The Richmond Virginian., March 22, 1910, CITY EDITION, Page 8, Image 8

About The Richmond Virginian. (Richmond, Va.) 1910-1920

Image provided by: Library of Virginia; Richmond, VA

                
IN PASSING OF JENNY WREN
Rt M %RTH.% fcmtOCH.WlUUIll.
(Cop?right, 1910, by Associated Lit
erary Free*.)
Jenny Wrtn'i chutU-r filled, week
ly, a column next the "Want” adver
AlaamonOa in t Ki> (/it*n lo ‘‘('llirliifl ''
m
ttoermnt* tn the Midvale "Clarion
It waa lor the most part mildly »mia
|nic, though now and then there came
a spice of malice. Naturally there
tra* much curiosity among “Clarion"
. traders as to the real name of Jenny
Wre*t. But Edit.*/ Blake only smiled
at questions outright. and shook his
head at the wily ones who tried to
trap him into tolling.
He was a good fellow. Editor Blake,
(ft# and thin, faintly stooped, and be
atnnlng t-> (prize ■ lie kept away
mm women, not through shyness,
hut because they bored him At least
the general mass of them did. There
■were exceptions.
'Because Beatrix Henry was the
youngest aivl Car the prettiest of
these exceptions, moreover, saucily
' bright, and Just the least hit spoiled,
more than half of Midvale said she
.WM Jenny Wren, and governed itself
•ccordlngly. Beatrix knew the fact—
..both as cause and effect. She was
staked everywhere. to everything,
through fear of. what Jenny Wren
would saj. or the gr« ater fear that
•he would any nothtng.
* It was puzxling. however, that Jen
ny often passed over with a lino occa
sions at which Beatrix had been al
most the bright, particular star; also
■.that functions from -wtib-h she
WITS
were either
or deftly rtdt
conaplouously absent
praised extravagantly
eat**!.
Still, with every beau In town more
or less among her satellites. Beatrix
was tn the way ot knowing about al
most everything Yet. lor the would
be humorists who addressed her In
public as Jenny Wren, she had a fine
scorn that In itself predicated Inno
cence. Moreover, was not Lily tireer
as bright, as popular and very much
more given to sharp speeches than
she?
LUy. also, disclaimed Jenny Wren
gfclp, hut. somehow, she did 11 les*
convincingly She. too, was among
Blake's exceptions—he dropifsd In to
see her for half hours in the late af
ternoons when his day’s work was
done. And all. this gave color ol
reason to the public belief The
public was firmly convinced It wat
one of the two girls—mainly for tht
reason that it could, according to Its
mind, lie nobody else.
Beatrix anil Lily did not lote eact
other There were those who -tab.
-Editor Blake, despite his grizzling*
was the cause of the war Jiowevsi
that may have been, they were, it
public, so studiously civil to each othti
that It was impossible to misundcr
Stand how the land lay. Jenny
Wren never mentioned either of th<
young women This made a puzzlint
Situation
-JtfWraio never would have believed
It—but it was as much a puzzle b
Beatrix and Lily hh to anybody else
Next to Jenny Wren's Identity, Mid
vale puzzled itself most as to wha1
Editor Blake did wilh his money
He made the "t’larlon" pay its war—
it never did more—but aside frorr
that he had a tolerable competence
Jn spit, of this he lived very simply—
•addle horses were his sole extrava
gance. But his income went out o.
the bank as steadily as it came lnl<
it He neither * petit nor gave It awat
to Midvale's knowledge; he could tot
waste it in riot since he stuck by hti
work y.-ar in and year out. Nor hn<
he any d. in ndents—at least an}
nlng. -ax he did. Iron
-» rich famllj lie gave me-agerly t>
g, town ehariti. s. s.. meagerly indeet
that boards of lady managers wen
y.' hk- most hostile critics.
'Mrs. Light, head of the Improve
S__jB»sml—guild, said outright, in face o
a guild meeting, that he was dlstlnt t
Jy n menace' She Intimated by thl
1. that hie eourage of liberality kept th
rest of Midvale men from going dee]
w
$
down in their pockets.
Keturah Scales, who, although sh
Sowed for a living, belonged to everv
thing going and somehow did he
•hare, smiled oddly to herself, bu
kept silent—as usual. LUy Gree
Hushed angrily, but was also silent
Beatrix spring up with eves light
tug vividly • I’nU-SB you take tha
back/' she said, trying hard to speai
.•steadily. "1 will quit the guild—an
swu I think, will every other perso
who hates Stabbing in the dark."
