The Yale expositor., April 16, 1914, Image 6

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TWR YAI .F. FXPOS1TOR. THURSDAY. APRIL 16. 1914.
WWrm . of Her Band
SYNOPSIS.
Challis Wrandall Is found murdered in
Burton's Inn near Now York. Mrs. Wran
dall I summoned from the i-lty tt Identify
the body. W'ranrlall. It appi-ars, had ld
a gay life and neglfcted his wife.
CHAPTER I Continued.
Tm not bo sure of It," said the cor
oner, shaking his head. "I have a
feeling that she Isn't one of the ordi
nary type. It wouldn't surprise me If
she belongs to well, you might say
the upper ten. Somebody's wife, don't
tou see. That will make It rather dif
ficult, especially as her tracks have
been pretty well covered."
"It beats me, how she got away
without leaving a single sign behind
her," acknowledged the sheriff. "She's
a wonder, that's all I've get to say."
At that Instant the door opened and
Mrs. "Wrandall appeared. She stopped
short, confronting the huddled group,
dry-eyed but as pallid as a ghost. Her
eyes were wide, apparently unseeing;
her colorless lips were parted In the
drawn rigidity that suggested but one
thing to the professional man who
looks: the "risis sardonicus" of the
ftrychnae victim. With a low cry,
the doctor started forward, fully con
vinced that she had swallowed the
deadly drug.
"For God's sake, madam," he began,
flut aa he spoke her expression
changed; she eeemed to be aware of
their presence for the first time. Her
eyes narrowed in a curious manner,
and the rigid lips seemed to surge
with blood, presenting the effect of a
queer, swift-lading smile that lingered
long after her face was set and seri
ous. "I neglected to raise the window, Dr.
Sheet," she said In a low voice. "It
was very cold in there." She shivered
slightly. "Will you be so kind as to
tell me what I am to do now? What
formalities remain for me "
The coroner was at her side. "Time
enough for that, Mrs. Wrandall. The
first thing you are to do is to take
something warm to drink, and pull
yourself together a bit "
She drew herself up coldly. "I am
quite myself, Dr. Sheef. Pray do not
alarm yourself on my account. I shall
be obliged to you, however, If you will
tell me what I am to do as speedily as
possible, and let me do it so that I
may leave this this unhappy place
without delay. No! I mean It, sir.
I am going tonight unless, of course,"
she said, with a quick look at the sher
iff, "the law stands in the way."
"You are at liberty to come and go
as you please, Mrs. Wrandall," said the
sheriff, "but it is most foolhardy to
think of"
"Thank you, Mr. Sheriff," she said,
"for letting me go. I thought perhaps
there might bo legal restraint." She
sent a swift glance over her shoulder,
and then spoke In a high, shrill voice,
indicative of extreme dread and uneas
iness: "Close the door to that room!"
The door was standing wide open,
Just as she had left It. Startled, the
coroner's deputy sprang forward to
close it. Involuntarily, all of her lis
teners looked in the direction of the
room, as If expecting to tsee the form
of the murdered man advancing upon
them. The feeling, swiftly gone, was
most uncanny.
"Close it from the inside," com
manded the coroner, with unmistaka
ble emphasis. The man hesitated, and
then did as he was ordered, but not
without a curious look at the wife of
the dead man, whose back was toward
him.
"He will not find anything disturbed,
doctor," saul she, divining his thought.
"I had the feeling that something was
creeping toward us out of that room."
"You have every reason to be nerv
ous, madam. The situation has been
most extraordinary most trying,"
said the coroner. "I beg of you to
come downstairs, where we may at
tend to a few necessary details with
out delay. It has been a most fa
tiguing matter for all of us. Hours
without sleep, and such wretched
weather."
.They descended to the warm little
reception room. She sent at once for
the inn keeper, who came in and glow
, ered at her aa if she were wholly re
sponsible for the blight that had been
put upon his place.
"Will you be good enough to send
some one to the station with me in
your depot wagon?" she demanded
without hesitation.
He stared. "We don't run a 'bus
In the winter time," he said, gruffly.
