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If You Must Have a Confident and Have No Mother. Hunt Uo Some One Who Is Deaf and Dumb
Their Married Life
Helen Is an Unwilling Witness to the "Horsing"
of a Princeton Freshman.
MABEL HERBERT URNER
ANT one?" asked Warren.;
as a boy came through the
train shouting, "Show your
colors! Here's your Harvard-Prince
"Oh no, I'd feel so foolish carrying
one of those," protested Helen.
"Can't go to a football game with- !
fut showing some enthuslam." and |
Mr. Stevens, who was in the seat
ahead of them, bought some small I
Princeton tigers and a couple of yel- j
Reluctantly Helen followed Mrs.
Stevens' example and pinnad one of I
the tigers on her coat. Almost every |
one in the car was wearing them,
yet the glaring emblem, in which
Helen felt she had no part made her
feel conspicious and self conscious.
"They run these special trains
pretty fast," Mr. Stevens glanced at
his watch. "We'll have time to see
Bob's room before the game."
Helen had never seen either a foot
ball bame or a college boy's room,
and now the day held for her both
Mr. Stevens, whose nephew was a
Junior at Princeton, had insisted that
they all go down for the game, and
had secured tickets on the Princeton
The conductor now came through
shouting "Princeton." and there was j
a general preparatory stir of getting f
Into wraps. Even before the train
slowed up every one was standing im
patiently in the aisle.
Outside on the platform was a great
crowd of students in their slouch hats
and yellow oil raincoats.
"Oh, we'll never see Bob in all that
crowd." complained Mrs. Stevens as
they pushed their way out.
808 SEES THEM
But "Bob," a tall, athletic youth,
had seen them step from the platform,
for already he was elbowing his way
was a moment of cordial
greeting, and Helen winced from the
hearty hand shakes which dug her j
rings into her fingers as she was in- j
trodmed to Mr. Stevens' nephew and
his roommate. George Stoddard.
In spite of the threatening rain ;
everybody had turned out for the big j
game. The streets were crowded with j
mud spattered touring cars. Harvard j
and Princeton colors fluttered every- j
where and a festive holiday atmos
phere was in the air. 1
As they made their way up to the
college grounds the boys entertained |
them with enthusiastic accounts of the
players, the crowd and the all absorb
ing question of a dry field.
"It's in fine shape now—we've got
it covered with straw. If only the rain
Under the impressive Blair arch. [
they strolled up the winding graveled j
path across the campus to one of the
gray stone dormitories.
As they entered the hall Bob ran
ahead with an apologetic:
"If you'll wait here Just a moment,
I'll make sure the place Is present
able," and he darted up three steps
at a time.
The stairs were uncarpeted and
tracked with mud, but the room they
entered was most cheerful and com
While the others went flrst to the
window to admire the view of the
campus. Helen took in every detail of
the furnishings. She felt Instinct
ively that it was a typical college
The mission furniture, which she
had always disliked, seemed appropri
ate here. There was a large center
table strewn with books and maga
zines, several strong leather seated
chairs, and a big comfortable couch
piled with pillows.
The walls, papered In plain dark
red, were covered with college pen
nants, photograph and sketches. In
one corner stood a banjo, a couple of
tennis rackets, some golf sticks and
a pair of dumbbells.
"What HAVE you done to your
lights?" demanded Mrs. Stevens,
glancing at the chandelier whose four
lights, t\ith their funnel-shaped green !
shades had been turned upward to
the ceiling. ?
Everybody laughed at the comical,
almost dissipated air the Inverted '
shades gave to the said chandelier.
"We turned them up the other |
night when we had a party. Tou j
Women and Children
Glove and Merchandise
i See Regular Ad on Page 3
The Calls Magazine and Fiction Page
see." pressing the button. "It softens
the light—doesn't give such a glare."
"Ingenious idea," commented War
ren, who was glancing over a text
book on metaphj'sics.