“Don't fly at me so fiercely. Jetin;
"Wren”' Mr«. Eight said, trying t
Speak y.S' l>. though she w a
frowning. "I forgot:'’ significantly.
"1 will take It b&i k—on condition
that you aak all of us to the wed- !
ding."
i "And ask Lily to be maid of honor."
lira Jaynes, vice-president, added j
She did not love Lily, and wanted to i
drag her In.
Heatrix gave them a long, steady j
I look. "1 won’t affect to misunderstand
;\ou," she said clearly. "Hut you di}
me too much honor. I could not, if
I would, marry Altaon Blake-—he Is
too Intent upon being the knight of all
women ever to think of tielng the hus
band of one."
"Amen"' Keturah said it, and rev
I orently—Keturah. who had never be
; fore raised her voice In public.
She had risen. Now she continued
In a high, breathless voice: “Amen’
And amen’ 1 tell you. You women
come together and talk a little chari
ty and a heap of scandal, and nag
men folks into giving money that you
fool away, mostly—and Alison Hlake
goes his way. doing real good. Never
mind how I know—1 do know. I ri
less you let him alone, all Midvale
shall know Just what happefis here—
you won’t like that’ Y’ou won’t last
long after It Is known-"
I "indeed’ Who Is to make It known?
! or forget the guild obligation of si
lence,” Mrs. Light said, trying to be
withering.
Keturah almost tossed her head. "1
know I can’t tell It, but Jenny Wren
..can." ahe cried In triumph, w alking t ■
ward the door.
Beatrix was already there mu) Lily
close behind her. Both were Crying.
Outside they turned and held out hands
to each other.
Keturah nodded approval "Come on
treirne with me, you two,” she said
I ’1 have things to tell you. You’re
sweet and young, and Ia>rd knows I
don’t want you to grow up cats, like
the others."
In her small, stuffy room she told
them. "You know Alison Blake a lit
tle hit—how every man and boy that
works for him gets a little beyond
living wage* Hut you don’t know
that he’s paying better than living
wages to the folks that work for the
‘Crescent’—writers, picture makers,
prlntt rs. and all Cash on the nail,
too. No, he doesn’t own It. A young
fellow he likes started 4? and got in
deep water Alison pulled him out
and has stood behind him since. Me
Insists that the ’Crescent’ will make
them both rich in the end. if It does
1 know where the money’ll go-—Into
helping the folks that need help,
whether or not ihey deserve it.”
“How do you know so much?” I.tly
asked.
"Why! I take the money tip to town:
Midvale thinks I go there after fash
ions. laird, if It knew!"
! "Hut how did you get Into it?” Lily
! persisted.
Keturah eyed her for a minute, lor
j sallow cheeks flushing faintly. "Now
I’ve told you so much ’taint worth
while to keep anything hack," she
said. "You see. I came to understand
i him In our getting together over Jenny
Wren.’’
"Jenny Wren!" Lily repeated in
credulously. "You are not—you can’t
be - - ”
"I ain’t," Keturah said with a sly
smile. "But 1 am -as much as any
body except Alison himself. You see,
I was In debt a hundred’ dollars on
account of death and slok'ness. and 1
hadn't gul any out. working five years.
It made me desperate. I tried to write
i something -verses, you know. Alison
pays for all he prints. He didn't print
my verses, but they brought us to
gether. and ho hatched up t he plan—I
- to tell him tlie things Jenny ought to
know about, and let him see how wo
■ men thought, and all. and he’d put
'em down. Ami he paid me ten dollars
• 1 a week for Just that, and us he come
’ j to know- I was trusty got me to !«elp
with the other things Now I’m debt
’ free, and have money enough to buy
• wedding clothes. Silas and I have
> waited fifteen years for that."
Lily and Beatrix looked at each other
• through swimming eyes, and went
away silently, walking close together
At the corner, Lily turned, saying
! timidly: “’You'll soon be making your
■ wedding rlothes. Bee. Mr, lllake ask
ed me last night If he might dare tell
- you how he loved you."
I "What did you tell him?" Be asked,
i very low.
1 Lily laughed softly. “That It would
i not be in the least bit daring," she
said. "Hurry up the wedding, please
It must come off before the passing
i : of Jenny Wren, or mid vale will fee]
s bitterly defrauded."
m
Black In House Furnishings
Gives Distinctive Touch
C'Uantct'T Added to Hangings il
Black \ civet or Satin Kib
bous An I sed.