She opened the little chatelaine bag
that hung from her wrist and abstract
ed a card which she submitted to the
coroner.
"You will find. Doctor Sheef, that the
car my husband came up here In be
longs to me. This is the card issued
by the state. It is In my name. The
factory number is there. You may
i compare It with the one on the car.
illy husband took the car without ob
taining my consent."
"Joy riding," said Burton, with an
ogly laugh. Then he quailed before
!the look she gave him.
"If no other means is offered. Doc
tor Sheef, I shall ask you to let me
(take the car. I am perfectly capable
lof driving. I hare driven it in the
(country for two seasons. All I ask is
tiiai iodu) ooft t lirectcd to go ttb
w Th3 Hollow
me to the station. No! Better than
that, If there Is some one here who la
willing to accompany me to the city,
he shall be handsomely paid for going.
It is but little more than 30 miles. I
refuse to spend the night in this
house. That is final."
They drew apart to confer, leaving
her sitting before the fire, a stark fig
ure that seemed to detach Itself en
tirely from its surroundings and their
companionship. At last the coroner
came to her side and touched her arm.
"I don't know what the district at
torney and the police will say to It,
Mrs. Wrandall, but I shall take It upon
myself to deliver the car to you. The
sheriff has gone out to compare the
numbers. If he finds that the car is
yours, he will see to it, with Mr.
Drake, that it Is made ready for you.
I take It that we will have no difficulty
in " He hesitated, at a loss for
words.
"In finding It again In case you need
It for evidence?" she supplied. He
nodded. "I shall make It a point, Doc
tor Sheef, to present the car to the
state after It has served my purpose
tonight. I shall not ride in it again."
"The sheriff has a man who will
ride with you to the station or the
city, whichever you may elect. Now,
may I trouble you to make answer to
certain questions I shall write out for
you at once? The man is Challis
Wrandall, your husband? You are
positive?"
"I am positive. He Is or was
Challis Wrandall."
Half an hour later she was ready for
the trip to New York city. The clock
in the office marked the hour as one.
A toddled individual In a great buffa
lo coat waited for her outside, hic
coughing and bandying Jest with the
half-frozen men who had spent the
night with him In the yjrlorn hope of
finding the girl.
Mrs. Wrandall gave final instruc
tions to the coroner and hia deputy,
who happened to be the undertaker's
assistant. She had answered all the
questions that had been put to her.
and had signed the document with a
firm, untrembling hand. Her veil had
been lowered since the beginning of
the examination. They did not see
her face; they only heard the calm,
low voice, sweet with fatigue and
dread.
"I shall notify my brother-in-law as
soon as I reach the city," she said.
"He will attend to everything. Mr.
Leslie Wrandall. I mean. My hus
band's only brother. He will be here
In tho morning, Doctor Sheef. My own
apartment is not open. I have been
staying In a hotel since my return
from Europe two days ago. Hut I
shall attend to the opening of the
place tomorrow. You will find me
there."
The coroner hesitated a moment be
fore putting the question that bad
come to his mind as she Bpoke.
"Two days ago, madam? May I In
quire where your husband has been
living during your absence abroad?
When did you last see him alive?"
She did not reply for many sec
onds, and then it was with a percepti
ble effort.
"I have net ?een him since my re-
"This Man Will Go With You, Madam,"
Said the Sheriff.
turn until tonight," she replied, a
hoarse note creeping into her voice.
"He did not meet me on my return.
His brother Leslie came to the dock.
He he said that Challis, who came
back from Europe two weeks ahead
of me, had been called to St. Louis on
very important business. My husband
had been living at his club, I under
stand. That is all I can tell you, sir."
"I see," said the coroner, gently.
He opened the door for her and she
passed out. A number of men were
grouped about the throbbing motor
car. They fell away as she ap
proached, silently fading into the
shadows like so many vast, unwhole
some ghosts. The sheriff and Drake
came forward.
"This man will go with you, ma
dam," said the sheriff, pointing to an
unsteady figure beside the machine.
"He Is the only one who will under
take it. They're all played out, you
see. He has been drinking, but only
on account of the hardships he has
undergone tonight You will be quite
safe with Morley."
