Evening Star Newspaper, July 9, 1922, Page 58

Fg 7 The Lost Co A GLIMPSE OF O T think that impress youth that is progres ely mold. He has the personality that years spent in genuine craftsmanship bring —and he has worked hard for his success. “Pegging away,” is what he calls it. - " Oh yes, he sold his first story out of hand, and he has been selling hat means real labor and toil. He is slow in his method of procedure, but he constantly ever since, but t unhurried, seemingly alm arrives very firmly, and al arriving—the abil There is about him. too, the sees directly, and feels sharply the deeper things, but his great talent lies in treating factssif it be books it be stories, with a certain you reading to the end. “The Lost Columbine.” written expressly for the ALL-STAR PROGRAM OF AMERICAN .FICTION, delicate in plot, is yet poignantly full of meaning—it holds a special interptetation for both men and women. BOUT this fancy-dress ball at the country club to- night,” said Archibald Welkins, as his wife. look- ing very lovely in a French blue house dress. poured the morning cof- fee, “I don’t quite like the idea, do vou. Eleanor?” Her large blue eyes turned up to him inquiringly. “What don't you dear?” she asked “Oh. this fool notion of husbands and wives dressing separately knowing about each other's tumes * Often in the eight years of their mzrried hife he had ‘been disturbed by her trait of remaming silent when she disagreed with him. and now, as she did not reply, he stated more ex- plicitly what was in his mind. say- ing: “T think we'd better tell each other what we're going to wear.” “We'll find out when we unmask,” e like about it, she said “But I think the idea of secrecy is all nons * he insisted with a lit- tle show of heat. “Pass Mr Welkins the marmalade.” his wife said to the maid He helped himself, then repeated: “I think it's all nonsense.” Dut she did not answer. He had . mever known a woman with Eleanor’s capacity for silence. It gave her a mysterious power. “The steward at the club told me they'd had over 500 acceptances.” he went on. “That means a mixed ' crowd. and I'd like to know what vour costume is going to be so I can look after you. “That's sweet of you," she answer- e, “but I'm sure I shan't need look- tnz after” “You might.” he declared “Oh. T don't think so—not own country club.” “But I tell you it's going to be a mixed crowd. You're a darn pretty woman—and a blonde" And. as again she was lent, he added in a tone that held a hint of accusation: “Blondes zlways attract more atten- tion.” “Take some hot toast.” she said to him as the maid appeared. He took some, and waited till she left the room. Then he said: “I wonder why men alwa zood-looking blondes are— he did not finish the sentence. “Are what “Well, anyway." declared. dress makes people reckless feel that the lid's off. There'll be a lot of flasks, too. There's so much more drinking since prohibi- tion. That's another reason why I want to know." “Know what?" “What?" he repeated irritably “Just what I've been asking you— what you're going to wear.” “T don't think it would be plaving at our the game to tell,” she said. “How do you like this bacon? It's a new brand.” “Look here,” he said sharply, “you can’'t put me off that w You say you don't need looking -after, but your memory doesn’t seem to be so good as mine! Before your flirtation with that dolled-up French officer vou fell for I used to think you didn't need looking after, too. But I guess I—" He stopped. Having thrown in her face the one indiscretion of her married life, he instantly regretted it. He always did. He always told himself that to keep referring to it was to take a mean advantage of her, and that he would never speak of it again. Strange that he could not overcome the jealousy left with him by that episode of several vears ago, when, ever since, she had been so circum- spect. After all it had been only a mild flirtation, and the Frenchman wasn't very young. He was a fool to keep thinking of it, and a greater fool to harp upon it = He said no more, but left the table, angry with her and with him- self. . * ¥ k% IK the interest of secrecy it had been arranged that the wives shauld dine and dress together in cer- tain houses in the mneighborhood, whils the husbands dined and dressed in others, and that all should arrive at the club masked. Archibald Wel- kins consequently left the limousine 1o be used by his wife and her friends, and taking the bag containing his costume, which was supposed to make the wearer resemble King Charles 