"Would you like to see the bed
room?" opening the door to one of the
two adjoining rooms. *
"That's his room," admitted Stod
dard. "Mine's always so. upset that
I never show lt."
The bedroom was even more strik
ingly masculine than the study. It
was rather bare, and every article
was strictly utilitarian. The two
things that impressed Helen most
were the astonishing number of ties
tbat hung by the chiffonier, and long
array of shoes under the bed.
"That the girl. Bob?" demanded Mr.
Stevens nodding toward a picture of a
pretty girl which stood on the chiffo
"How many of the sofa pillows did
she make?" laughed Mrs. Stevens.
"Only one. She's at W r ellesley, and
don't go in for fancy work."
To be as young and pretty as that,
to be in Wellesley, and to have this
big Princeton boy in love with her!
Helen looked at the picture wth a
pang of somethng like envy. She
felt suddenly quite old and mature.
"You furnish your own rooms here?"
asked Warren, as they now went back
into the study.
"Oh. yes, but we buy most of the
stuff from the fellows whore leaving.
W*e do all the papering and painting,
"Why I'd think the college would do
that." exclaimed Mrs. Stevens.
"Then if you want to change yonr
rooms—you're out the paper?"
"No, we sell it to the nexte tenant.
Last year I had a single room—a
freshman's got it now—l sold him the
"But suppose he hadn't wanted to
"Oh, that's part of the ethics. If
it's in good condition they're supposed
to pay something on it. Cost me
fifteen dollars to have lt papered,
and I made him pay six fifty.
But he's such a timid youngster that
if I'd asked the whole fifteen he'd
have paid it."
"Yes, and you're such an old softy."
broke in his roommate, "that you
threw in tbat rug to ease your eon-.,
Bob blushed at this reference to his
There was a sudden clatter of
heavy feet through the bare hall and
both boys darted out. A sound of a
scuffle, then they reappeared. Bob
dragging by the collar a youngster of
The boy's crimson face proclaimed
the luckless freshman. With judicial
gravity the two juniors set about
"Now do a wheelbarrow for the
ladles, Willie." '
With his face now a brick Bed, the
unhappy freshman got down on his
knees, while with unperturbed so
lemnity they took him by his feet and
walked him around the room on his
"Now stand on your head"'
The others were convulsed with
laughter, but Helen was filled with
indignant pity as the boy made an
earnest, though futile and ungraceful
effort to accomplish this feat.
"That'll do. Now tell a story!"
To the flushed disheveled freshman,
the telling of a story was even greater
torture than the physical stunts.
With his eyes riveted on the floor, lie
began a hurried mumbling.
"No —no. speak up! We want to
hear your story."
When the boy had Anally stammered
it out he was ordered to get down and
dig for the point." Once again he
got down on the floor and groped
Helen was almost as unhappy as
the boy. Surely they ought to let him
go now! But his tormentors were
"Come over here now and propose
to Mrs. Stevens," ordered Bob. "This
is Mrs. Stevens on the couch."
Plainly he had been forced to 'do
this before, for the next moment the
wretched boy was on his knees be
fore Mrs. Stevens, blurting out some
thing about "Fair lady, do me the
honor to be my wife."
Then without even a glance toward
the "fair lady," he dashed across the
room, stumbling over a chair, out
into the hall and down the steps with
an alarming clatter.
"Oh, that poor boy! How could pot
—how COULD you?" gasped Mrs. Ste
vens, when she could get her breath.
"Good for him. That's an uppish
chap. Somebody saw him smoking a
pipe on the campus last week."
"Is that against the rules, for fresh
"It's after two now," announced
Warren. "We'd better be getting to
As they filed down the stairs they
could hear a distant cheering. The
graveled walks were crowded with
people hurrying across the campus to
the game. They quickened their pace
as the cheers grew louder.
Through the trees Helen caught
sight of the grand stand black with
people. Already she was beginning to
feel something of the college spirit, of
the excitement, the tense anticipation,
the enthusiasm with which the very
air seemed charged.