No snow wu felling, but a bleak
Georoe Barr TviCiitdhftrnr
wind blew meanly. The air was free
from particles of sleet; wetly the fall
of tho night clung to the earth where
it had fallen.
"If he will guide me to the Post
road, that is all I ask," said she hur
riedly. Involuntarily she glanced up
ward. The curtains in an upstairs
window were blowing Inward and a
dim light shone out upon the roof of
the porch. She shuddered and then
climbed up to the seat and took her
place at the wheel.
A few moments later the three men
standing in the middle of the road
watched the car as It rushed away.
"By George, she's a wonder I " said
the sheriff.
CHAPTER II.
The Passing of a Night.
The sheriff was right. Sara Wran
dall was an extraordinary woman, If
I may be permitted to modify his rath
er crude estimate of her. It Is difficult
to understand, much less describe a
nature like hers. Fine-minded, gently
bred women who can go through an
ordeal such as she experienced with
out breaking under the strain are rare
Indeed. They must be wonderful. It
is hard to Imagine a more heart-breaking
crisis in life than tho one which
confronted her on this dreadful night,
and yet the faced it with a fortitude
that peems almost unholy.
She had loved her handsome, way
ward husband. Ho had hurt her deep
ly moro times than she chose to re
member during the six years of their
married life, but she had loved him
In spite of the wounds up to the in
stant when she stood beside his dead
body In the cold little room at Bur
ton's Inn. She went there loving him
as he had lived, yet prepared, almost
foresworn, to loathe him as he had
died, and she left him lying there
alone in that dreary room without a
spark of the old affection In her soul.
Her. love for him died In giving birth
to the hatred that now possessed her.
While he lived It was not in her pow
er to control the unreasoning, resist
less thing that stands for love in wom
an; he was her lover, the master of
her impulses. Dead, he was an un
wholesome, unlovely clod, a pallid
thing to be scorned, a hulk of worth
less clay. His blootl was cold. He
could no longer warm her with It; It
could no longer kill the chill that his
misdeeds cast about her tender sensi
tiveness; his lips and eyes never more
could smile and conquer. He was a
dead thing. Her love was a dead
thing. They lay separate and apart.
The tie was broken. With love died
the final spark of respect she had left
for him in her tired, loyal, betrayed
heart. He was at last a thing to be
despised, even by her. She despised
him.
She sent the car down the Flope and
across the moonless valley with small
regard for her own or her compan
ion's safety. It swerved from side to
side, skidded and leaped with terri
fying tudder.ne&s, but held Its way as
straight as the bird that files, driven
by a steady hand and a mind that had
no thought for peril. A sober man at
her side would have been afraid; this
man swayed mildly to and fro and
chuckled with drunken glee.
Her bitter thoughts were net of the
dead man back there, but of the live
years that fche was to bury with him;
years that would never pass beyond
her ken, that would never die. He
had loved her in his wild, ruthless
way. He had left her times without
number In the years gone by, but he
had always come back, gaily unchas
tened, to remold tho love that waited
with dog-like fidelity for the touch of
his cunning hand. But he had taken
his last flight. He would not come
back again. It was all over. Once too
often he had tried hia reckless wings.
She would not have to forgive him
again. Uppermost In her mind was
the curiously restful thought that his
troubles were over, and with them her
own. A hand less forgiving than hers
had struck him dead.
Somehow, she envied the woman to
whom that hand belonged It had
been her divine right to kill, and yet
another took it from her.
Back there at the inn she had said
to the astonished sheriff:
"Poor thing, if she can escape pun
ishment for this, let it be so. I shall
not help the law to kill her simply
because she took it in her own hands
to pay that man what she owed blm.
I shall not be the one to say that he
did not deserve death at her hands,
whoever she may be. No, I shall offer
no reward. If you catch her, I shall
be sorry for her, Mr. Sheriff. Believe
me, I bear her no grudge."
"But she robbed him," the sheriff
had cried.
"From my point of view, Mr. Sher
iff, that hasn't anything to do with the
case," was her significant reply.
"Of course, I am not defending
him."
