Evening Star Newspaper, January 22, 1922, Page 60

FICESTER, & most charming old New England county seat, has a proper pride in its antiquity and bas & proper pride in its i modernity. | No orsanisation in Leicester, how- @ver, quite equals the Women's City Club in preserving the traditions of the past and yet kéeping thioroughly abreast of the times. The first October meet- ing each year is Settlers’ day, and it s a matter of pride that the descend- ants of all the original inhabitants that can be located be present. The second meeting of this organiza- tion is always Curent Events afternoon. This last year the subject was “Europe _ —a Dispassionate Diagnosis,” with a " distinguished speaker from Boston. But the real business of the afternoon was transacted over teacups and an outline of that would have been Interesting. It would have read: Subject—Leicester's new department store. Richard Lyons, the proprietor. * Age. (Not a day over thirty surely.} Antecedents. (Son of the Lyons—he has ‘a chain of neighborhood depart- ment stores, you know). Prospects—Financial. (I just dropped in out of curiosity. His prices are un- der Leyland's in several things. But the store is not so well done.) Possibilities—Soclal. (He really Is good-looking and plays a good game of golf. Allison Hurd had him out to the Country Club Sunday.) Allison Hurd, the Lyons advertising manager. : Common Report. (Her mother was terribly against her taking that busi- ness course at Simmons. Her Mary told my Delia that she is utterly prostrated by Allison’s accepting & position at Lyons’ which, as long as it continues to stick to the no-charge-account plan, will' certainly not have the patronage of any but the lower classes.) Doubts. (One can’t help wondeins, with & girl, whether going into business is just a whim or whether she realy means it. Especially when a girl is as attractive as Alligon.) Suspicious. (It is rather significant that she should take him to the Coun- try Club. No, she hasn’t had him up to the house, as yet. Mrs. Hurd is such a stickler for famiy, you know, and his father started as & ‘bundle boy and they say his mother was & cash girl) * % Kk K 3 RICH'A.'RD Lyons bade fair to be- come a personage in Leicester. Allison Hurd already was; for her to actually enter business was & picture- esque and colorful event. As for Lyons' other employes, numbering & hundred or so, they were merely ful- filling the destinies for which an all- wise Creator had obviously designed them. Even as democratic an organ- fzstion as the Women's Club could not be expected to take notice of the going to work of Marjorie Morse. Nevertheless, if it was no event to Leicester, it was to her. That same afternoon she burst into the house llke a miniature cyclone. “Aunt Jane! Oh, Aunt Jane!” she called. Then as her aunt’s volce came down from above she added, “Don’t come down, I'll come up.” This she did, soaring over the stairs. Breathless, ecstatic, italic, eyes aglow, cheeks pink, she made the great an- nouncement. “Isn’t it ducky,” she ‘concluded. *«Just think! 1 expected to have to study ages yet Bt the principal says I've done so wel that he's sure I'll make good. I'm going there the first thing tomorrow morning. Of course it isn't really certain yet, but—" Marjorie left the sentence in the air, while she hugged Aunt Jane. “Mercy!” gasped Aunt Jane. “Learn to restrain yourself, child! Did you wipe your feet?" “Ill brush up,” promised Marje, unabashed. She knew that although Aunt Jane was gray and gaunt and her tongue acid, her heart was not. “And I'll buy you a dozen specs. Oh, I could simply dance. Come on, let's shimmy——" “Stop! Stop, I won't. Marjorie!” But Marje, small and slim though she was, had surprising strength. Only the slamming of the front door saved Aunt Jane's last vestige of dig- nity. Marje rushed down to greet her father with the great news. “Well, well!” he commented. I can retire to a lifeof ease!” Marje, however, was busy arrange ing a stage setting. She swept the ceater table clear and moved a chair up to it. \ “You sit there,” she directed, “and pretend it's a spiffy mahogany desk. Then your private secretary says “The new stenographer is outside, sir’ " Marje paused for breath, as he obeyed. “Now I come in. You must look wvery critical and business-like. And ask me a lot of questions, you know—" “Can you spell ‘cat, miss?” inter- polated her father. “You aren't the least bit proud—or tmpressed!” she accused. “I am. Proud as Punch and im- pressed as—" “The dickens,” suggested Marje, Joyously, and sailed into his lap. “Oh, I say,” he protested, “if this is ‘what the school teaches as the proper method to approach a prospective