11, drove in his roadster to Tom Bavne's house, where he found a group of sen, some of them already to fheir {ivery, some dressing. all with cock- teil glasses in their hands. By the time he had donned the regal wig and knee breeches and drunk three cocktails, he began to change his mind about the fancy dress ball. Jt was an amusing idea, this secrecy. He was going to have a good time. Nevertheless, when he asked Eleanor what she was going to wear she should have told him. He still felt scme resentment about that. Tom Bayne had an excellent cellar. With dinner he.served large high- balls, and his Scotch was exceptional- 1y good. As Archibald Welkins was leaving the house with the others he caught his reflection in a mirror and approved thereof. The jeweled star shone brilliantly upon his breast; the black silk stockings admirably set off his legs. and the long dark, curly wig gave him, he thought, a mysterious appearance. What did he care, after all, about Eleanor's refusal to tell him what her costume was to be? He ,wasn't going to worry about Eleanor tonight. Not he! He had offered to— that was enough. She didn't kmow what he was wearing. either. Yes, he was going to have a good time! ‘With an Arab sheik, a Chinamsn and a soldler in the buff and blue of the Continental Army as his pas- sengers, he drove to the club, han- dling his roadster dashingly, and to F ALL the many qualities that belong to Julian Street the one you most is youth. v to better his many achievements. imitable charm that is entirely his own. All of his work shows the keenness of fine observation—little truisms, subtile points in characterization—ard the interest to keep JULIAN STREET He has the kind of permanent—he is cast in an ggeless knowledge of the big author who of travel he is writing, or people, if MARY STEWART CUTTING, JR. avold being recognized by his car, parked beside the drive at some dis- stance from the door and walked with his companions to the clubhouse. The doors and the French windows were open: dancing had already started: they could hear the music as they walked across the grass. Inside the ballroom door Welkins paused tc review the animated spectacle Masked soldiers, clowns coolies, cour* beauties. bull-fighters. odalisques woman jockies, geisha, harlequins | cowboys, Spanish senoritas. man darins, pirates, nymphs, Turks, queros. peasants whirled to music of the jazz band. Looking them over as they circled past he presently thought he recog- nized his -wife. She was dressed—if. indeed, it was Eleanor—as a French court lady. with patches, a high, pow- dered wig and a panniered gown of flowered silk, and was dancing with a Roman gladiator. He watched her around the room. Her height, her figure, her carriage were Eleanor's, and the costume had a dignity char- | acteristic of his wife's taste. When | she had passed several times he was quite cevtain of her. | * k% % PRESENTLY he became interested in Cleopatra, who fox-trotted into view with Napoleon. Eleanor would have made a handsome Cleopatra, too, but he felt sure she would never ap- pear in public in such scant attire. That Cleopatra woman was certain- ly attractive, though! He eut in on her and. as they danced, talked in a false voice, endeavoring to guess at her identity. But the fair Egyptian was popular. An Indian rajah soon snatched her away, leaving King Charles II free to seek ou} a fascinat- ing Columbine who, several times, | had passed near him in a dance and seemed responsive to his glances. Presently, with a beau of the colonial period. she came down the foor, a sprightly figure in a short black satin dress with a walst cut to a deep V in back. springy little skirts, thin openwork stockings and ballet slippers. With her huge white ruff and her black cocked hat pulled down at a saucy angle over bobbed red hair, she looked the incarnation of trresponsible gavety. He cut in and found that her danc- ing confirmed his impression. How light. how responsive she was! “I've been aiming to catch you.” he told her. disguising his voice by pitching it low. “‘Ave you, monsieur?" she chirped. “Well, zen, we are sympathique, for I too. ‘ave look at you, you beeg, 'and- some man!" The minx! She gave his hand a squeeze, which he prompt- Iy returned. “Are you French?" he asked in his assumed voice, “‘or are you putting on that accent?” “W'at you sink, monsieur?” “I think;” he said, “that it you're] putting it on you do it very well.” “An' vou, you bad, weeked king! 