"Nor am I defending her," she had
retorted. "It would appear that she Is
able to defend herself."
Now, on the cold, trackless road, she
was saying to herself that she did
have a grudge against the woman
who had destroyed the life that be
longed to her, who had tilled the
thing that wu hers to kUL She could
not mourn for him. She could only
wonder what the poor, hunted, ter
rified creature would do when taken
and made to pay for the thing she had
done.
Once, in the course of her bitter re
flections, she spoke aloud in a shrill,
tense voice, forgetful of the presence
of the man beside her:
"Thank God they will see him now
as I have seen him all these years.
They will know him as they have
never known him. Thank God for
that!"
The man looked at her stupidly and
muttered something under his breath.
She heard him, and recalling her wits,
asked which turn she was to take for
the station. The fellow lopped back
in the Beat, too drunk to reply.
For a moment she was dismayed,
frightened. Then she resolutely
reached out and shook him by the
shoulder. She had brought the car
to a full stop.
"Arouse yourself, man!" she cried.
"Do you. want to freeze to death?
Where is the station?"
He straightened up with an effort,
and, alter vainly seeking light in the
darkness, fell back again with a grunt,
but managed to wave his hand toward
the left. She took tho chance. In
five minutes she brought the car to a
standstill beside tho station. Through
the window she saw a man with his
feet cocked high, reading. He leaped
to his feet In amazement as she en
tered the waiting-room.
"Are you the agent?" she demanded
"No, ma'am. I'm 6imply staying
here for the sheriff. We're looking for
a woman say!" Ho stopped short
and stared at the veiled face with
wide, excited eyes. "Gee whiz! May
be you "
"No, I am not the woman you want
Do you know anything about the
trains?"
"I guess I'll telephone to the sheriff
before I "
"If you will step outside you will
find one of the sheriff's deputies In my
automobile, helplessly intoxicated. I
am Mrs. Wrandall."
"Oh," he gasped. "I heard 'em say
you were coming up tonight. Well,
say! What do you think of "
"In there a train In before morning?"
"No, ma'am. Seven-forty is the
first"
She waited a moment "Then I shall
have to ask you to come out and get
your fellow-deputy. He is useless to
me. I mean to go on In the machine.
The 6herlff understands."
The fellow hesitated.
"I cannot take him with me, and he
will freeze to death if I leave him in
the road. Will you come?"
The man stared at her.
"Say, Is it your husband?" he
asked agape.
She nodded her head.
"Well, I'll go out and have a look
at the fellow you've got with you,"
he said, still doubtful.
She stood In the door while he
crossed over to the car and peered at
the face of the sleeper.
"Steve Morley," he Bald. "Fuller'n
a goat."
"Please remove him from the car,"
she directed.
Later on, as he Etood looking down
at the inert fig'ire in the Lie; rocking
chair, and panting from his labors, he
heard her say patiently:
"And now will you be fo good as to
direct me to tho Post-road."
He scratched his head. "This Is
mighty queer, the whole business." he
declared, assailed by doubis. "Sup
pose you are not Mrs. Wrandall, but
the other one. What then?"
As if in answer to his question, the
man Morley opened his blear-eyes and
tried to get to his feet
"What what are we doin' here. Mis
Wran'all? Wha's up?"
"Stay where you a.-, Steve," 6ald
the other. "It's all right." Th e
went forth and pointed the way to
her. "It's a long ways to Columbus
Circle," he said. "I don't envy you the
trip. Keep straight ahead after you
hit the Post-road." He stood there
listening until the whir of the motor
was lost in the distance. "She'll never
make It," he said to himself. "It's
more than a strong man could do on
roads like these. She must be crazy."
Coming to the Post-road, she In
creased the speed of the car, with the
sharp wind behind her, her eyes In
tent on the white stretch that leaped
up in front of the lamps ll'ie a blank
wall beyond which there was nothing
but dense oblivion. But for the fact
that she knew that this road ran
straight and unobstructed Into the out
skirts of New York, she might have
lost courage and decision. The natural
confidence of an experienced driver
was hers. She had the daring of one
who has never met with an accident,
and who trusts to the Instincts rather
than to an actual understanding of
conditions. With her, it was not a
question of her own capacity and
strength, but a belief In the fidelity of
the engine that carried her forward.
