Atlanta Georgian. [volume], May 25, 1914, Extra, Image 4

About Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939

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o The Millennium Will Not Be a Complete Success Unless Lost Umbrellas Find Their Way Home Like Cats o
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- +THE GEORGIANS MAGAZINE PAGE
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HEN your gran'mother and mine were young persons, with
W hair in bobbing curls, ankles in pantalettes, and billows of
skirts like whipped cream, a canter in the saddle with plumes
and eweeping skirts weighted with bullets at the hem was a bit of fine
exercise, I'm tellin’ you. And a swaying little stroll in the park was
one other way of keeping the blood In her cheeks and health ail over
and about her, But NOW! A stroll ig bread-and-milk and a canter is
a slow business. Is it any wonder the girl who steps so gaily through
nineteen-fourteen with her slim hips and boy-carriage is rather coltish
because of the life in her?
The Thrilling Story of a Pretty Girl's Fight |
E Against Tremendous Odds for the $
= A T o Man She Loved. - §
Hased on Jacquin Lait's Broadway
sucvess of the same name now ruaa
ning at the Maxine Elliott Theater,
Copyright, 1014, by B. W. Denison and
Jacguin Lalt, Sole serial rights in
the United States owned by Interna
tional News Service,
By WEBSTER DENISON.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“This I 8 a fine state of affairs!” he
exclaimed. ““That Parls man is asleep
or full of absinthe, Itke all those
frog-eaters. By jove, this has got
to stop! Crane! Crane!” he called,
and rushed to the hall
Words of Comfort.
In the moment of Scotts pseudo
outburst Gertrude sat watching him
with an agonized look of helplessness
and despair. Her fate was digtorted
by her efforts to maintain a decep
tion as adequate as Scott’'s. But as
he rushed out she pressed her hand
kerchief to her face and dropped her
head to her desk, giving vent to
pent-up tears. She felt agaln the
pressure of Arms, but it was a gentle,
tender embrace from which she dld
not shrink.
“Don’t ery, girlie,” Jack pleaded.
“Has the governor been scolding yvou
s 0 very bad? 1 know he i{s in a rot
a 0
HOUSEWIVES!
P ,‘
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coffee will come to an |
end the day youbegin |
to serve ‘
MAXWELL
HOUSE
BLEND |
,l Costs a little more than |
| some—worth more than ’
any. |
Have it on your table. l
Cheelk-Neal Coffee Co., ‘
| Nashville Jacksouville Houston
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ten humor to-day. He was lr‘oldingl
you when I came In, wasn't he?"
She made no answer, but trembling
from her sobs she shook her head iuw
dissent. 1
“Then what are you crylng about?”
“Nothing,” ehe murmured.
‘“There must be something.”
For the first time she faced him
through her tears:
“Yes, there Is—something—l'm
afraid.”
“Why can't you tell me about f{t,
then? Are you afrald of losing your
position?”
“No; not afraid of losing it—afraid
of having to leave it. But don't ask
me, please! Oh, I just can't give it
up, my mother is 8o happy over it
we are all so happy-~———" She raised
her hands in a gesture of despalir. "1
just can’t--1 can't——""
“They why don't you tell me? What
is It, Gertrude? I can help you'"
“No, you can't. Nebody can help
me." ;
“They can. 1 can” His gentle
tone now was a determined one. 1
want yon to tell me what you're cry
ing for.” He took her hand and
pressed it to his lips.
“Don’t, Jack,” she murmured, “not
now; I can't., Maybe I'll tell you hye
and bye. You'd better leave me now,
I'm all right.”
They heard Scott's voice in the cor
ridor raised In a strident pitch of
command to C(‘rane. @Gertrude pulled
away, “Quick,” she whispered. “Please
go! I'l see vou to-night.”
Scott banged the door after his de-.
parting heir. With shrewd appre
clation of her feelings, he wanf to his
desk and offered no immediate
apology.
An Apology.
“That boy is worse than the rest
of them,” he commented, finally. “I
guess I'll have to get him a private
office.”
He took a ball of crumpled paper
from his pocket and smoothed it out
on his desk. A 8 he contemplated it
he smiled in a guilty, shamefaced
way like a child who in momentary
temper has trampled on a favorite
toy. It paved the way for peace
making. He smotohed the gheet
agaln, folded it and unfolded it, and
got up, holding it toward her.
“I'm sorry, little secretary, espe
clally for this, It was such a neat
little job it seems almost a sacrilege
to have ruined it." He came over to
Yer, still holding out the letter.
“I.et me offer you my apologles,
Gertrude. I guess you'll have tg do it
over, and you can do the others now.
I'm going down to the club for
luncheon to-day, and may not be
back till rather late, but 1 wigh you
would wait for me.”