'Ow is your Nell Gwyn?" she asked. “Never mind Nell Gwyn," he said. “It's you I'm interested in. Don't tell me you're just a nice little married woman in disguise—wife of somé man who commutes to business in New York and drives a ball around these links on Sundays.” ’ “You ‘ope I'm real naughty Franch girl?” she asked, archly. “Indeed I do!” “Well ‘zen, follow me!" And with that she disengaged herself and flit- ted swiftly through a French window leading to the terrace. Pureuing. he lost her momentarily, for in the darkness her black dress gave her an advantage; but as she scampered down the steps toward the lawn and the links he caught sight of her white ruff, and sped after her. As she disappeared behind a large syriaga bush he heard a rippling laugh, and running to the other side, caught her in his arms. Then, as she was panting and laughing. and as it was dark, and they were masked, and the syringas smelled so sweet, he placed his hand beneath her chin, tilted it up, bent over, and was about to seize the fruits of victory, when he eluded him and ran off laughing, in the direction of the drive. * ok ¥ A PRISONER who escapes and is re- £} captured pays an added penalty, and when after another chase over the silver-green of moonlight grass, Charles 1I grasped the elusive: Co- lumbine, and exacted what he deemed just tribute from her lips, he was surprised and flattered by the ap- parent willingness with which she paid. Indeed, it was that willingness which made him confident that she would not again become a fugitive, and he was holding her lightly when, in a flash, she was off once more, this time running toward the clubhouse. Just at the doorway he caught up, but his appeal to her to stay outside was unavailing. i “No," she paid, firmly, “you are a naughty boy; an’ I 'ave foun’ you out. My ‘usban’ would not likg." “Your husband does not need to know," he urged, “nor my wife, either. That's what makes a party of this kind such fun, husbands and wives not knowing one another’s cogtumes.” " sald she, “but I 'ave already 'ad fun enough, my king.” And-with that she moved into the ballroom. By the door they .stood for moment watching the dancers. “Look!” he exclaimed suddenly. “There's another Columbine. She's like you—exactly like you—even to her red hair!” “Yes, we came togezzer.” “But suppose I were to lose you,” THE lumbine— How could I-tell the two of you not knowing each other's costumes.” apart?” “Zat is a questiol she said. Let's dance and talk it over.” “No, monsieur.” replled the Colum- bine, else.” As she spoke a cowled monk came now I mus’ dance wiz some wan | SUNDAY STAR. WASHINGTON, D. €., / “One of the Series of Complete Stories on “Marriqge 22 By America’s Leading Authors 1 | up. and in a moment she was dancing oft with him et me here afterw: urged | King Charles, as she moved away i I But she shook her head. “Hew shall I find you, then?” he de- | manded, following. | id she, and | | I don’t sink you can'" again he heard her tantalizing laugh. He retired to the doorway and watched for her. but by the time she came around again she was with a Sicilian brigand He cut in. But apparently this was the other Columbine, for she did not seem to know him. Her step was not £o light as that of the one he sought, JULY 9, 1922—PART 4. nor did she speak with a French accent. Never mind! He would find his lost Columbine. He was determined to find her. And when they unmasked he would learn who she was. * % ok % TME and again, when he saw a Col- umbine wearing a black cocked Why A IFRED MALLON. HE “plush breeches” of Am- bassador Harvey, his reported appearance in them and wear- ing a sword at Princess Mar; wedding and his alleged “decisiol not to wear them again, will not be- come an international incident after all, nor will it lead to the recall of the ambassador for failing to wear the “simple dress of an American gentleman” on this and similar occa- sions. It is a pity to spoil a good story, but the breéches worn by an Ameri- can ambassador at London are not of plush, are worn only at court func- !tions and social occasions at which royalty is present, and never at levees or when he presents his letters of credence cr recall: nor is a sword worn, or a cocked hat. Furthermore, the ambassador is not in a position to decide what he will wear on such occasions, the only decision open to him being to wear the required cos- tume and go or refuse to wear it and remaifl from court functions to which he is invited. “Otherwise,” it was admitted at the State Department, “the story as re- ported was &nbstantially correct. Court dress has been worn by