Lightlies* "i color, with a distinc
tive touch <«f bln. k, should he the ef
le* t aimed lor in furnishing all
houses tills spring. Brown and gray.
with hardly more than a thread of
black, tuny he called the newest inni
hinntiori but in many i uses black is
•Umihated. As an • sample of this
fad, some eurialo» being made now
the lttlng room of a fashionable
country house ar* »,.ft gray silk, with
M large self-tone 1 patterns, Running
through the gr , euwork of ttiis. so
it *•>#! dominantly in only one light,
ill a soft brown, and three inches
from the clg-. o-wfi tne sides and
across the i-vtt m is a band of black
Velvet rib!, .n t •* jr. h»* Aid*. Th
fraiKrk* l.a.* , t r. * 'filch Is
treated In to* aarn* man:.* r
Whit- dimity drap-ric* r
ftilo wai.-ms frU-- d s.:.i fad
with black vrivet nole..* are . harm
ing. and add greatly t tic artistic
•th* r
back
effect of a room done ;i. .-r
gpre-eu.
Decoration* sllil she . a pr. ft r- re .
for materials and wall paper* that
match. But inexperienced hour* h*:*,.-p
pnl tan not be too careful in employ
ing this treatment, either for living
or bedrooms H i* a * hara< teristb
Of all such pattern* that they are l*dd
B»4> striking, and only a place that is
large can be BO finished without con
fusing the eye A plain wall and bold
rials art better for any room
than twenty feet long and twelve
" fifteen wide.
Another effect to be avoided when
~dth paper and hanging* are selected
la gaeurtug different pattern* each of
wrhtob U bold, fcvin though the color
may accord, the finish will
|Mt be harmonious. It 1* by no mean*
—“->• to have a "fiat" wait, a* da
nay. In order to use a gaily
ered or bird pattern hangings, but
i niu*.’ be no question as to w hieh
If subordinated.
*:Jb**« in mind, now a bedroom in
houae that ha* wall* hung
paper in ribbon effect.
are* low and no bor
iountry
gray
cretonne gay with pink roses in a
large design.
A good thing for an Inexperienced
purchaser to remember la that cotton
, hold* color better than linen, because
(the natural thread of the former la
hollow, and so soaps up the dye, while
linen, being solid, dues not take In
the color, merely holds It on the out
side.
At no windows now are curtains so
hung as to cover the pane. Klth.-r
through drapery or valances the win
dow is left exposed
HELEN HOWE.
1»ID YOU EVE It SEE WIND?
MinpU* Experiment Which Makes the
l'cat Easy One.
Seeing the wind Is a rare but easj
feat. The object wherewith It may bt
seen is a common saw . On any blowy
day—the wind being, say, in the north
—hold your saw with the ends point
ing one tu the east, the other to the
west Take the saw as If you were
going to cut the air upward, and lei
the teeth, which are on top, tilt over
till the tlut part of the saw Is at an
angle of il degrees with the horizon
You will then see the wind, leioklng
al -ng the teeth of the ,saw you will
ly as you may see water [Louring over
a fall—Kansas City Star
lb-fore beginning to fry onions or
boll a cabbage, etc., see that the top
of the kitchen window is open and
also diaw hack the grating above
the stove, em If this in only open a
few Inches, the smell from whatever
is being cooked will have a mean ol
escape, instead of tilling the kitchen
and penetrating to other parts of the
house It is a good plan to have some
; cedar wood dust at hand to use on
' such occasions; a little scattered nvet
the hot stove gives off a pleasant odor
| which will entirely prevent the smell)
1 from Irf-ing noticeable.—Woman's
ldfe.