It had not occurred to her that the
task of guiding that heavy, swerving
thing through the unbroken road waB
something beyond her powers of en
durance. Shd often had driven it a
hundred miles and more without rest
ing, or without losing test In the en
terprise; then why should she fear
the small matter of 30 miles, even un
der the most trying of conditions?
Sharply there came to her mind the
question: was she the only one abroad
in this black little world? What of
the other woman? The one who was
being hunted? Where was she? And
what of the ghost at her heels?
The car bounded over a railroad
crossing. She recalled the directions
given by the man at the station and
hastily applied the brake. There was
another and more dangerous crossing
a hundred yards ahead. She had been
warned particularly to take It care
fully, as there was a sharp curve in
the road beyond.
Suddenly she Jammed down the
emergency brake, a startled exclama
tion falling from her lips. Not 20
feet ahead, In the middle of the road
and directly In line with the light of
the lamps, stood a black, motionless
figure the figure of a woman whose
head was lowered and whose arms
hung limply at her Bides.
The woman In the car bent forward
over the wheel, staring hard. Many
seconds passed. At last the forlorn
object In the roadway lifted her face
and looked vacantly Into the glare of
the lamps. Her eyes were wide-open,
her face a ghastly white.
"God In heaven!" struggled from the
stiffening lips of Sara Wrandall. Her
fingers tightened on the wheel.
She knew. This was the woman!
The long brown ulster; the limp,
fluttering veil? "A woman about your
size and figure." the sheriff had said.
The figure swayed and tlfen moved
a few steps forward. Blinded by the
lights, she bent her head and shielded
her eyes with her hand the better to
glimpse the occupant of the car.
"Are you looking for me?" she cried
out shrilly, at the same time spread
ing her arms as if in surrender. It
was almost a wall.
Mrs. Wrandall caught her breath.
Her heart began to beat once more.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
she cried out, without knowing what
she said.
The girl started. She had not ex
pected to hear the voice of a woman.
She staggered to the side of the road,
out of the line of light
"I I beg your pardon." she cried
It was like a wail of disappointment
"I am sorry to have stopped you."
"Come here," commanded the other,
still staring.
The unsteady figure advanced. Halt
ing beside the car, she leaned across
the spare tires and gazed Into the
eyes of the driver. Their faces were
not more than a foot apart, their eyes
were narrowed in tense scrutiny.
"What do you want?" repeated Mrs.
Wrandall, her voice hoarse and trem
ulous. "I am looking for an Inn. It must
be near by. I do "
"An Inn?" with a start i
"I do not recall the name. It Is hot
far from a village. In the hills."
"Do you mean Burton's?"
"Yes. That's it. Can you direct
me?" The voice of the girl was faint;
she eeemed about to fall.
"It Is six or elpht miles from here,"
raid Mrs. Wra;:dall. still looking In
wonder at the miserable night-farer.
The girl's head sank; a moan of de-
.1 1 W 1 I .
She Knew This Was the Woman.
spalr came through her lips, ending in
a sob.
- "So far as that?" she murmured.
Then she drew herself up with a fine
show of resolution. "But I must not
stop here. Thank you."
"Walt!" cried the other. The girl
turned to her once more. "Ia is It
a matter of life or death?"
There was a long silence. "Yes. I
must find my way there. It Is death."
Sara Wrandall laid her heavily
gloved hand on the slim fingers that
touched the tire.
"Listen to me," she said, a shrill
note of resolve ringing In her voice.
"I am going to New York. Won't
you let me take you with me?"
The girl drew back, wonder and ap
prehension struggling for the mastery
of her eyes.
"But I am bound the other way. To
the Inn. I must go on."
"Come with me," said Sara Wrandall
firmly. "You must not go beck there.
I know what has happened there.
Come! I will take care of you. You
must not go to the Inn."
"You know?" faltered the girl.
"Yes. You poor thing!" There was
infinite pity in her voice.
The .:Irl laid her head on her arms.