every American minister and ambassador at London and by American diplomats at many other European courts ever since the foundation of this republic, court dress being not a uniform, but a recognition of the right of each court to indicate the costume to be worn by guests invited to its cere- monies and functions. * ok k% SINCE 1867, when Congress prohib- ited persons in the diplomatic service “from wearing any uniform or official costume not previougly au- thorized by Congress,” the ‘‘uniform" of an American diplomat has been and is a full-dress suit, in which he must appear on any occasion demand- ing “uniform” by day aslwell as by night. Thus attired, Dr. fl"llnm Mil- ler Collier, when ambassador to Spain, awaited with his ‘“cher col- leagues” in the gray dawn of a May morning in 1907 the birth of an heir to thé throne of Spain, a court re- quirement at Madrid being the at- tendance at the palace of the diplo- matic corps in full regalia to receive the announcement from the king or the court chamberlain. An American minister or ambassa- dor wears his dress suit when he presents his credentials, always an afternoon affair; when he goes t6 the station to welcome or to speed en his way a member of the royal family, unless he has previously received an intimation that other dress may be worn, and on all other occasions when other members of the corps appear in uniform. The “court dress” worn by Ameri- can ambassadors to Great Britain is authorized by a State Department regulation in recognition of the fact that it is required at London as it formetly_was required at many ather European posts, and is not a “uni- form.” Even diplomats wearing dip- lomatic . uniform appear in. knee breeches at balls, receptions and other court soctal functions. where ‘| the queen is present, and at dinners or other entertainments attended by members of the royal family. On such oceasions court dress is indis- pensable, both for ladies and gentle- men, or full ‘uniform for officers of the army and navy. Precedence and Ms no trifing matter, but part and | parcel of the law of England. sub- | ! sisting under the authority of acts of | parliament, decrees in courts of jus tice, or public instructions proceed- | |ing from the crown. The earliest | statute on the subject of precedence | is the thirty-first orf Henry VIIL * % % [PPASSIONED patricts who consider that Ambassador Harvey bertayed the high traditions of his country by appearing at Princess Mary's wed |aing and on other occasions in knee | breeches will be even more greatly | shocked over the fact that the cos- tume worn at court at the present ¢ Americans and British sub- other than those in the military and naval service, was de- vised by Mr. Buchanan, American minister at London in 1853 Mr. Buchanan, however, included a sword and cocked hat. Frock dress, worn by members of the American embassy at courts, | state balls and evening and state par- ties, dinners and receptions now con- sists of black evening dress coat, lapelled black or white evening dress vest, breeches of plain black evening dress material, with three small black cioth or silk buttons and small jet or black buckles at the knees: black silk hose, plain court shoes with bows, no buckles: white evening dress bow tie ana white gloves and an opera hat. Evening dress with trousers is worn at levees at which the King receives and the queen is not present. Gentlemen not of the diplomatic corps, army or navy wear coats and knee breeches of black silk velvet, the former , singlé-breasted with standing collar and the latter with three small steel buttons and steel buckles at the knees; white satin or black silk velvet waistcoat, black silk hose and black patent leather shoes with steel buckles; a black beaver or silk cockea hat with a steel loop on a black silk cockade or rosette; a sword with steel hilt, black scabbard and steel mounting, and a sword belt of black silk web worn under the waistcoat with black velvet frog for the sword; white bow necktie and white gloves. At levees trousers of black silk velvet may be worn. The only departure from the re- quired court dress at an evening func- tion in London was on the occasion of the dinner given for Presidet Wilson when he was a guest at Buckingham Palace. Mr. - Wilson had mo knee breeches in his outfit, and in courtesy to him the king, for the first time in his life, appeared at a state dinner in evening dress, all the gentlemen, other than officers of the army and navy, invited for the occasion, which brought together one of the