Another mighty shout from the
grand stand, and with quickened pulse
and breathless expectancy, Helen was
swept on to the big football game of
Love and Death
MAYBE it was the December wind that whistled outside and the
dreary skipping of dry brown leaves that made the Cynic talk
like this. But so he did—and this is what he said —pushing
back his hair, that is growing as gray as the winter time soon will
be: "I passed a couple of blissful and blind lovers, down the street,
under the cedars. She was in furs and as rosy a maid as any man
might dream of. He was an upright chap. In a
with clean, dark face, still washed with its summer tan, topped by a
sojjt green hat. And they never looked at the ground for bumps; and
they never looked to right or left; and they never looked at the sky
—they just walked along like sleepwalkers feeling their way, look
ing into one another's faces. Their eyes and their lips were happy—
they seemed to have a lot of things to smile and blush over. I
stopped short and watched them. They never SAW me. And—and I
discovered an unconscious envious note in the Cynic's grumbling
voice, and they seemed to be having an awfully good time. And lt
all made me think. Did you ever think how Love plays' on the edge
of a precipice? Flowers and grass bluer and greener than any In
another place grow right up to the edge. Dressed In their best—
Daysey Mayme and Her Folks
MRS. LYSANDER JOHN APPLE
TON put down her newspaper
with a look of deep concern.
As a member of the Sisterhood of
Struggling Women she felt that some
incentive to struggle had been left
o*t of her life.
The account of the meeting of the
Sisterhood of Struggling Women told
much of the brutality of man. Dele
gate after delegate bore witness to
the habits of husbands of demanding
that their wives account for every
cent they spent. Mrs. Lysander John
had never been held to account, and,
overwhelmed with the passion for
martyrdom which is now engulfing
her sex. she felt that she had been
"He hasn't asked it," she thought,
"but I know that he Is wondering
what I did with the $10 he gave me
yesterday, I will put myself within
the pale of martyrdom and suffer with<
my sisters by giving him a detailed
account hereafter of every cent I
spend. When it comes to suffering
for the Cause. I will never have it
said of me that I shirked my share."
That evening, when Lysander John
had retired behind his newspaper and
was settling to his own satisfaction
the Mexican problem, his wife began:
"You gave me $10 yesterday."
Lysander John looked over his pa
per, nodded, and went back tOiHuerta.
Hearing his wife's voice again, he
absent mindedly began to fumble in
the pocket where he kept his cash.
' 1 am prepared," he heard his w.lfe
say, "to account for every cent I have
spent of it."
Lysander John was deciding that If
he were Wilson he would let the Mex
icans fight it out, and was Interrupted
in the soothing thoughts'of how Ly
sander John Appleton, president of the
United States, had, by his masterly
brain, restored peace to our warring
neighbor by the following monologue:
"Ice man, 10 cents; 35 cents for
milk; $1.75 for having your suit
pressed; 15 cents, starch; 6 cents,
bluing; 33 cents, meat; 2 cents, soup
bone; 11 cents, silk twist; 11 cents,
editto; H cents, ditto; 5 cents, tape; 4
cents, buttons; 16 cents, whalebone;
16 cents, ditto; 10 cent, thread; 10
cents, ditto; 10 cents, ditto; 10 cents,
ditto; 12 cents, hooks and eyes; 12
cents, ditto; 12 cents, ditto; 12 cents,
ditto; 12 cents, dit "
But she read no more, for Lysander
John, reaching across the table, tore \
Copyright. 1913. International News Service
she In her dancing chiffon, he in his evening clothes—they blow
bubbles into thin air—myriads of rainbow bubbles called DREAMS.
The sun falls on them and their bubbles, gleaming on her hair, light
ing his eyes, striking faerie colors that never were real on sea or
land from the bubbles that she blows for him from a golden bowl—
so they amuse themselves like a pair of children on the loveliest
spot in the loveliest fashion—but on the EDGE. For Death looms
smiling and patient, reluctant to smash their bubbles and stop their
play—but waiting. Have you ever thought of that—that Love plays
on the edge of things—and Death stands over them every hour?"