Mrs. Wrandall sat above her, look
ing down, held mute by warring emo
tions. The Impossible had come to
pass. The girl for whom the whole
world would be searching in a day or
two, had stepped out of the unknown
and, by the most whimsical Jest of
fate, Into the custody of the one per
son most Interested of all in that self
same world. It was unbelievable. She
wondered if it were not a dream, or
the hallucination of an overwrought
mind. Spurred by the sudden doubt
ar to the reality of the object before
her, she stretched out her hand and
touched the girl's shoulder.
Instantly she looked up. Her fin
gers sought the friendly hand and
clasped It tightly. .
"Oh, if you will only take me to the
city with you! If you only give me
the chance," she cried hoarsely. "I
don't know what Impulse was driv
ing me back there. I only know I
could not help myself. You really
mean it? You will take me with you?"
"Yes. Don't be afraid. Come! Get
in." said the woman In the car rapidly.
"You you are real?"
The girl did not hear the strange
question. She was hurrying around
to the opposite side of the car. As
she crossed before the lamps, Mrs.
Wrandall noticed with dulled Inter
est that her garments were covered
with mud; her small, comely hat was
In sad disorder; loose wisps of hair
fluttered with the unsightly veil. Her
hands, she recalled, were clad In thin
suede gloves. She would be half
frozen. She had been out In all this
terrible weather perhaps since the
hour of her flight from the Inn.
The odd feeling of pity grew strong
er within her. She made no effort to
analyze It, nor to account for It. Why
should she pity the slayer of her hus
band? It was a question unasked, un
considered. Afterwards she was to
recall this hour and Its strange Im
pulses, and to realize that it was not
pity, but mercy that moved her to do
the extraordinary thing that followed.
Trembling all over, her teeth chat
tering, her breath coming In short lit
tle moans, the girl struggled up be
side her and fell back in the seat.
Without a word, Sara Wrandall drew
the great buffalo robe over her and
tucked It In about her feet and legs
far up about her body, which had
slumped down In the seat.
"You are very, very good," chattered
the girl, almost inaudlbly. "I shall nev
er forget" She did not complete the
sentence, but sat upright and fixed her
gaze on her companion's face. "You
you are not doing this Just to turn
me over to to the police? They must
be searching for me. You are not
going to give me up to them, are you?
There will be a reward I "
"There Is no reward," said Sara
Wrandall sharply. "I do not mean to
give you up. I am simply giving you
a chance to get away. I have always
felt forry for the fox when the time
for the kill drew near. That's the
way I feel."
"Oh. thank you! Thank you! But
what am I paying? Why should I per
mit you to do this for me? I meant to
go back there and have it 'over with.
I know I can't escape. It will have to
come, it ia bound to come. Why put
it off? Let them take me, let them
do what they will with me. I "
"Hush! We'll see. First of all, un
derstand me: I shall not turn you
over to the police. I will give you the
chance. I will help you. I can do
no more than that"
. "But why should you help me? I
I oh, I can't let you do it! You do
not understand. I have committed
a terrible " she broke off with a
groan.
"I understand," said the other, some
thing like grlmness In her level tones.
"I have been tempted more than once
myself." The enigmatic remark made
no impression on the listener.
"I wonder how long ago It was that
It all happened," muttered the girl, as
If to berself. "It seems ages oh,
such ages."
"Where have you been hiding since
last night?" asked Mrs. Wrandall,
throwing in the clutch. The car start
ed forward with a jerk, kicking up the
snow behind It
"Was it only last night? Oh, I've
been " The thought of her suffer
ings from exposure and dread was too
much for the wretched creature. She
broke out in a soft wall.
"You've been out In all this weath
er?" demanded the other.
"I lost my way. In the hills back
there. I don't know where I was."
"Had you no place of shelter?"
"Where could I seek shelter? I
spent the day in the cellar of a farm
er's house. He didn't know I was
there. I have had no food."
"Why did you kill that man?"