most dis tinguished companies ever enter- tained at the British court, having been instructed to do likewise. * ¥ X % THERE was a time when American diplomats had their own uniform and prescribed court dress, but it was no such modest and upassumifig cos- tume as the one worn today at Lon- don. The following “memorandum of | the aress of an American minister, as fixed by the mission to Ghent,” is Gontained 1A a State Department cir- cular, dated Novetnber 6, 1817: “A blue coat, lined with white silk; stralght-standing. cape, embroidered with gold, single-breasted, straight or round -buttonholes slightly em- broidered; buttons plain, qr, if they can be had, with the artillerists’ eagle said he, “how could I find you again?|ceremonial at the court of St. James | stamped -upon them, 1. e) an eagle | ner e ; [ mbassador Harvey Wore Knee Breeches fiving with a wreath in its mouth grasping lightning in one of its talons; cuffs embroidered in the man- of the cape: white breeches: gold knee buckles; white silk stockings and gold or gilt shoe buckles; a three-cornered chapeau yras, not so large as those used by he French nor so small as those of the English: a black cockade, to which lately an eagle has been at- tached; sword. etc., corresponding. “The secretaries have the same cos- tume, with the exception that their coats have less embroidery than that of the minister. “It is usual at all European courts on what are called gala days, such as birthdays of the sovereign, marriages of princes of his family and other extraordinary occasions, for the for- n ministers, as well as other per- ons of distinction connected with the court, to appear in uniforms more splendid with embroidery than upon occasions of ordinary levees, draw- ing rooms and diplomatic circles. A decent respect for the usages of the courts and a suitable compliance with forms there established make it proper that the minister of the United States should adopt this cus- tom and wear on those occasions a coat similar to that above described, but embroidered round the skirts and down the breasts, as well as at the cuffs and cape, all the other parts of the dress remaining the same. The coats to be distinguished as the great and fhe small uniform. There should be a white ostrich feather or plumet in the minister's hat, not standing erect, but sewed round the brim.” John Quincy Adams in 1823, re- ferring to the engraved design then used on the uniform worn by minis- ters of the United States at foreign courts on occasions when full dress was required, commented that “this uniform was adopted for the con- venience of using the same dress upon all necessary occasions and at every court. “The use of it,” he added, /is in no case prescribed by this government, and every minister of the United States abroad may wear at his dis- cretion any dress conformable to the customs of the place where he may reside.” : Within the next few years the American dress was toned down con- siderably, Mr. Van Buren, Secretary of State in 1829, in a circular to the diplomatic agents of the United States, instructing them that “from a suitable respect to what is under- stood to be the usage at the several courts of Europe,” President kson suggested as thé dress to be used by our ministers and other diplomatic agents upon established occasions: ‘A _black coat with a gold star on each side of the collar ‘near its termi- nation; the under clothes to be black, blue or white, at the option of the wearer; a three-corgered chapeau de bras; a black cockade and eagle, and a steel-mounted gsword with a white scabbard.” In 1853 Secretary of State Marcy sent a circular instruction to each member of the Amerfcan diplomatic service, stating that “the department would encourage, as far practica- ble without impairing his usefulness to his country, Fis appearance -at court in the simple dress of an American citizen. Should- there be cases where this cannot be done, ow- ing to the character of the foreign government, without detriment to the pyblic interest, the nearest approach to it compatible with the due per- cassimere | |formance of his duties is earnestly | recommended.” That instruction opened a Pandora’s box of trouble for the American | diplomats. * k %k X [T TP to that time the American min- tsters had conformed t8 custom at each court, including Franklin, who had worn “Quaker full dress, being court dress in the times of Charles IL" at the French court, ex- cept on one occasion, when, not ow- ing to any love of simplicity on his | part. but to his