Odors From the Kitchen
l'oetlcus— Have you read Shakes
peare's "Hove's Labor Host’"
Cynic us—No, but I’ve taken a glr
; to the theatre and had her talk U
i the man next her all through ths
' show-—Woman's JUfs.
r/a
—
COPYRIGHT. 1910. BY THE NEW YORK EVENING TELEGM* (NEW YORK HERALD CCA Al Rjgbto Imiwi
THE NEW THEATER
II) PHKUKRIr J. HASKIJi.
j Within a few weeks the New ,
Theatre, the first attempt in America
* toward the establishment of a mi- j
tlonal theatre a Ionic the lines of the
government Institutions of France ami
Germany, will round out its first sea
son in New York. Throwing open
its doors to the public early in No
vember. the last five months have
been fraught ■with' many Trials Tor The y
palatial temple of art. which oeeu
pies the entire block from .Sixty-sec
ond to Sixty-third street. Central l'»tk
West. The history of its inception,
the work which It has atmmpUshed
and the aims which it hopes to rea
lise, all form an interesting chapter
In the history of dramatic art In the
New World
The New Theatre was established
by thirty of America s most represen
tative business men. and, according to
their announcement upon the occasion
of Its dedication, It is Intended pri
marily as an institution of service-to
Berve the cause of dramatc art and
so serve the playgoing public. Three
million dollars was subscribed to be
used for the theatre building and for
the endowment fund. Should any pro- j
fits accrue no dividends will be paid, f
but a permanent endowment fund will
be created for enlarging the scope ot
the enterprise.
While numerous enterprises have
I been Started In America, mainly In
I New York, looking toward the elevu- .
tlon of the drama from the eommer- ;
r ial features which now surround it. ,
the one man to whom most credit is.
given for the crystallzation of the
ideas and the ideals on which the
New Theatre has been founded was
Heinrich Conried,' who was the dl--l
rector of the German repertory the
atre in New York before his work at- .
! traded the attention of the directors 1
j of the Metropolitan Opera House.
Herr Courted accomplished so much
artistically for the drama of the
higher type that, in spite of the fact ;
that he was neither u musician nor a
! musical Impressarlo, he was made |
i director of the Metropolitan Opera.
and gave distinguished service in that
; position. While acting In that ca
pacity he was thrown In close con- !
tact with the men who have since j
become tho founders of the institu
tion Which now graces Central Park
West, und which for the past year j
has been the storm centre of adnla- :
tlon and of vituperation. It was Herr
Conrled who urged the establishment
of such a playhouse along the lines
of the German theatre in New York,
but of a much wider and more com
pn henslve s( ope. The fruition of this
golden dream dime true several
months after the death of the direc
tor. The brilliant Courted began life
as a scene shifter in the magnificent i
Hofburg Theatre In Vienna.
fly all odds the handsomest play
house In America, und ranking as one
i of the three finest in the world, the
New Theater was thrown open to an
l Invited audience on the afternoon of
November 6, ISO!*, when the dedication
J exercises took place. It was a notable j
event, adding dignity and standing to j
dramatic art In America- On the stage
! were some the world's greatest flnan- j
j cters while the State of New York
I was represented by Governor Hughes
{and by Senator Klihu Root. Johnston
i Forbes-Robertson, probably tho fore
! most living Kngllah-speaking actor.
1 rend Hamlet’s “Address to the Play - I
ers" as the creed of the New Theater i
i Company.
During Its first season, which Is |
nearing Its close, the New Theater !
has produced four classic dramas—i
''Antony and Cleopatra," “A Winter’s
Tale,” “Twelfth Night" and "The!
School for Scandal.” In addition to
them, John Galsworthy's “Strife,'' nj
modern drama of capital and labor; |
Edward Sheldon's “Nigger,'' a play j
dealing with the race question In the
South; “The Witch,” having as Us
: th«m« the Salem witchcraft horrors; I
t “Sister Beatrice,” one o£ Maurice Maa
terilnck’s latoBt works; the fourth art
of Ibsen’s "Hnuidf; Rudolph Hosier's
"Don," and Edward Knoblauch's "The
Cottage tn the Air," have been offered
to the public. In itililitlon to these dra
matic works, the Metropolitan opera
Company has presented several of the
lighter operas This is a feature which
has been found unprofitable. however,
and will be abandoned next season,
although It was originally intended,
that the New Theater should In a
measure be an adjunct of the Metro
puli tun Opera House, where the lighter
operas might be presented In the more
favorable surroundings of a smaller
auditorium.
The triumvirate chosen to direct the
destinies of the New Theater is com
posed of Wlnthrop Ames, of Koaton,
director; Lae Hhulu-rt, head of the in
dependents (as opposed to the theatri
cal syndicate or trust" in the theatri
cal warfare now being waged), as busi
ness manager, and John Corbin, form
erly dramatic critic of the New York
Sun, as literary director. Mr. Ames
will continue in ids pr(/,ent position
next year, and probably Mr. Shubert
also, but Mr. Corbin, whose lot it has
been to read tin- plays submitted for
production, has resigned, with the
statement that tile reading of 2,000
manuscripts of plays, good, bad and
indifferent, has been entirely too Irk
some a task for him lo continue In his
present post. This statement has n<H
entirely explained internal conditions
to the satisfaction of the public, which
sees In his resignation an evidence of
discord.