I smiled at the Cynic. "Of course I have," quoth I. "Of course
I have—but who cares? Death looms smiling for YOU, too—lonely
man who forswears Love for fear of losing it. I would rather—when
I slipped off the edge—have had the grass and the flowers and the
sunshine—the bubbles of tender color called dreams—the space of
perfect youth and idle, blind play—than not, my friend. Of course,
I've thought of that —but neither I nor the rosy girl in tho furs, the
man In the Mackinaw, worry about that."
"You're wrong," grumbled the Cynic. But he didn't tell how.
FRANCES L. GARSIDE
| the list from her hand and stamped
lt on the floor.
"For heaven's sake," he cried, "why
tell me all that? What do I car* how
you spend it, just so you let me alone?
Here is another $10. For the sake of
Mike go and spend all of it on dittoes
if you like, but keep still about lt!"
"If the men," he grumbled to him
self a little later when alone in hfs
den, "had to listen to the account of
how their wives spend every penny,
there wouldn't be Insane asylums to
But somehow Mrs. Lysander John
was not satisfied. Those who long to
suffer martyrdom seldom are.
A meeting Just taken place at
Bucharest of a congress of unappre
ciated inventors. A certain number of
mechanical geniuses, lacking the funds
to carry out their Ideas, met to discuss
the means of remedying this want.
The members of the congress included
a chemist who knows how to produce
diamonds, a shoemaker who can man
ufacture boots in which to walk com
fortably on the surface of the deepest
waters and a sign painter who has
discovered a color which renders areo
planes invisible at a distance of 80
meters from the ground.
The following story Is actually true.
A young Icelander, going across the
desert from Reykjavik, met a man
riding a pony. Such meetings are
rare, indeed, in those parts, and, like
ships at sea, the two hailed and spoke.
And this was the manner and sub
stance of their converastion:
"What Is your name?" v
"Where are you going?"
"To prison for stealing a sheep."
"No one taking you?"
"No; the sheriff was busy, so he
gave me my papers"—the warrant for
arrest —"and sent me off to prison
The young men exchanged snuff
and a kiss, and then parted.
A week later the young Icelander
was returning to Reykjavik, and near
the same spot he met the same man.
"What!" he cried, "Stefan Thor
stein? Why, you said you were go
ing to prison."
"So I was, and I went. But they
would not let me in."
"Because I had lost my papers, and
the sheriff said he would not take me
in without my warrant."
"So, they won't have youln prison "'
"And you are going home again?"
And they went their ways.
The Family Cupboard
A Dramatic Story of High Society Jjfe in New York
Adapted from Owen Davis' Broadway Success.
You Can Begin This Great Story Today
by Reading This First
Charles Nelson, a wealthy New |
Yorker, on coming home on a certain j
afternoon, discovers his son. Ken- i
neth, drunk, and in the scene that j
follows, Kenneth accuses his father of j
Nelson admits the truth of the charge.
His wife, a society leader, hear 3 the
discussion, and it develops that the
estrangement in the family has come
through the woman's indifference to
her husband. Their daughter. Alice,
sides with the father, and Kenneth
takes his mother's part. Mrs. Hard
ing, a mutual friend, tries to patch
the trouble, and contrives that the
Nelsons shall meet at the Alpine
apartments, where Nelson has gone
from his home. In the lobby of this
apartment house Mrs. Nelson acci
dentally meets Kitty May Claire, the
girl who had won her husband's af
fection. After his wife leaves. Nelson
has a talk with the girl. He tells her
they must "quit." The girl declares
she will have revenge. She takes it
Now Read On
(NOVELIZED BY l
(From Owen Davia' play now being presented I
at the Playhoua* Ot William A. Brady.—
Copyrighted. JSI3. by International Newa !