having no clothes in { which he considered it fit to appear. he was requested, his presence being much desired, to come in whatever he happened to-be wearing at the moment. In London Buchanan was informed by Sir Edward Cust, master of cere- monies, that while her majesty would receive Mr. Buchanan at court in any dress he chose to put on, he did not doubt that it would be disagreeable to her if he did nét conform to the established usage, and that he, of course, could not expect to be invited to court balls or to court dinners where all appeared in costume. Mr. Buchanan then decided to wear neither gold lace nor embroidery, but a modified court dress. Before he had devised one, however. parliament was opened by the queen in person, every member of .the diplomatic corps re- ceiving a printed ciréular containing the sentence: “No one can be ad- mitted into the diplomatic tribune or in the body of the house but in full court dress” Buchanan did not at- tend the ceremony, and his absencé became the subject of outcry in the London prees, and was with difficulty prevented from becoming the subject | of inquiry ;and remark in the house of commons.’ The question was finally settled to Buchanan’s entire satisfaction, and ho reported to Marcy on February 24, 1854: “I appeared at the - queen's levee on Wednesday last in the very dress which you have often seen me | wear at the President’s levees, with the exception of a very plain black- handled and black-hilted dress sword, and my reception was all that I could have desired.” He had first thought, he added, of United States buttons, “but a plain dress sword has a more manly and less gaudy appearance. As Tthe ‘simple dress of an American citi- hat over bobbed red hair, he cut in and danced with her, but only to be disap- pointed. Always it was the wrong tue. He questioned her_about the other,’ but could get.no satisfaction. Yoeadoirh When, midnight, the dancers “un-' masked he hastened about the ball- room and the adjacent apartment, look- ing for the Columbines, but now he could find neither of them. Nor could he find his wife, nor yet. the- white- wigged lady of the French court whom he had identified with her. Where could Eleanor be? She ought 10 be in the ballroom. That was where a well-behaved married woman belonged at a party such as this. It wasn't wise for a pretty woman to go wandering about outside, in the moonlight, with a strange man, masked. Since prohibi- tion there had been a lot of drinking. and fancy dress made people reckless, anyway. Temporarily he forgot the Col- umbine in his concern about his wife's behavior, as he looked for her upon the terrace and the lawn. Failing to find her, he returned to the club and telephoned home. “Hello?” He was surprised to hear Eleanor's voice upon the wire. “I've been hunting for you all over the place,” he said, “what took you home 80 early?” “Oh, I get enough of 1t!" “Didn’t you have a good time?" “I had an exceptionally gool time," she assured him. “But 1 don’t understand why you went home, then?" “Fancy dresg makes people do all sorts of things,” she said, and before he could comment upon the cryptical character of - the remark she asked: “Have you been enjoying yourself?" “Oh, T've had worse times,” said he. And, thinking to have one final look for his lost Columbine, he added: “T guess I'll hang around for a while if you don't mind." “No, I don’t mind at all. Goodnight, and she hung up the receiver. * % ¥ % \\JELL. dear” sald Archibald Welkins, next morning. as his wife, looking very lovely in a shell-pink house gown. poured the coffee. “it was a pretty good party, wasn't it?" And as she nodded, he went on in an ex- pansive ton#: “Made it rather amusing, after all—husbands and wives not know- ing_®ach other's costume—don't you think so?" “Yes, very amusing,” she said. “I was quite sure I recognized you." he told her. deal » “Oh, were you?" She looked u; quickly. “Yes; fn a French court costume with a high-powdered wig."” ‘When she smiled.