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Guarding Against Expense. '
It took a New York millionarle to
hit ipon the best scheme yet for cut
ting down household expenses if one
must wed; he married a fashionable
milliner. Baltimore News,
Rubbing wears
clothes out wears
you out wastes time
wastes work. RUB-NO-MORE
WASH
ING POWDER saves
clothes saves you
saves time; because
it loosens dirt with
out rubbing.
RUB-NO -MORE
WASHING POWDER
it a sudless dirt re
mover for clothes.
A. It cleans your dishes.
iidki, iuiicis ina
cleans and sweetens
your milk crocks. It
kills germs. It does
not need hot water.
RUB-NO-MORE
Washing Powder
RUB-NO-MORE
Car bo Naptha Soap
Five Cents Alt Grocers
The Rub-No-More Co., FtWayne, Ind.
NOT HIGH-PRICED AMBITION
Magazine Poet Surely Could Not Be
Accused of Having Too Strong
Desire for Wealth.
Apropos of Marshall R. Kermochan,
who makes $30 a year by writing
music, a magazine poet said:
"To make $30 a year out of muslo
is pretty good, it's as much as I, a
successful poet, make out of verse.
"When they see my poetry In all the
magazines people think that I live
at the Ritz-Carlton. Alas, they don't
know the magazine poetry rates.
"A young lady said to me the other
day:
" T like your poetry so much. I have
often heard the expression beautiful
as a poet's dream. Tell me, what are
poet's dreams like?'
" 'Well, my dear young lady,' I re
plied, 'mine are usually about three
square meals a day, clean linen and
an occasional 5-cent cigar.' "
Putnam Fadeless Dyes will last un
til the goods wear out Adv.
Chesterton's Query.
Commenting on John Galsworthy's
recent arraignment of parliament for
sins of omission and commission, in
which the author decried the importa
tion into England of the plumage of
birds "to decorate our gentlewomen,"
G. K. ' Chesterton says: "This 13 a
real wrong and a scandal. I am
against gentlewomen being decorated.
They have their rouge and their hair
dye. Why cannot they be content to
be disguised?"
Smile on wash day. That's when you use
Red Cross Ball Blue. Clothes whiter than
aebw. All grocers. Adv.
Matter of Self-Protection.
"Youf servants use exceedingly bad
grammar."
"I pay 'em extra for It," replied Mr.
Cumrox. "I'm tired of having my line
of talk around the house suffering by
contrast"
Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets nnt put up
10 years aco. They regulate and invigorate,
stomach, liver and bowels. Sugar-coated
tiny granules. Adv.
Natural Ending.
"Was there any sign of mourning
when Miss Pretty face snapped up the
best matrimonial catch of the sea
son?" "Sure there was. All the belles
were told."
Important to Mothers
Examine carefully every bottle of
CASTOItIA, a safe and sure remedy for
infants and children and see that It
Signature of (Cfef
In Use For Over 30 Years.
Children Cry for Fletcher's Castoria
Brainless Town.
Bill Do you believe that fish make
bralne?
Jill I certainly do.
"Well, they tell me every man who
haa gone in the fish business la your
town has failed."
Have You a Bad Back?
Whenever you use your back, does a
sharp pain hit you? Does your back
ache constantly, feel sore and lame?
It's a sign of sick kidneys, especially if
the kidney action ia disordered too, pas
sages scanty or too frequent or off color.
In neglect there is danger of dropsy,
gravel or Bright's disease. Use Doan's
Kidney Pills which have cured thousands.
An Indiana Case
Mr.
John TV
der mj y nd my
nklra wr In
flamed nd awolltn.
I wm all crippled up
with rheumatism.
My back ached eon
atantly and I waa a
phyalcaj wrork. Ixi
tora and cxpenalva
treatment of epeolnl
tnfa failed. l)oan'a
Kidney PI 11a helped
me from the drat
and before, long- r
(oo4 health."
CM Down's mt Amy Stor.SO Dos
DOAN'S VilSV
FOSTER-MILBURN CO, BUFFALO, N.Y.
RELIEVES
TIRED EYES
PATENTS !&
aefi K. Poleme. n. Waxtv
(ton, D C. ltuokafree. High.
references, an
W. fi. U DETROIT, NO. 10-1914.
stor4 m to