em- ployer—" “SHIr{” sald Marje, rubbing her cheek sgainst his. Then she added, “I do hope he's not the awful cutting sarcastic kind. If he is, I'll die!” * %X XX No one who could have seen her then would have thought that likely. But that was because Marje at home and Marje abroad were to- tally different persons. And, although it was not Richard Lyons, but Allison ‘Hurd whom she had to face, she near- 1y aied anyway. ‘This her father never suspected, and Aunt Jane would have snapped, #What poppy-cock!” But Letty Saw- ger knew! *“The trouble with you, Marje,” she told her, “is that you're too darn shy. ‘You shut up like a clam when & man speaks to you. That doesn’t get you anywhere—" “T don’t want to get anywhere,” re- torted Marje. “Try that on somebody else’s piano,” remarked Letty. She paused and eyed Marje critically. *“You really aren't bad-looking. And, anyway, look at Mildred Grosier. She’s as homely as| ‘> hedgs fence, but the men all fall for her, just because she baby-vamps Shemf® Thea she edded abruptly, 2 “Now “Mr. Lyons is awfully good-looking, isn’t he?” Marje nodded. “They say half the girls have a crush on him,” Letty went on. “Is it true Allison Hurd is trying to grab him?7* * “I don’t think she'll have to try much,” sald Marje, honestly. “You mean she's got him roped al- ready?” Letty's tone was eager. “He likes her,” Marje evaded. “Isn’t there a thread pulled in your sweat- er? “Egypt's queen—where? Oh, that! Lend me a thread and needle, Marje. It's bad enough to pay all outdoors for things without having them fall apart the first time you wear them. I borrowed $10 from dad for a pair of silver slippers and the first time I ‘wore them the heel—" This-wise, Letty, her mind deftly switched, rambled on while she took the stitch in time that would save nine. Then, discovering it was after 5. she rushed away. The house was very still. Marje's father was taking his Sunday afternoon nap down- stairs, Aunt Jane had gone to pay a call. “She {s just the sort,” mused Marje, “that would attract him. If I were & man, I'd be crazy enough about her to die!” ‘The clock downstairs struck 6, re- minding her that she had promised to start supper. She rose. but paused to Ew!tc.h on the light. Then, poised in front of her mirror, she gave her- self passionately critical scrutiny. Brown hair, soft and wavy—but just plan brown; gray eyes, with straight lashes; a straight little, slightly up- tilted nose and a mouth that was—oh, miles too big! So she saw herself, with profound dissatisfaction. “Of all the silly idiots!” she in- formed herself, and started down- stairs. AT D. 0, JANUARY 22, "MISS MOUSE— 1922—PART 4.~ “HELLO! WHAT'S THAT?” EXCLAIMED A VOICE BEHIND HER. “LETS HAVE A LOOK AT IT.” MARJE PRAYED THE FLOOR MIGHT OPEN AND SWALLOW HER. The rattling of stove lids in the|terfere with dispassionate discussion lki!ci!l awakened her father. rubbed his eyes. “Er—hum,” he yawned. “Must be ‘most supper time.” He lay there, however, in comfort- able lethargy. The front door opened and closed; he heard Aunt Jane's voice. “Not a light lit! And supper not started, I suppose,” she grumbled. She collided with a chair. Then, from the kitchen her voice again: “Just as thought! I sup- pose you've been out gallivanting around—-" “No, I've been in my room all afternoon,” answered Marje. “You ought to be ashamed of your- self,” retorted Aunt Jane, character- Istically. “After being cooped up all week. And such a lovely afternoon. too! That Allison Hurd just went by, with Mr. Lyons, on horseback. They were talking about you. I couldn’t eatch just what they sald—" “Why, Aunt Jane!” Marje exclaimed. “You—you must be mistaken.” LETTY, LEANING OVER THE BANISTERS, WHISPERED A LAST WORD OF ADVICE TO THE PANIC- STRICKEN.” “Seems to me,” commented Aunt Jane, “that sitting in your room gives you considerable color. As for my not knowing what I'm talking about, I guess I have ears.” * ok ok ok EARS she unquestionably had, and, Marje's doubt to the contrary, they had heard accurately. Richard Lyons, riding by, had noticed Marje’s home and had been moved to com- ment on the inevitable hominess of such old white colonial cottages, shel- tered by dignified old elms. “Oh, that,” Allison told him, where Little Miss Mouse lives.” “Little Miss Mouse"—he looked puz- zled. “My stenographer,” she explained. “Her name is really Morse, but I call her that. She’s just out of business college, and so shy that.she trembles every time I speak to her.” “They are apt to take their first position seriously,” he commented. “That's not the whole of it. She has & crush on me. Think of that, sir!” “I can well believe it,” he “Let’s gallop,” she