-and shook he hesdd.he was surprised. “That wasn't you—honestly?" “No, honestly.” - “What was your costume, then.” *I went a Columbine, and addressing the mai ‘Welkins the strawberry jam. In silence he helped himself spreal jam upon a plece of toast, ate it, an drank his coffee. Then: “There were two Columbinel dressed exactly alike.” he ventured. “Yes." shid _leanor his is thy last of that new bacon. Have yor made up your mind vet how you lik¢ e “Oh. it's very good.” he answerel abstractedly. “But the Columbines ! saw had red hair"™ ‘Wigs.” she returned succinctly. “Wigs?' he repeated. surprised “They didn’t look like wigs." “Men aren't very quick at detecting such things.” £aid”she. Then, to his infinite surprise, she added: ‘Do voj Temember that nice French officer : liked so much three vears ago?" “Why, yes." “Well, he wore a toupee.” “He did? How do you kfiow?" “I noticed it the first time I saw him. i 'm,” he said, and sat reflective for a time. Then: “Look here, dear.” he went on. “Let's never speak of that French officer again. It was long ago. and anyway it yeally didnt amount to anything.” 1f he expected recognition of thiy magnanimity he was dizappointed, for she did not spegk’ “Who was the other Columbine?’ he asked in a casual tone as he was about to rige, from table. “Evidently- somé éne who went tg the same costumer I did.” his wife replied. e 3 “But—" , He".¢hecked himself; then with some fegling,.'added: ‘1 don’t think they. oight to send out duplicate costumes for the same party, do youy' o But she failed:to repiy. Often in ‘the eight years of their married lifezhe had been disturbed by her trait of remaining silent whey she disagreed with him. He had never known a woman with Eleanor's c pacity for sllence. It gave her a mys- terious power. . (Copyright. 1922. All rights reserved.) WEDDING BELLS,C.O.D. (Continued from Second Page.) with Tolin ‘and Brown's names and your writing on it” He produced the paper from an in- side pocket. Edwards wilted completely. and Tolin shrugged their shoulders in abject disgust and walked slowly away. O'Brien approached Edwards as latter shrank in his shoes. There was no menace or any inkling of hard feeling in O'Brien’s manner. but Eqwards felt something coming. He haif closed his eyes and uncon- sclously stiffened and braced himself {n the manner-of a‘cowa#d expecting a punch on the jaw. £ “Well., Eddie"—O'Brien -was mild- ness personified. though there was a small note of ralllery in his voice— “we learned something. today, didn't Brown the we?" “Wha—what do you mean?” queried Edwards. “We learned”” said O'Brien, a twinkle coming into his eves, “that it pays #6 play even a crooked game straight.” “What you talkin’ about?" “I'm talking apout you boys telling Tolin to go ahead and double-cross me that first heat.” “We—where do you get that stuff?" Edwards attempted a bluff, bluster- ing manner, but caved in under it when O'Brien quietly replied: “I get it from the same place where you got all the money you were bet- ting. As far as you are concerned, that place seems to be headquarters.” “Damn that fool girl!" Edwards swore under his breath. “Wait a minute—none of that" O'Brien said sharply. “I'm sorta crazy about that girl, and we won't have any talk.. I'm just telling you this—you've got to dig up some money somewhere and buy back your dirty shop from her—and quick, too! She may be leaving town in a few days and she ought to have her “Oh, that's it. is it?" asked Ed- wards sarcastically. “Never mind -what it is. You get busy. And listen—if I were you, I'd never say anything about this race. The judges would bar half a dozen men for less than.the notes on this bill of lading. Good-bye, Eddie!" O'Brien offered.his hand. but the crestfallen. barber-sportsman, shud- dering, turned away, swearing as he went. * ok ok X '‘BRIEN found his Irish girl after a long search standing listlessly in front of Willie the Fat Boy's i2at. “Looking for .another fat guy’ asked the sheriff, nervously attempt- ing a smile. The resolution befcre which Edwards had quailed melted under her hot, indignant eyes. “If 1 find one, you can bet he won't zen’ is exactly that of the upper court servants, it was my purpose from the would distinguish me from them.” successor: evening clothes, with white neck- cloth, sword and cocked hat, and at drawing rooms or other full-dress oc- casions with breeches and buckles.” At Paris, Vienna and Madrid the American ministers were having sim- ilar experiences. J. M. Daniel, writ- ing from Turin in December, 1854, re- ferred to the “endléss tail of the diplomatic coat,” and reported that on being formally requested to call at the foreign office he found that !they had interrogated their ministers at all the courts as to the dress worn by American diplomats, “finding that Mr. Buchanan wore his tights and sword, that Mr. Jackson at Vienna dressed like a militia colonel, and that Mr. Vroom at Berlin was wearing court dress, the King of Prussia hav- ing made it known that he would not consider an appearance before him lwlr.hout costume respectful.” - be shanty