The Wolf's Fangs.
OR nearly an hour Gertrude sat
with her notes - untouched.
Scott's forcible demand for
She plays polo, along with the rest of the defenders of the cup—
driving the little white ‘‘pellet” along the green hotel carpet turf—
ASTRIDE of her horsa, as she sghould be-—sticking to her slippery
little eggshell saddle as close as the hair on her mount’s satin back—
bitting hard-—her tongue between her teeth like a small boy—hair
tight to her head, fuss and feathers shaved down to nothing! She
plays the grand old game that the boys have just flnished, gracefully
and gemfi)usly showing off to the aliens across the many waters (over
in Jersey, yon know, there's a girl-team that is surely UP in the game
and looks!),
privacy seemed to have borne fruit.
From the lack of it there was now a
surfeit of it. To the tortuved gir] it
seemed that she was utterly alcne—
alone 4nd trapped In the habitat of
the wolf.
There was a way of escape, but it
led past the gravestone of burled
liopes and dreams. 'Three times she
started to follow it, but each time as
she stepped toward the rack for her
hat and coat to flee this place of ter
rors the pilcture of a lowly tenement
home with the welcoming faces of her
mother and her little brothers flashed
before her. It was a picture she had
seen a hundred times, and it was col
ored now by brighter tints. If she
erased It she erased forever the
image of a new-born comforter,
If Jack had come to her then, she
would haye told him all, but no one
came, an(fi she trampled down her
childish pride and waved back her
fears in new resolve. She started to
work on her letters, and her diligent
application to them relieved her for
the moment. She was finishing the
last when Scott returned. She
switched the final sheet from the ma
chine and then advanced to her em
ployer's desk with the letters in her
hand.
“Is this all, Mr. Scott?”
“No, it ien't," he answered, in busi
nesalike tone, “I'm awfully sorry,
little girl, but I've got to ask you to
gtay a while this evening. I've run
across two or three things in my ab
fsence that have to have Immediate
attention. It won't take you so very
long-—about an hour, 1 should think,
Has anvone been in?"
“No, sir. No one.”
“That’s just the way; plenty of
privacy when I'm not here.” His bit
of irony met instant justification, for
there came a knoc! and Crane's skuil
capped head bobbed in.
“Anything more for me, sir?’ he
asked.
“No, there isn't., I've got some work
to do and I don’t want to be bothered.
Lock un your office and the vaults
and go home.”
The Letter.
“Yes, sir"”
The millicnaire took out his mo
rocco-covered note book and ran
through the pages.
“Oh, yes,” he said presently, “there
is something I want to ask you
about, Miss Meyer. Miss Wiggins
wrote a letter for Mr. Stuart the oth
er day. Do you remember it?"
“I don't know——. Yes, you mean
when you-—sent me out?”
“Exactly. I ran across Stuart at
the club to-day and he tells me that
this letter—of rather a personal mat
ter—was duplicated. He saw that by
an examination of the original. He
hadn’t noticed it at the time. Do you
know what,was done with that dupli
cate copy?”
“Why, I think—it's in the desk-—
I'm not sure. I'll look.” Bhe searched
through one of the drawers and
brought forth a yellow carbon copy
of the letter,
“Yes; that's it,” said Scott, hastily,
and, realizing that she had probably
read it, added: “That's Miss Wilson,
the young woman that was run down
by my automobile.”
“Yes? Didn't you have a stenogra
pher by that name?” ghe queried with
unusual temerity.
“Why-—~er—possibly,” rising and
coming toward her: “some similar
name. I can't remember. Don't think
I ever paid much attention to my em
ployees—until you came."”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
‘JH c THE DIAMOND BRAND,
g Ladics! Ask your by lat for
§ Chi.chea-ter's l"-.ou!flr-ud
Pills in Ked and Gold metallic
i !i:-\:(. -\u.cd‘vilh nllu'e ;(flw«m.
o . Ba
° Druxeist. Atk for OLoIR T ERS
DIA““\'D BRAND PILLA, for 86
o years known as Best, Safest, Always Rellable
| N 7 SOLD BY DRUGGISTS EVERYWHERS
“ ® Their Endless Chain—‘.:(;
€6 JTHER, what makes you
M love Mrs. Olcott so much?”
The very small boy who
asked the question was standing in
the alsle of a crowded car in a sub
urban train, leaning against his
mother's knees.
“Hear that, will you?” Mrs. Ringle
murmured to her husband. “Why do
I love Mrs. Olcott 80 much?” Then
she met the innocent gaze upturned
to hers. “What makes you think I
do, Richard?”
“'Cause vou always give her things,
You wouldn’t give her things if you
didn't love her, would you, mother?”
“But, son, she gives me things,
don't you sea?”
“Yes, I know. Is that why you love
her so much?”
“W-well, maybe that's why I glve
her things.”
“Oh! She glves vou things 'cause
she loves you o much an’ you give
Ler things 'cause she gives things to
you.”
“I didn’t say that, dear.”
“But she does love you a lot, don't
she?”
“Why?”
“'Cause she glves you so many
things. People don't give other peo
ple things all the time, 'less they love
‘em, do they, mother?”
A sound reeembling a swallowed
chuckle came from Ringle's vicinity.
A Nice Seat.
“There, dear,” said Mrs. Ringle,
hurriedly, “this lady is getting off and
you can be right up here on the seat
beside mother., On your knees—face
the window so vou can look out at the
lake. “Isn’t that fine?"
“Uh-hub. But, mother, when you
saw those little plants with flowers
on in the station you told father you
were thinking 'bout getting one for
Mrs. Olcott, you did—an’ father
sald——"
“Richard, you muet never repeat
what you hear father and mother
gay."
“Yes, 1 won’t——but, mother, why
doen’'t father love Mrs, tOlcott as
much as you do?”
“He does, of course, Now, look st
the lake.”
“1 aid look at it. But, mother, fa
ther never gave Mrs, Olcott things.”
“Well, Mrs, Olcott never gives him
things.”
“Why not, mother?”.
“That will do, Richard, You musn't
ask so manyv questions.” Mrs, Ringla
turned her back on the vouthful seek
er for knowledge, onlv to find herself
confronted by a teasing smile.
“Hard to answer?” asked Richard’s
daddy.
“Of course, you can't explain a sit
uation like that to a child: but, all
the same, it's just ag 1 was telling
vou,” she angfwered, with heightened
color. “it's a -erfect hold-up the way
that woman keeps sending me things.
If either of us cared the least Dbit
® Up-to-the-Minute Jokes ®
Indignant passenger (to railway
manager--Here, 1 say, I got a cinder
in my eye from one of your confound
ed engines, and it cost me §1 for a
gines, and it cost me a dollar for a
doctor to get it out and dress the eye.
Now, what do you propose to do in
the matter?
Rallway Magnate-—~Nothing, my
dear, sir—nothing. We have no use
for the cinder, and you are perfectly
welcome to it No doubt, strictly
apeaking, you did go off with our
property-—the cinder, of course, was
not yours—but we do not care to
make a fuss about such a small mat
ter, Pray do not give the incident a
moment's thought,
. - *
Two smart ladies entered a church
the other day, and were asked by the
verger if they would like to see the
old plate, which was noted for its
She dances--my gracious, hbow she dances! And nowadays the
dance is a pretty riot that fascinates and enthuses, puts every, muscle
a-ripple, makes feet, ankles and all the ceaselessly moving body a tire
less, beautifully working thing; shamelessly washes all the powder
off a girl's pretty face, sends her blood singing under the skin, and
makes of her just the same hippity-hop, limber-limbed child she was
when she was ten.
She boxes—oh, yes! (Over in France—behind your hand say this—
she fought a fast, furious battle, 'tll one of her “went out.”)
And to finish off her little round of exercise, she drives her father’s
about the other, it ywouldn’t be eo
bad.”
“How did it get started, anyway?"”
“l suppose [ started it, if it comes
to that. Away back in the beginning,
the day she was moving into that fiat,
before T'd even seen what she was
like, I sent Hilda across the hall with
some hot vegetable soup. Before
night, i{f you please, that woman
brought back the pitcher with four
fine oranges in it, and took pains to
tell me what a choice~variety they
were and how they had been sent her
from Florida, and how thes'd cost $1.50
a dozen if you bought them downtown.
And I could see perfectly well that it
was just a case of getting even with
et
“And then?"
“Well, T waen't going to accept her
expensive oranges and not do any
thing, especially when 1 dldn't take
the least bit of fancy to her. Of
course, she knew very well that vege
table soup didn't cost me anything.
So when papa sent us thoge lovely
fresh eggs and you couldn’t get any
thing like them for even 60 cents a
dozen in the market, I sent some over
right away. I forget what she did
next, but I know she did it with fire
in her eye, and so it's gone on and
on.” .
“And you're sure she doesn't keep it
up because she's fond of you?”
“Am 1?7 llt's nothing but a mean
fear that she’ll be indebted to me.”
“Then why not stop short?”
“And let her feel that I'm under
obligations to her? When I can’t bear
her!”
The Present.
Ringle lapsed into tnoughtful sfi
lence, which lasted until they were
entering their own apartment. Then
Richard bounded forward.
‘‘Mother, see!” he cried. “A flower
just like the one you war thinking
of getting for Mrs, Olcott!”
‘Did you ever!” Mrs, Ringle turned
to her husband in extreme annoyance.
“She's gone and bought one of those
hyacinths for me. There's her card.,”
Ringle examined {t. “And why do
vou think she did it this time, Polly,
when it wasn't her turn?”
“Oh, why? Just to get ahead of me,
some way, I know., She saw me mak
ing that marmalade yesterday and
she was afraid I'd glve her some.
Well, she was just right”"—vindictive
ly. “There are two glasses out there
now marked with her name. Il
send———"
“Hold on, Polly,” Ringle put in. “If
it's really such a nuisance, why not
leave off?"”
“Henry, vou're as hard to explain a
thing to as Richard himself. Now,
Richard, 1 want you to take these
glasses of marmalade over to Mrs.
Olcott's right away and tell her moth.
er thanks her so much for the pretty
plant.”
'unique design and great age. of
course, they said they would, and
‘anything else worth looking at. After
taking up a lot of the old man’'s time
and patience, he asked if they would
like to see the modern plate as well.
This, too, they were willlng to do.
So he handed them the offertory
plate, sayving:
“This is it, ladies, and it would look
‘better with some silver or gold on it."
;. = -
Little Tommy'at school was being
‘examined in geography.
“Now, Tommy,” said his teacher, *if
yvour left hand {8 west and your right
hand is east and in front of you is
north, what is behind you?”
Tommy wriggled about, and finally
answered:
“Well, the whole class can see it's
a patch 1 have on me trousers. You
don't need to point it out.,”
- Love of Mother &
HEN Daughter paints a marine
\;\/ view, it is so realistic to
Mother that when she looks
at it she feels the salt spray dashing
in her face.
Mother has other worries than the
baking and the price of putter. She
{8 worried leét some of the young men
who call on Son won’t fall in love
with Daughter, and that some of the
girls who call on Daughter may fall in
love with Son.
Between the children who are cross
half the time because thesx are hun
gry and Father, who is cross the other
The Standard for Baking Powders
the World Ovelsl is
an Absolutely Pure,
Cream of Tartar Baking Powder
REAM OF TARTAR is the crystallized
acid of grapes refined to absolute purity
and ground to a creamy flour. It is de- -
clared by physicians the most wholesome
of all fruit acids, and has been proved by long and
universal experience the most efficient and satis
- factory for baking purposes.
Highly refined products of the grape, properly
combined with bicarbonate of soga and a Yittle
corn starch to absorb atmospheric moisture, are the
sole ingredients of the ideal, high-class, standard
baking powder.
. Many acids have been tried during the last hun
dred years to find a substitute for the grape cream
of tartar which would cost less. In recent years
alum, which makes a baking powder at a cost of
two cents a pound, has been used because of its
trifling cost. Alum, however, has been disapproved
by scientific chemists and physicians and is not em
ploved by manufacturers of high-class powders.
Cream of tartar powders being healthful them
sclves, add to the healthfulness of the food.
motor car with a loose, quick hand, steady nerves, and a dash of Tets
laff! And, moreover, when it pulls up with a kind of sinister sound
like a breadcrumb in its feed pipe, and CEASES—she can get out and
get under and coax it back into a steady, sweet hum again. She can
adjust a distributer, take the cork out of the carburetor and examins
its works—regulate the um-ha-ha as thoroughly as the next fellow.
Is it any wonder she's & slim, boylike oreature? But don't voy
think—don’t you really think she’s a mighty sweet, feminine, dainty,
womanly young person, after all? Just a bundle of GIRL, with it ai?
Me?—ll do!—NFELL BRINKLEY.
half because he ate too much, Mother
has a hard time of {t,
When Father refuses to let the
children draw pictures with a pin on
the piano legs, Mother sighs and says:
“Men have so little patience with
children they don't deserve to be
fathers.”
This conversation is heard often:
Mother sayve, “Mary, get a pitcher of
water,” Mary says, ‘‘Make Tom do
it.” *“Oh, well,” says Mother, ‘T will
do it myself.”
A very tired woman realized that
e e T SRS NN
By FRANCES L, GARSIDE
she was about to die. The spring
sewing had not been touched: thers
was the house to clean, the children’s
clothes were in need of repair, and s
many other duties demanded her at
tention that she felt it would be noth
ing less than shiftlessness to die and
leave -it all undone. But the doctor
told her she was going; there was no
hope for it, and asked if she had a
last word to say. “Tell them,” she
sald, thinking of the spring house
cleaning, the sewing, the cooking and
the mending, “to put on my tombh
stone these words: ‘Mother Has Gone
on Her First Vacation.'”