Continued from Yesterday
"That's true. Ken. He never doesJ
forgive. He quit me cold—when —
when—" Kitty almost added truth- j
fully "when your mother found out." |
But she recollected her pose of in- i
jured innocence in time and finished)
her sentence—"when he was tired of |
She went on: "He hates me now —
you struck him before me. and for
me. Oh, Ken, what will become of
me? My friends will cast me off —
your family lias cast you off!"
The tears started again—her face
puckered like a child's—and then be
fore a red nose or swollen eyelids
spoiled her effect of pathos Kitty
buried her face in Ken's handkerchief
and the fat sofa cushion!
Til take care of you. I'll go look
for work—and mother has not cast
me off yef!"
.The boy tried to meet his situation
—but he could not face Potter, who
was just letting in Adolf's assistant
with tne luncheon that had been or
dered so gayly for "36" less than two
Enthroaned behind the "Filet of
sole," Kitty eyed Dick jauntily when
he arrived in time for the "big eats"
a few minutes after Kenneth Nelson
had started off to try to earn the
wherewithal to pay for that luncheon.
"Come on in, Dickie, boy—l'm
pretty, hungry, but I guess there's
eats enough for two if one of 'em |
goes it mild. The kid's out lookin'
for a little job—boy's size."
THE OLD FRIEND
"An' when the kid's out tryin' to
get some one's goat, we frolic—Eh.
Kitty?—frolic like lambs. Say, I
guess that would buy me a laugh in :
the big small time. Yes? Yes?"
"Ye-Yu8!" said Kitty, amiably. "You I
couldn't buy be a small taxi ridel
away from the cab driving style of |
one James—could you. Dick?"
"I could buy a longer ride than
that. Kitty, if I was to be a fellow
''Come on then." said Kitty. And
she started a new chapter in her
But for Ken it was the same old
chapter—with the pages still written!
In a language he could scarcely un
derstand—witli the print growing j
dull and old. A long, weary week i
passed. Work seemed to elude him. '
His letters were unanswered—even
his mother seemed to have forgotten
After a week lack of funds forced
him to drive Potter away—much
against that "good and faithful serv
"Oh, I don't need a chaperon—now
—Potter, and I can't afford to keep
one." he cried impatiently. "Work
without wages is all right—but work
without food desn't amount to much.
Well, I've all the mouth to fill in can
Habit, necessity—and the need of
some love—be It false or true, bound
him to Kitty—and Kitty seemed to
consider Dick and Jim a part of her
"Couldn't you dismiss some one else
instead, Mr. Kenneth? For instance.!
Mr, Le—" began Potter, but finished j
with art abrupt goodby as Mr. Le Roy
—smiling, complacent, well fed—ap
peared in the door for his morning
"Not going away to leave us. Pot
ter? And whither away. Kenneth
boy?" he remarked, cheerily, arrang
ing his hat and stick on the piano and
preparing to enjoy a little of his own
"I'm dismissing Potter—and going
to look for more work. I'll leave you
the room. Dick—l've nothing else to
leave," said the boy, with a bitter at
tempt at jauntiness.
"Oh, going to do more looking—for
work, you mean.- Well, s'long—l'll
keep the piano entertained while
Dick struck a chord. He picked out
a little running trill, and then he ad
dressed the place where Kenneth had
stood a moment before.
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If in failing health write Dr. R. V. Pierces
faculty at Invalids' Hotel, Buffalo, New York. 1
by having the son. Kenneth, fall in
love with her. He moves to an apart
ment house in which she has lodgings.
There settle upon the boy as leeches.