said. you home.” Allison Hurd assuredly had Richard Lyons guessing. In so far as what might be termed her purely feminine campaign went, he would have freely admitted that her presence in Leices- ter was making his own there much more enjoyable. As to her presence in the stors, he—well, there were moments when the purely feminine g id. “T'll race campaign managed somehow to in- that, He|of her advertising campaign. ( This very afternoon she had given him an opening. She had asked him how he liked the store's Sunday ad- vertising. He had paused, choosing his words. “Don’t tell me it's cut and dried— and conservative,” she challenged, quickly. “I know it—but so is Lei- cester.” Her cyes had met his with smiling confidence. He hesitated and then surrendered absolutely, yet again. “Of course, you are a better judge of that than I," he acknowledged. This appeased her, yet failed to silence doubts that were beginning to beset him. When he bade her good- bye, and turned to the Leicester Inn, they overtook him again. When he reached his room, the light he switched on revealed him sober and harassed The Sunday papers were spread over the center tables as he had left them, open to his advertise- ments. He knew them almost by heart now, yet they drew his eyes “Remember.” his father's last letter had read, “that I always decide in advance exactly how much I'm will- ing to gamble on a store’s success. I pelieve in making the manager put the store across on the capital allot- ted for the purpose. Not until the store has made money itself does he get any more from the general treas- ury. I believe in every tub standing on its own bottom ™ “I suppose there would be sort of a comedy touch inh a lot of children’s de luxe frocks knocking this tub off its bottom,” he thought. Then he swept the papers together and stuffed them in the waste basket. “Well, I'll know where I stand by this time to- morrow,” he decided. Even soner than that he knew. At 11 o'clock the next morning Marje say him pass by and enter Allison Hurd’s office. “Please prepare a special ad for these frocks de luxe for the morning papers,” he directed. “I don’t care what space you use—I want to move them.” She looked up at him, amused. “I don’t belleve,” she assured him, cheer- fully, “that dynamite would move those frocks.” * ¥ k ¥ RICHARD frowned, without realiz- ing it or that her expression had swiftly changed. “It seems to me that if there is anything in advertis- ing—- Her eyes were chillier than he had ever seen them, but no chillier than her volce. “Advertising,” she inform- ed him, “will make people bny what they want or need. It won't cram goods they don't want down their throats and no sensible person ex- pects it to.” “It means & lot to me just now.” He paused, and then, hoping to enlist her interest, he went on. “Confi- dentially, these frocks, with business conditions as they are, may prove the straw that will break the camel's But Allison, still very much out- raged, refused to yield an inch. “You should have thought of business con- ditions when you purchased them,” agaln. His glance ran over the va- rious items and stopped at: “SMALL CHILDREN'S DE LUXE FROCKS OF GEORGETTE, TULLE AND ORGANDY — A WONDERFUL VALUE AT THIRTY 'DOLLARS.” The frocks had been a gamble; he really believed they were far too ex- pensive for his trade. And that, paradoxically, had driven him to buy- ing them. “Some merchant he had often heard his father declare, “say that in & poor neighbornood they can sell only cheap merchandise. To my way of thinking that is a big mistake. I myself sold waists for twenty-five dollars in my first store, though my predecessor had never had the cour- age to stock anything higher than five dollars.” “They may go,” he thought, “but it was & fool stunt to’'take a chance right now when I need every oent of oapital” . p Lelcester would have wondered at she retorted, “and not try to make me the scapegoat.” Now neither realized that he had left the door ajar or that Marje, sit- ting just outside, could not but hear everything they said. “O—h!"” she gasped, involuntarily. The next instant Richard had emerged. But he had not eyes for her anyway. He looked like a young man who is making a tremendous effort. to keep himself from saying something he might later regret, and little ste- mnographers, hectically at work, were outside his ken. He passed rapidly, and Marje, catching her breath, saw what she had written. “. . . in view of existing busi- ness conditions, we do not feel that & further advance in your rates .is equitable, and therefore beg to say that, oh, it's awful—awful!” This, she realised, would never do. She must keep her mind on What she