Irish!” she retorted. “Now,” now, listen,” O'Brien beginning to wear something which | stumbled. “You thought I was in on_their In 1858 the following dress was garhe trying to ‘ dolble-cross you, agreed to with Mr. Dallas, Buchanan's (didn't you? “At levees a sult of black | flingin’ myself at yo After I'd fair been ike the shame- creature I am!": ‘Now, now!"” . ‘Well, now what?" she’ demanded. “Now I've got sens: and the sheriff found his grin. “Will you let me tell you how worked up I was over this race, and you and the money and the gang.of pirates led by our Mr. Edwards?: Will ‘you now? And how sorry 1 am for bein’ so blind I misunderstood you?" “I might listen.” She relented somewhat. “But I'm not sayin’ how much I'll believe.” “Believe it or not.” O'Brien smiled broadly as he took her arm and they started off down the midway. The rest of his remarks were lost, along with them, in the thick Canton crowd. When next dis- covered they were standing in the thronged art hall watching a country bumpkin and his blushing bride sweat let and stammer through a public wed. ding ceremony.” “That,” s=ald O'Brien masterfully, “would be a fine thing for you and me, Bess." ¥ She blushed tremendously. “This is so sudden—I mean"—and it was her turn to stammer—"this iy so public, Bill (Copyright. 1 Platinum and Diamonds. I T is asreed that the diamond is not only displayed more advantage- ously in a platinum than in a gold mounting. but also is more secure it set in the first mentioned of these two most precious of the metals. As to the chances of loss being reduced to a minimum by platinum it has been found from a chain of alternating links of gold and plati- num that a few years sufficed to wear the gold links through. while thy platinum links to all appearances re- mained as perfect as when first re- ceived. As to display the experts hold that the peculiar propertiss of platinum are eminently adapted to bring out the snap and fire that are the life of the diamond. These should not be counteracted or hindered in any ‘way. they say, and that it is the best migunting, therefore. which aids them and thus guarantees their best effects Platinum, moreover. is a non-tar- nishing metal. It is not affected by atmospheric conditions and holds ita whiteness for all time. Not even high-quality gold, of course, is non- tarnishable. The platinum-mounted gems are ever ready for the wearer, requiring little if any special clean- ing month in and month out, whils gold takes-on a sorry. looking colo after being.worm only a short time. A study of the light refractinz qualities of the diamond shows that the color of the mounting at the girdle of the stone, where metal and gem come in contact, determines very appreciably what the prevailing hue of the diamond will be. The white of the platinum contact stimulates the native brilliance of the. diamond, the yellow of the gold tinges it with its own hue and dulls it. Moreover, S0 the argument continues, the white of the platinum helps to soften when it does not overcome the yellowness of an inferior dlamond while the yel- lowness of gold serves to intensify the inferior diamond’s poor. shading. Platinum, of course, would. not be more expensive thun ‘goid if it aid not have superior qualities, and suit- ability for diamond mountings is one of them, just as gold is not so much more expensive than silver without very good reasons and so on. down the long line: to the base metals. But the setting need not be all platinum. There is what is called the platinum-tipped setting which re- duces the cost of pfatinum setting considerably without sacrifice of any of the advantages.. This result is produced by buckling and soldering a plecé of platinum on the ends of the prongs in such a way as to in- sure permanency of the platinum, as well as give the stone the proper color influence where most nesded, namely, at the girdle or point.ot contact. \ / Growth of Mahogany. THE observations of the conserva- tor of forests for southern NI- geria, held to be an eminent author- ity in the matter, indicate that tha mahogany tree grows much more rapidly than the number of sq-called annual rings suggests. He thinka that’ they show three or four well, marked zones of growth each year, corresponding to the four seasons. Both forest trees and those grown in the - botanical garden exhibit the same phenomenon. On the site of the Al rights reserred ) town of Ijaye, destroyed sixty years; { ago, a forest has grown up contain. f ing mahogany trees.with trunks ex- ceeding ten feet in girth. )