'Jim. Kitty's fathes, whom Kenneth
to be only her chauffeur, and
Dick le Roy, Kitty's former dancing
partner in vaudeville. When Ken
neth proposes marriage Kitty frankly
tells him of her experience with a
man she does not name. Kenneth
insists that she tell who it was. This
the girl refuses to do. His inquisi
tion is stopped by the arrival of his
sister Alice and her fiance, Tom
Harding. In the middle of a scene
with that group Charles Nelson ap
pears. Then Kenneth learns from
Kitty that his father was the man
who had made her what she is. Ken
neth. In blind passion, strikes his
father in the face. The blow is for
given by the father. Kitty May had
; witnessed the attack.
"You're certainly one funny little
Then, with sundry thumps and ar
peggios and cadenzas, he began prac
ticing his favorite. "Meet Me In Spoon
Time, Dearie." His hands thumped out
resounding chords, hts feet posctured
and cavorted in dance steps and over
and over again he importuned "Dearie."
At last the door opened a crack —
widened a bit to yimit Jim. who had
assured himself fnat Dick was hold
ing the fort alone.
Jim stood In the doorway, voicing a
silent protest. At last he came in.
sat down and began filling his old
clay pipe from a jar of tobacco he
found on the littered table. He shook
his head sadly the while —clay pipes,
indeed! This graft was about played
out. Tie wondered what Kitty meant
by sticking. Finally lie began glanc
ing In protest over his shoulder at
the piano player.
"Cut it, can't yer?" lie asked.
"What?" asked Dick, without stop
"That's enough to drive a man
"There's lots of different ways tr»
sing a song," said Dick, complacently
trying another method of attack.
"There's lots of differenet way* to
sing it rotten—and you've tried them
all." said Jim with something like a
snarl. It was poor hunting- on Ulla
range—no game in sight and fond
scarce, so after the way of beasts of
prey in time of famine, these men had
begun to'quarrel among themselves.
Dick sneered openly.
"I can get a price for it! That's
what's the matter. I'm the only one
around this dump with nut enough to
earn a dollar."
Jim whined a bit. It would not do
to estrange Dick at the particular
moment when affairs were In such
bad shape. If the hreak came, there
was no telling which way the cat
would jump—the "cat" being. In this
case, suitably enough, Kitty—and Jim
thought it the better part of valor to
calm Mr. Le Roy a bit.'
"The boy Is payin' our rent, ain't
he, and charging up our breakfasts'.
That's a start on the day's occupation,
ain't it? Now if only kebs was still
"This is all right if you like it."
broke in Dick with no desire to pla
cate anybody. "I've had enough. So
I'll practice my song."
The door opened unceremoniously
and Kitty walked in. She still wore
the little lavender waist that had
seemed so dainty a week ago. Now,
both It and her smart little hat were
crumpled and tawdry looking. A sort
of dejection seemed to hang about
Kitty. She was no longer the merry
little miss who dared to be her own
"small time" self with Dick—and the
dainty lady airs she had assumed for
Ken were worn through their veneer.
"Kitty, my jewel, you wear the ex
pression of a silver plainted shine,"
said Dick airily.
"You slept late, my dear." added
Jim with a near paternal air.
"W r hat is there to do?" asked Kitty
She made a little grimace at the
cloud of tobacco smoke—ln short Mis*
Kitty May turned up her nose and
"Gee! What a rotten pipe."
"His ' igars is all gone." explained
Dick had stopped playing and sat
watching the pair. He shrugged his
shoulders and swung round on the
stool —another chord—a run—and. he
began to sing. "Meet Me in Spoon
Kitty threw up her arms and. rush
ing impatiently to the uttermost cor
ner of the room, flung herself Into
a seedy old chair.
"Shut up, Dick Le Roy—will you?
You'll drive me crazy with that
Dick rose angrily.
"It ain't the song—that's sure fire!
It's this point! Kitty—"
< ontlnued on Monday
One of the few millionaires pos
sessed by Spain is working as an or
dinary workman in a soap factory in
Madrid, who wishes personally to
learn the difference between the Ger
man and French modes of making
It is stated that more steel and iron
are used annually In the manufacture
of typewriters and pens than In the
manufacture of arms and ordnance.