The theatrical trust and its sub
sidiary organizations have been open
ly hostile to a hat has been termed
the "millionaires playhouse." Much
of the anlmoslu is, of course, to he
explained by the fact that the head
of the opposing faction, Mr. Shubert,
was chosen as the business manager.
On the other hand, the achievements
of the first season have not been as
brilliant as had been anticipated. Di
rector Ames in a public statement
a few weeks ago said that the New
Theatre had not lost any money on
its dramatic performances, but it is
generally admitted that the choice of
plays has not been altogether felici
tous. One of the chief points of criti
cism of the management of the New
Theatre has been that, while It is
supposed to be essentially an Ameri
can Institution, a majority of the mod
ern plays have been alien playwrights
and the personnel of the permanent
company embraces the names of many
English actors and actresses.
in spite of its shortcomings, the dts
Interested, intelligent playgoer and
well-wisher of the drama will look
upon the tlrst year of the New The- i
atre as one of much promise for a
long and useful career. That America :
has needed such an institution for '
many years is an indisputable fai t, j
and it is believed the problems which j
now' seem so perplexing will work
themselves out, provided the leaders
rematn devoted to the ideals upon
which the organization was founded.
The New Theatre building embraces j
many features which are revolution
ary. The structure is of clear gray
Indiana limestone, and the architec
ture is classical in detail and propor
tion. following the precedent of the
Italian lienalssance and suggesting
the Sansovino Library in the Piazza
dl San Marco. Venice. The interior
is finished In ash-gray and gold. The
proscenium is framed in a wide bor
ders in colors and gold. The boxes
and foyer stalls are lined in the same
red velvet. The decoration is the
work of James Wall Finn. There are
sixty-eight exits, thus enabling the
most crowded auditorium to be emp
tied in three minutes. On each of
the corners in front is a double cir
cular monumental staircase riisiug the
entire height of the building.
The stage embraces many novel feat
ures. There Is a revolving platform,
which enables two scenes to be set
at the same time. After one has been
used the other may be turned Into po
sition without loss oY time or hin
drance to the players. The dressing
roems are among the most spacious
and commodious In the. world. Shower
baths are provided for the members
of the company, and the make-up ta
bles embrace till the most approved
ideas in the way of lighting effects and
mirrors. On the roof has been ar
ranged a small auditorium to seat four
or five hundred people. Here will be
given the more intimate comedies, the
subtlety of which would be lost In the
large auditorium. The main stage
itself is one hundred fe«t between fly
galleries, and its height is one hundred
and nineteen feet to the gridiron. The
depth of the pit Is thirty-two feet be
low the stage level. One of the buga
boos of the palatial playhouse for sev
eral weeks after It was thrown open
to the public was the fear that Its
acoustic properties would be exceed
ingly faulty. This proved to be an un
necessary ularm. however, for while It
Is not Ideal In this respect, it Is about
as satisfactory' as could be expected
In an auditorium of this size.
To-morrow:
ELECTRICITY.
Slippers in Bronze and Dull
Silver Will Be Worn Evenings
These Models Are Plain With Exception of Small Metal Buckle
That Harmonizes With Color of Materia! in
Slippers
<»old arul silwr cloth slippers have
been fashionable for several years, but
on account of their slitter have not
been satisfactory for the reaeon that
their shiny surfaces made even small
feet look large, and then, too, they
were suitable for none but elaborate
toilets. Hence the popularity of the
duller effects in steel and bronae, and
tho latter shade will be a decided fa
vorite. owing to the preference for ail
tones on the new pheasant color.
lironze will harmonise with a cos
tume of the lovely soft pheasant
browns, even to Imparting the sheen
seen on the feathers.
The cloth of steel slippers are equal
ly lovely and may be worn with a
gown of almost any color.
The toes of these dainty slippers are
decorated with rosettea or bowa of the
qpss alptfe ttat ifc UflJ
buckles of gold metal on gold slip
pers and steel on steel, etc.