was doing, although it was awful, simply awful! el - The busser beside her desk made ez jumpe Shesuatohed up het acte-’ book and pencil and rushed into Alll- son Hurd's office. “A letter to Mr. Lyons, please,” she directed, and began forthwith. “I feel that, everything considered, it is best for me to offer my resigna- tion as advertising manager. therefore do, with the request that it be accepted at your earliest con- venience.” To which she added: “Please type it at once and bring it to me to sign.” “Of course he won't accept it,” Marje assured herself. “And the frocks will sell and everything will be. all right again.” ‘When noon came she left her lunch untouched to go down and look at the fatal frocks. They hung dis- played in all their glory, as delicately hued as a fairy's trousseau. Marje had been prepared to hate them, but the first sight of them opened up a vista into her own not so remote childhood. Then Aunt Jane had made all her dresses—and Aunt Jane was what is described as a good plain sewer. “If I could have had a dress like one of these just once,” she thought, “I think I would have died of pure Joy!* “It seems as if they must sell,” she said, unconsciously epeaking aloud. “Believe me, they don't” remarked a salesgirl. “They would,” retorted Marje—but to herself, “if mothers remembered!” As she opened her lunch it grew on her. “If somebody coule only make moth- ers understand,” she mused. * % x x HE thrust aside her half-finished lunch and began to work out what was in her mind, because paper and pencil had somehow become more of & necessity than sandwiches and cocoa. Her noon hour passed, but she still sat there, the rudimentary copy of her first advertisement before her. 8he wondered if it was too silly to show Allison Hurd and decided that it was. But this did not deter her from ferreting out a Sunday paper and cutting out a picture of the frock used with the advertisement there and pasting it on her own copy. “That looks bette: she thought, holding it off at arm's length. “Hello!” exclaimed a voice behind her “What's that? Marje jumped too late. “Let's have a look at it,” requested Richard Lyons. Marje prayed that the floor might open up and swallow her. She jumped again, when he exclaimed: “This is something Hke! I knew she could do it if she tried. What size is she going to run it in?” Marje was mercifully saved from answering. “Run what?” demanded Allison Hurd's cool, assured voice. Richard turned to her, his face alight. “This” he explained, holding up poor Marje's advertisement. “I'm tickled stiff with it.” «Indeed?’ Allison’s voice was chill and edged now. “May I see it?’ Taken aback, he let her have it. She cast her eye over it and then let it slip to Marje's desk with a little con- temptuous turn of her wrist. “May I ask where you got it?” Richard looked bewildered. “Why— didn't you write it?” “1 should hope not. It's positively puerile” 5 “Why, she isn't even a good sport!” ‘| ne thought. Then he turned back to “Who did write it?” he asked, Marje. abruptly. Suddenly it dawnéd upon him. “Why-—you Wrote it yourself!” exclaimed. . . “I should have thought!” interposed Allison, “you might have guessed.” Richard's eyes went to her. He was only human and not yet thirty, and so it was not fair to attribute his answer—as Allison did—to his breed- ing.. “I am eurprised I did not,” he com- mented,.in & tone to match hers. The color flooded Allison's. face. “You will please remember that as long a8 I am advertising manager I am responsidle in -the pubdblic mind for what appears over the store sig- pature. Therefore, I prefer—" “I am sorry.” he broke in. “But as you have already tendered your resig- nation—" 2 % Allison waited for no more. And, although her breeding was surely of the best, it cannot be denied that her office door slammed behind her. Theé tmpact made Marje jump—and appar- ently restored power of speech to her. “Oh, I'm so sorry!” she murmured, unhappily. 7 he This I, ubon The next quarter of an hour was the worst Marje had ever experienced. She dreaded the moment when Allison Hurd should reappear. When the door finally opened Allison Hurd swept— there is no other word for it—down her. “The chauffeur will call for my per- sonal belongings,” she said, in a tone immeasurably aloof. “Please see that he gets them.” “‘Of course,” assented Marje, hastily. Her eyes were passionately plead- ing. But Allison Hurd was not to be deterred from characteristic use of what those who knew her best called her claws. “And I congratulate you,” she went on, “on your quick seizure of oppor- tunity. I apologise for having under- rated you in the past.” Marje said nothing, she could not. But after Allison had gone she thought, over and over again, “Oh, how, how could she say such a thing!” * k% x THOSE who knew Allison better would have realized that she had but begun. She went directly to the Country Club, where she knew a con- siderable number of her own circle would be found. She airily announced that she had left Lyons' and then put into circulation a deftly manipulated version of the episode that, before nightfall, had managed to spread throughout Leicester. Small wonder, indeed, that the head- lines in the Leicester papers the next morning were of no importance com- pared to Lyons' advertisement. Every- body searched that out at once, to read: “Be your own little girl's fairy god- mother this Christmas. “Once upon a time there was a little girl who always went to parties in somebody else’s made-over clothes. One day the little girl next door took her into the spare room and showed her, spread out on the bed, the dress she was going to wear to the party the next day. The dress was pink georgette and it was accordion pleated. It wouldn't wear and wouldn’t wash, but it was the loveli- est thing she had ever seen. That little girl has never wanted anything since so much as she wanted a frock | like that. “And, oh, how she longed for a fairy godmother! “Even the littlest girl feels that way. When, in the fairy tale, the fairy godmother waves her wand and a beautiful gown drops on Cinderella's shoulders, every little girl thrills through eand through, as she pictures herself in Cinderella’s place. And if you have a little girl, you can make this the most wonderful Christmas of all for her. You can be her fairy godmother and give her a frock that will always be a beautiful memory, a trock that—" Others, presumably, read further. But Aunt Jane did not. “I did the best I could for you,” she announced, dropping the paper. “I—I—" Marje's father looked up from his bacon and eggs. The abrupt depar- ture of Aunt Jane, kitchenward, and Marje's instant pursuit, left him abso- lutely speechless and even more be- wildered. ! But Marje understood. “Of course, you did!” she soothed, vigorously. “I —oh, I didn’t mean it that way, Aunt Jane. Please don't feel so. You've done everything for me. I—I1 wish I'd never written that old ad. Every- thing has gone wrong, just because I didn't mind my own business.” To that Richard Lyons would never have agreed. That very morning Marje, looking up, saw him smiling down at her. “I felt it in my bones that you had hit the exact note,” he assured her. “And the way those frocks are mov- ing out of the store proves it. I wish now I'd stocked twice as many.” new advertising' manager that that 1ittle Miss Morse had ideas worth listening to, “Keep an eye on her,” he suggested. * ok kK THIB. young Mr. Allen was more than willing to do. Indeed, dur- ing the afternoon of his second Sun- day in Lelcester he decided to drop in on her. And so it was that an en- thralled Letty and an utterly ap- palled Marjorie, saw him approaching the front door. “You sly puss!” exclaimed Letty. “You mever told me a word about him!” % [“There must be s mistake,” Marje sasped. “I—oh, Letty, don't go—" “Catch me busting in,” retorted Letty. “It's me for the back door.” Mr. Allen was one of those who are perfectly content with an audience. He was satisfied graclously, to in- clude her father and Aunt Jane when they appeared later. Then, as gra- ciously, he permitted himself to be prevalled upon to stay to Sunday night supper. ‘Marje rose promptly to help Aunt Jane with this, but Aunt Jane refused aid.’ “You stay and entertain your com- pany, Marjorie,” she said. “That was bad enough,” Marje told Letty, subsequently, “but then she called to father te come out and he went and never reappeared. “How late did he stay?’ demanded Letty. “Until almost 10.” “Is he coming again next Sunday?” “How do I know?” “Marje Morse! Didn't you invite him?" “Why, Letty Sawyer. Even Mil- dred Groaler wouldn't ask him point- blank—"" “F1l bet she would.” “Well, I wouldn't. And neither would you!” “Not in so many words,” admitted Letty. “But you might say that you hoped he'd come sgain—" She broke ihat oft abruptly to shift to, ‘Marje, you must get him to take you to the Christmas eve dance—" “Invite him to take me, I suppose’ “Don’t be silly! But you could mention it and give him a chance to invite you. Do you suppose any girl, even a raving beauty, can just sit still and have a man drop into her lap—" “I thought it was the other way —around—girls dropping into men's laps—" “If you would only talk up that way to men,” wailed Letty. “I see myself! Besides I haven't a thing to wear—" “Not a thing to wear! Do you mean to say you aren’t going to take that dress Mr. Lyons offered you—" Marje colored anew. “I'd rather not—-" “Marje Morse! You need a guard- fan, absolutely. Here's a chance to get a perfectly good dress and a per- fectly good man for a dance and you —you say ,youwd rather not. I'm coming to the store tomorrow to help you pick out a dress. And I'll see that you do, too!” And she did. Those who said Letty would never get anywhere because she was such a scatter-brain did her a wrong. She had streaks of per- tinacity, and on the following Sun- day she sang her siren's song. “There!” she announced, surveying hundred per cent prettier, Marje. Now let's try on your new frock—I haven't really seen it yet—" “Aunt Jane has” commented Marje. “And she says that she never ex- pected to see the da ] “Oh, Aunt Jane!” sniffed Letty. “Where is it—in the closet?” Marje brought it forth and spread it on the bed. Exquisite in line and coloring, spangled here and there with bits of crystal embroidery, it was like & spring flower with dew on it. Just to look at it lit little lamps that shone in Marje's eyes, “It's a perfect peach™ Letty said. “Put it on and I'll hook you up.” Marje, slipping out of her little blue serge, wriggled into the gown of gowns. In Marje's eyes, as she slowly pirouetted before her glass, there was that which proved her a true daugh- ter of Eve. Yet: “You are sure that it isn't too—too striking?” “Striking! Oh, my aunt!” moaned Letty. “You look exactly like Cin- derella waiting for the prince to ap- pear. Why, if Mr. Allen could see you now he'd positively grovel—" A peal from the front doorbell stopped her short. “There he is now!” announced Letty gleefully. 1\ ARJE gave her a Dbeseeching glance. “Run down, Letty,” she begged. “Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes—" “You watch me! doorbells.” “But I can't! think—" “Tell him you've just been trying on your new dress. Ask him how he likes it. Hurry—there goes the bell again. If you don't go, I will. And I'll tell him exactly why— “You wouldn’t—you couldn’t!” “Oh, couldn’t 17" said Letty, grimly, and started for the door. Marje, panic-stricken, shot past her. Letty, leaning over the. banisters, whispered a last word of advice. “Don’t get rattled if he looks sur- prised. It will only be because he never realized what a perfect peach you are. I mean it!” Marje managed to open the front * ¥ X % Answer your own What would he ‘I'm—I'm glad,” Marje managed to| 450y articulate. “Egypt's queen!” gasped Letty, and “Of course,” he added abruptly, “you | j,4t saved herself fror tumbling over know we pay for suggestions—" “Oh, I'd rather not be paid for it,” protested Marje hastily. Richard considered her, the banister. 3 “Is Miss Morse——" the visitor bé- and then: “Why, I didn’t khow gan, Plainly you for an instant! May I come in?" i pussied. “Then Its's put it this way. Marje nodded dumbly. And in came Suppose you"—he smiled again—'be| Richard Lyons himself! your own fairy godmother and take “I happened to be passing.” he ex- your choice of .any frock or gown |plained, “and I thought I'd drop in.” we have in stock?” “Can You beat {t?"'thought Letty. This absolutely demanded acknowl-) “And me trying to help her!” edgment. “Thank you,” Marje, and began to type furiously. murmured| Richard had indeed been passing. deeply preoccupied’ with a problem The episode was ended—and yet it} for which there seemed no solution. wasn't. Richard Lyons so far ignored | The sight of Marje’s home, with the the precedent established by fiction |rays of the westering sun filling the as to appoint in Allison Hurd's place, | windows, had penetrated his absorp- not Marje, but & young man named Richard did not hear her. “T'l taks | Jeffsrson Allen—whom he, took over tion. ~He remembered :that Allison Hurd had identified the house for him,| and acting on an impulse he turned in | Il land’s has gobbled everybody up.” “Is that all he talked about?” askegd Letty slyly. Ny “No,” admitted Marje. “He talk- ed— ¥ “And simply stared. I'll bet he aid. Marje's coiffure with the pride of a creator. “It makes you look a |—By. Royal Brown “Of course it's preposterous to ex< pect her to suggest anything,” he ase sured nimself. “But she is clever™ This discovery was almost eclipsed by another, as he stood there, smiling down at her. “Why!” he thought, “she’s posie tively pretty!” She thought it was the frock he vas looking at. “I—I was just trying this on,” she managed, “Is this the reward for that adver- tisement of yours? he broke In quickly, Marje nodded. “If you'll just wait & minute or two, I'll change—" “Oh, please don't! I like It im- mensely. I had no idea anything half 80 lovely was to be found in Lyons. Besides I can only stop a minute.” He paused, consclous that her at- tention had wandered. As her eyes came back td him she blushed violent- ly—though that was not the word that occurred to him. “Excuse me,” she begged, “I—won't you come into the living room?” This he did not understand. But tty did. “You knew,” she charged, an hour later, “that I was simply perishing with curiosity and you deliberately dragged him into the living room. What did he talk about anyway?" “He's having trouble getting extra help for thé' Christmas rush. Ley-, 1 | I You look like & changed girl—o “T'll be one before Aunt Jane gets home,” commented Marje. *I was petrified all the time he was here for fear she’d march in and tell me to B0 upstairs and get—dressed! She'd be capable of. it."” Nevertheless, after Letty had gone she drew all her curtains and switche ed on all the lights and turned yet again to her mirror. “It's the gown—not me!” she as- sured herself, severely. But when the next day she foroed herself to his office, she was in dlue serge again; yet there was, In his eyes, that same quickened sometbing that comes only when a man begins to ses a girl he had only looked at before. “A—about extra help for Christe mas,” she began. “You've an idea? he exdlaimed, eagerly. “Ir+the Women's Club is having s drive for a clubhouse of their own. They're doing all kinds of things to get money. 1 thought that perhaps, if you'd give them a percentage on their sales, some of the members would be glad to work here during the rush season and turn the money over to the fund.” He rose to his feet, his eyes alight. “They'll jump at it. Why that per- centage idea in fitself is & stroke of genius. They’ll draw all the trade they can to help swell the amount. Miss Morse, you're a wonder!” * % * x “y\,IERC\'- child, what's come over “'" you,” dtmanded Aunt Jane after supper. “You've been standing there wiping that one dish for five min- utes—" The doorbell pealed an interrup- tion. “I can guess!” commented Aunt Jane.” Give me that dish towel and run along—" “I telephoned the Women's Club," announced Richard. “And they jumped at the chance. I thought you'd be interested——" “Oh, I am!" she exclaimed. Won't—won't you step in?" Richard did, and—well, there is no denying that at the next current events meeting of the Women's Club the topic for the day was of second- ary interest. For that night saw the start of something that carried Rich- ard fast and far. But then, as Allison Hurd declared, he merely followed precedent. “His father married a cash girl, he’s marrying a stenographer. Up- holding family traditions, you see.” Richard, however, put it differently. “But I don't see why,” began Marje—a glorified, rosy, yet still in- credulous Marje—"why you—" “I do,” he assured her. “You are so clever that 1 need you in the busi- ness and so adorably pretty that if I don’t gobble you up some other man—" Then: “Pretty?’ echoed Marje, with widened eyes. “Why, I'm not. Not the least bit. My mouth”—she blushed—"is simply miles too—" “Too far away,” he interjected promptly. “Come back here—" “But Aunt Jane! She—" “Her turn comes later. Please!” And she pleased. (Copyright, 1922, by Sewell Ford.) (All rights reserved.) The Valuable Palm. *T"HE palm tree is one of nature's great gifts‘to man. One may sing the praises of the pine and oak, the ce- dar and cypress, but the palm is worth at least a pleasant word. There are hundreds of species of palm, but that which stands out as serving man in most ways is the cocoanut or cocoanut palm. And after the cocoanut in im- portance and utility comes the date tree or the date palm. The palm tree of Scripture is un- derstood to have been the date palm. For all the centuries that man has lived on earth the date palm has fur- nished food and shelter. Its timber and its. folinge have their uses even now. Sugar—date sugar—is niade from its sap just as maple sugar is made from the sap of the maple tree. Its sap has been fermented into wine 10r scores of countries, and that sap for many ages has been distilled into a . brandy that is as flery and overwhelm- ing as apple brandy, peach brandy and grape brandy. s Dates, fresh and dried, have been used as food for uncountable cen- turies, and dried dates are an im- portant article of commerce between countries.. The date tree grows pretty much throughout northern Africa and western Asio, and the dates which seem to have the high- est rating. for size, medtiness, sweet- ness and flavor grow. in the countries; around the Persian gulf, s believe that the date palm, which was d by our remote ancestors, from the wild date d. that that devplop- before the beglaning