Boots and shoes for dress wear this
spring have patent leather vamps
with cloth tops. All black Is smarter
than colored tops, though some wo
men like white tops. Speaking of
white. 1 am told white buckskin will
be worn this summer. It was tried
last summer and found unsatisfactory.
The brown and tan shades are con
sidered good style for 1910. Pumps
are as popular as ever and are to be
bought in black, white and tan. strap-,
ped and plain, as the wearer prefers.
U« sandals will be used as dress
shoes. They are fascinating and have
a tendency to apparently decrease the
stse of the foot, because the toes are
short.
Those are made from the softest
klA mA AftcositoA wftfe UK 4ftumait
'wi, IL .. . xrs/ja&X* •
GUEST
QUESNAY
& &
Tarkington
CapyrtfM. HM, >y tW McCIwi CIT
A OryiifUL IW. I HA, ky tke IMpty Cw/Hy
(Continued from Yesterday.)
1 have heard Ward use au oath only
wo or three times in my life, and this
was one of them.
“Oh, by -1" be cried, starting to
tils feet. “I should like to meet Pro
'essor Keredec.”
"I am at your service, my dear sir,”
said a deep voice from the veranda.
\vtl, opening the door, the professor
walked Into the room.
CHAPTER XII.
I SAID cavalierly: “This Is Mr.
Ward, Professor Keredec. He Is
Mrs. Harrasn’s cousin and close
friend. We were speaking of
Four^reasons TtsmmslTsr Mrrf larmam
to this place.' Frankly, we were ques
tioning your motives.”
“My motives? I have wished to re
store to two young people the paradise
which they had losed."
Ward uttered an exclamation none
the less violent because it was half
suppressed.
“We should be glad of an explana
tion.” be said, resting his arms on my
table and leaning across it toward
Keredec.
“It is simple,” began the professor.
“I learned my poor boy’s history well
from those who could tell me. from his
papers—yes, and from the bundles of
old time letters which were given me.
From all these 1 learned what a beau
tiful soul was that lady who loved him
so much that she ran away from her
home for his sake, nelns! He was al
ready the slave of what was bad and
foolish; he had gone too far from him
self. was overlaid with the habit of
evil, and she could not save him then
The spirit was dying In him. although
it was there, and it was good’’—
Ward's acrid laughter rang out in
the room.
“The Inconceivable selfishness, the
devilish brutality of it!” Ward’s face
was scarlet. “You didn’t care bow you
sacrificed her”—
“Sacrificed 1” The professor sudden
ly released the huge volume of his
voice. “Sacrificed!" he thundered, “if
1 could give him back to her as he is
now it would be restoring to her all
that she had loved ix) him, tbe real sell
of him! It would be the greatest gift
in her life.”
“Then, my dear Keredec,” 1 answer
ed. “either you are really insane or I
am! You 1 new that this poor, unfor
tunate devlt of a Harman was tted to
that hyenk: prowler yonder who means
to fatten on him and will never re
lease him; you kuew that. Then why
did you bring him down here to fall
in love with a woman he can never
have?’
“My dear fellow.” interposed George
quickly, “you underrate Professor Ker
edec’s shrewdness. He knows that
my cousin Louise never obtained a di
vorce from her husband.”
“What?' I said, amazed.
“1 say Mrs. Harman never obtained
a divorce.”
“I saw notices of it at the time,” I
“No. What yon saw was that she
had made an application for divorce.
Her family got her that far and then
she revolted. The suit was dropped."
“It Is true. Indeed." said Keredec.
“The poor boy was on the other side
of the world, and he thought it was
granted.”
1 turned upon him sharply. “You
knew it?"
"It Is a year that I have known It"
“Do yon not understand." George in
terposed. “that what Professor Ker
edec risked for his ‘poor boy' in re
turning to France was a trial on the
charge of bigamy?"
The professor recoiled from the defi
nite brutality.
“I conceive it very likely to happen,"
said George, “unless you get him out
of the country before the lady now in
stalled here as his wife discovers the
truth."
“But sho must not!” Keredec lifted
both hands toward Ward appealingly.
S They trembled. “She cannot! There
is nothing that could make her soaped
itr
“One particular thing would be my
telling her." said Ward quietly.
"Never!” cried the professor. “You
would uot do that!”
“I will, unless you get him out of
the couutry. and quickly."
“Oforge!” 1 exclaimed, coming for
ward between them. “This won't do
at all! You can’t”—
“That’s enough." he said, waving
me back, and I saw that his band was
shaking, too. like Keredec's. His face
had grown very white. “1 know what
you tblnk.” be went on. addressing
me. "but you’re wrong. It isn’t for
myself. When I sailed for New York
I thought there was a chance that she
would carry out the action she began
heading in a shade that matches the
color of the kid, so that while such
footwear is moat beautiful, it Is by
no means conspicuous, and should be
practical.
Not less attractive are the slippers
in brocade. In this material only the
dullest tones of deep copper, old gold,
odd reddish shades and bronze greens
are used.
Elderly women as well as younger
j ones will undoubtedly find this line
i of pretty footwear especially suited to
I their needs.
A few changes are seen in the.
styles of walking shoes, For ea
1 wanla. to* motolg to button lm
fonr years Ago and rid nemix of bum
definitely—that is. I thought until tos
day there was some hope for me. If
"Sacrificed!' he thundered.
she's seen hJm again and he's beenf
anything except literally unbearable!
it’s all over with roe.- From the Brat)
1 uever bad a chance agatnat hits.;
He was a hanl rival, even when be'dj
become only a cruel memory’ Hi*
voice rose. "Heaven knows why it isJ
It Isn’t because of anything he's douuj
or has—it’s Just because it's him. B
suppose—but I know my chance ME
gone for good. That leaves me fkeei
to act for her. No one can accuse ran:
of doing it for myself. And 1 sweart
she shan't go through that slough
despond again while I have breath ltd
my body:"
'•George, for pity’s safe#:” I sbouted,j
throwing my arm about his shoulders*
for his voice had risen to a pitch of
excitement and fury that 1 fearedi
must bring the whole place upon am
Some one was already knocking for?
admission.
X crossed the room and opened the!
door. Miss Elizabeth stood there, red)
faced and flustered, and behind hen
stood Mr. Cresson Ingle, who looked^
dubiously amused
Miss Elizabeth cut short a rathe* ■
embarrassed handshRfce which her be*
trotbed and I exchanged.
“Tills morning i learned the true slW
uatiou over here, and I’m afraid!
Louise has heard. At least she’s noa
at Quetmay. 1 got into a panic fan
fear sh# had come here; but. thann
heaven, she does not seem to— Goodj
gracious! Wbafs that?"
It was the discordant voice of Mart
ana la Muralana. My door was still
open. I turned to look and aaw her.
hot faced, tousle haired, insufficiently
wrapped, striving to ascend the gal
lery steps, but valiantly opposed bj
Mme. Brosssrd.
“But no, madams.” insisted Mme.
Bros sard. “You cannot ascend. Thera
is nothing on the upper floor except
the apartment of Professor Keredec."
“Name of a dog7’ shrilled the other.
"It is my husband's apartment, Z t*l|
! you. II y n nne femme ivee lul7*
“It Is Mme. Harman who is there,'*
said Keredec hoarsely in my ear. "9
came away and left them together.**
“Come.” I said, and, letting the otht
■ era think what they would. spran||
j across the veranda, the professor he*
j side me, and ran toward the two wo*
I men, who were beginning to struggle
< with more than their tongues. 1 leap*
1 ed by them and up the steps, bat
i Keredec thrust himself between our
hostess and her opponent, planting hi*
great bulk on the lowest step. Glanot
lng hurriedly over my shoulder, Isa*
the Spanish woman strike him far*
ously upon the breast with both handai
hut I knew she would never pass him,
I entered the salon of the “grandg
suite” and dosed the door quickly bat
hind me.
( To be Continued.)
i are not bo high as those worn last
I spring, for the newest art; only eleven
j and twelve button length. Vlcl kid
is the approved leather for button and
lace shoes Intended for wear wit*
tailored gowns; also tan calfskin ox
fords. The new designs in low shoe*
are shapely on account of the wing
ttp finish. This gives a graceful
curve to the foot, while the dainty
pierced decorat'on adds beauty to thu
shoes.
For afternoon weajr patent leather
vamps with black cloth tops are con#
sidered correct for those who prefer
high ones. Pumps will be worn Wit*
handsome afternoon gowns either la
black or brown shades. Gray will nog
be worn.
The Cuban heel is still preferred to
any other. It Is In medium height
and a little broader than formerly
thus giving more support to the fee*
' The heights range from one and five
1 eighths inch<3 to one and seven
eighths inches.
The French heel Is used on soma
of the more elaborate slippers for «re>: