Evening Star Newspaper, December 17, 1922, Page 78

U Al 'HE S UNDAY STAR, WASHING ~ : \ o ‘ 'ON, D. C, DECEMBER 17, 1922—PAR! 4. Sir Galahad Goes Valiantly in Search of the Holy Grail Which He Calls the Truth UNIOR MASON was twelve. The emotion over the moon swinging out statement is significant. There | from behind a swirl of silver clouds. were a dozen or more boys in |NOT messy scraps of thrills because a LAST NIGHT - interrupted. the crowd, but the ringleaders were Runt Perkins, Shorty Marston | and Junior Mason, and the greatest ©f these was Junior. At home mother ruled him with a firm hand, heart. It is a fine old combination. The girls ‘made strenuous efforts to assist in his upbringing. but their gratuitous services were not kindly looked upon by the young man. For arithmetic Junior showed such an apitude that father was wont to say encouragingl, You'll be work- ing In the bank one of these days, son.”” At which “son" would glow with a legitimate pride that quickly faded before the sight of a certain dull red book entitled, “Working Les- | Kath- an sons in English Grammar.” erine labored patiently many evening to assist in bringing Junior and the contents of this particular volume somewhere within hailing distance of each other. Of the three girls, Eleanor was his hest friend. Rather boyish she was not so far removed from the glamour of 1 games in the back pasture, the trapping of gophers and circuses in the barn but that the two | held many things In common. Tt was Marcia who enemy. Not that she committ merious offenses. It was tude that exasperated h She had A trick of perpetrating a lazy little amile on his every act—a smile that was of a surpassine superiority. And she had a way of always jumping at the conclusion that he was dirty. “Go wash your hands!” was her sis- terly greeting whenever he approach- ed. She used it as consistently to- ward him as she used “How do you d0?" to other people. Junior would jump into heated argument over his perfect cleanliness, a disc consumed bath would have taken. 1 any her atti- Junior's other enemy was Isabelle, Thompson. The Thompsons were the Masons' nearest neighbors. the two vards being separated by a low hedge. The family and Mrs. Tobias Thompson daughters—Blanche. who was a little older than Eleanor Mason. and Isa- belle, aged eleven Mrs. Thompson was a little thin woman, who reveled in the reputation of being the neatest hous Springtown. Her neatness extended to the other members of her house- hold. Tobias was proprietor of a combined grocery and meat market; and no pig, dizzily hanging head downward from its peg in the back room, looked more pink or slick than he. t certainly is nice to think our t comes from such a clean place.” mother often said. “Yes,” the frank Marcia agreed. “if You don’t mind a little thing like un- derweight. “Believe me.” Eleanor added. “To- blas would pinck a weenie in two if he dared:” \lus THOMPSON'S mind - neat as the rest of her. was a prim. tidy pl metrical shelves on which were stored a few meager but immaculate items, such as cleanliness being next to godliness and danct the devil. Yes, everything in her mind and heart was small and neat and necessary. Those organs were was 1t, as ce but an understanding herself, | was his arch | jon that | more time than an entire ! consisted of Mr. ! and two | keeper in | too, | with sym- | cing a device of | thrush was singing in a rain-drench- 1ed lilac bush at twilight. Mother's ! was the soul of a poet: Mrs. Thomp- | son’s the soul of a polyp. | She was one of the few people who riled mother through and through.| | She would say, “I won't quarrel with any of my neighbors,” as though the others ran around king trouble. | Oh, “I've always said honesty was the best polic s though she had ‘in- | vented honesty The Masons, among themselves, alwaye spoke of the elder Thompson | daughter as “Blonche.”. in -imitation of the board and stilted pronuncia- ! ! tion her mother used. g As a consequence of their mother's | narrow attitude. the two- Thompson girls were self-consciously engrossed in their own attainments. Their mother believed that hey-daughters. | like the king. could do no wrong—a view that was thoroughiy shared by the girls themselves. They:were per- fect in their manners. immaculate as in their to their persons, wless conduct. But. lacking a sense of hu- mor ‘which would otherwise have been their redeeming quality, they were excellent specimens of that despicable cregture—a prig. The fun-loving Mason girls spoke always of “Blonche” as “the perfect one. Boys of Junior's age live on th border between childhood and adol cence. They are such a queer mix-, ture of youth and childhood that one | hour, with developing mind, they seem to be reaching out into the future %o ‘wrestle with man-sized problems, while the next hour. with no consclous understanding of the, | change, they abandon thht mood to drop back into the trifling plays of ! babyhood. This was an hour. .this particular warm summer evening. when Junior had slipped back into babyhood. He had pried off a loose slat in the trelliswork under the back porch and with much grunting and wiggling. had managed to crawl through. Scrouging under the porch, he look- ed around in the semi-darkness. lighted on an old, battered, tin street car, a relic of younger day He succeeded in pulling off one of the tin wheels. There was a hole in the center of the wheel left by the with- drawing of the hub. He held it to his mouth and blew. It gave forth a weird, plaintive sound like the m ng of a cat. Immediately Junior feit himself taking on the characteristics |of a cat. Fur seemed, in some mi- | raculous way. to spring out on his | body. With the erstwhile street-car, wheel between his teeth and emit- ting continuous purring sounds he pad-padded out from under the porch. With that capacity for sinking him- he 1dy squeak- g rope curled and berib- | | Junior could hes ueak of the uid be elle, Isa W self in an imaginary character, | boned. daintily holding her big doil, felt in his heart all the sly. treach- | jikewise curled and beribboned. Just | erous attributes of a cat. Nay, more. | wpat there is in the contemplation | he was a cat. (of an immaculately clean, piously | Out on the lawn, he crawled)good little girl to rouse the ire of | through the grass of the side yvard niesoned s oael !to the hedge, stopped to rub a Pair|ith the mysts of the sphinx. Junior. at thought of Isabelle sitting | piacidly in the hammock, was seized | with an uncontrollable desire to| laid the street-car wheel aside to 1ap | gtartle her out of that state of calm- | a presumably clean tongue oYer apess into one of sudden agitation. | slightly soiled pa®. Then, with half-| S0 he erept through an opentng in | human, half-feline 'promptings. he|the hedge into the Thompsen yard, cogitated plans for the rest of the pausing, with an imaginary distended | evening. tail. to crouch ring at a robin | in the grass. Failing to capture his pry he crawled noiselessly toward | i ced his forepaws on the | of invisible whiskers against a weed, nibbled daintily at a stalk of catnip, and, settling back on his haunches. the hedge at the l. CROS son home Thomp- not all cluttered up with a lot of some one was sitting ework, 1, emitting low | unessential rubbish lixe Mother Ma- in the hammock behind the vine- ining purr, peered through the | son's. There were no tag ends of covered latticework of the porch. vine Mr. Dooley on Cross-Examinations R. DOOLEY put down his newspaper with the remark: “They cudden’t get me into court as a witness; no, sir, not if 't was to hang me best friend. “'Tis hard enough,” he said, “with newspapers an’' census officers an’ th’ mim'ry iv taxi dhrivers to live down | ve'er past without bein' foorced to dhrill it in a r-red coat an’ with a brass band ahead befura th' eves iv | the multitood. I did it wanst; I'll do it no more. to appear in th’ high temple Iv justice where Timothy Duffy is th' presidin’ janius, as Hogan says, priceless tistymony as to whether th’ plumbin’ in Harrigan's house was fit- | ted to hold wather. “'Twas me opinyon, havin’ had a handful of thrumps 1 held in Harri gan's parlor spiled by Lake Michigan | dhroppin’ through th’ ceilin’, that said plumbin’ was conthrary to th' laws an’ ordinances of th' county iv Cook, | State fv Tllinois, S. S. made an’ pro- vided, an’ the same day I put on a high hat an’ a long-tailed coat, an’ left a | man in charge iv me business, an’ wint down to Halstead street, an’ swore to, as solemnly as I cud, know- In’ that Harrigan wudden't pay th’ rent annyhow. “An' what come iv it? T minyits givin me tistvmony an’ two hours thryin’ to convince th' hon rable coort—a loafer be th' name Duffy—an’ th' able jury that I hadn't stolen th’' shirt on me back frm a laundhry wagon. “Th’ coort was goin' {0 conflne me in jail fr life f'r contimpt, th' lawyer f'r th' definse sthrongly intimated that I was in th' neighborhood whin ! E'well was murdered, an’ th' jury ast to be allowed to bring in a verdict iv manslaughter again me without extra pay. As I wint out iv th’ coort two or three women in large hats hissed me an’ a man at th’ dure threatened me with an umbrelly ontill I made 2 counther dimonsthration with me foot. R 66 JUSTICE, says ye? I tell ye Ho- gan’s r-right whin he says: '{ul- tice is blind.’ Blind she is, an’ deefl an’ dumb an’ has a wooden leg! Niver again wi@ they dhraw me to a court. T'll take T2’ rude justice iv a piece iv, Jead pipe without costs or th' r-right} iv appeal. “Here in th’ pa-aper they'se a piece about a la-ad that had throuble with bis vallay—" “What's & vallay?’ Mr. Hennessey “A vallay,” Mr. Dooley explaine “is & retired English gintleman hired by millylonaires who ar're goin’ into bankruptcy to wear their clothes. Naked a millylonaire comes into th’ wurruld an’ naked bis vallay laves) him. Th' vallay's a kind iv a cham- bermaid that sees that th' millyion- Wanst T was summonsed | to give me | two | " | make out what all iv his jootles Is. est Americans who have always but- By FINLEY PETER DUNNE | | [ | | | “ANSWER YES OR i | alre doesn’t go to wurruk In his night | dollars f'r curry-combin’ me? TII| | shirt an’ r-reads his letters. 1 can’t|lave it to an intillygint jury iv hon- | | He ‘rubs th’ millyionaire's head an’|toned their own shirts, an’ r-right | obsarves his love affaivr, an’' afther | will conker an’ I'll keep me money. | a while laves him an’ goes to wurruk | SN |tr a society pa-aper. 'Tis an ol | !sayin’ v Hogan's that no mam is a | hero to his vallay. That's thrue. Th' vallay's th’ hero. { “Well, this millylonaire I've been HAT'S where he was wrong. He had th' same experyence I had, | except mine was a case iv plumbin’, |an’ his wan iv personal decoration. {r-readin’ about, he had a vallay, an’ | Afther he explained to th’ jury that the vallay lost his eye wondherin’ | he didn’t owe Lord Roland annything, who th' lady was, an’ thin he dipped | because his lordship got a dhroopin’ too sthrong into th’ Floridy whther | eye fr'm dhrink an’ frequently give fau' th’ millylonaire bounced him. He | pim th' same colar ivry week, he was {fired him out. ‘Lord Roland,’ he Says. | tyr-rned over to th' attorney f'r the | 8o he says. ‘We've lived too long| progecution. who cross-examined him. together,” he says. ‘People can'ttell "i..ywo wijil pass over th' question iv us apart, we stagger so much allke,’| financial relations with me he says. ‘I'm gettin’ so used to ve ye'er it | i betther thin they ought to be or not 1t was not Isabelle. Tt was Blanche In the hammock With her Frank Marston, his arm casualiy thrown e ee0as thelhack of the barmmouk, his|Sons Wsidefiteroace, fiwaliced Sinon - ace in close proximity to hers, chalant across the street and The cat 4id mot purr again, Open- |around the next block. On the wa moutheds hatook inlthe ittla scene | he told [the Joice ito jthree ipeopless batore him) which|speatacie inclugea | uBt Ferkuis dnd Hod .Beeson, avho the Dlacing of 5 hasty, bails delivered coal. and Lizzie Beadle, the Bleachos chech’ [mhen the town dressmaker. The reason he told man and lady both giggled rather no one else was the very le one feolishly. They were very young. jthat those were all the people he Once azain in the annals of history | ™¢% haai curiosityiitiledi/alicat, | Tdrijall| « Reaching home by thishcirentions feline characteristics Immediately | FOUte. he burst in upon the famlly, with the tale. “With my own eves I seen 'em,” he ed breathlessly. v them,” corrected left the onlooker and he became a | twelve-year-old masculine biped. i He slipped noiselessly away, wait- ing until he turned the corner of the Thompson house before he allowed ' the pent-up laughter within him to trickle forth. It was too rich' for words that he had witnessed it. Wouldn't every one laugh when he told them! * He ran down the Thomp- finish Katherine didact ally Junior repeated 1t e was with s manner of speaking. mother e immediately concerned with the moral aspect of his spying, but Mar- concerned Junic nev “What do you know about It was Marcia. “Blonche, the fair: Blonche, the lovalle Blonche, the lily maid of Astolot!” “Mrs. Thompsen would and fall in it ° Katherine, too. was growing inter- ested. { I wonder if Frank 1 want v know tha sy s want ye to know that ivrybody isgorypheq and sterilized,” in this case. We play no fav'Tites Whin th’ clear sunlight iv American justice is tur-rned loose on a matther | (&0 iv_this charackter nawthin' can be | youne filks are ‘most all fools” hid. Go on an’ tell us about ye're wife. | o mit oo Ao : { was Tillie’s affable contribution. At Th' coort wishes to know. Th' COOTt|yhich Marcia and Eleanor wrung is human' says he. ‘Isn’t it thrue’| peir hands and pretended to weep. says th' lawyer, ‘that ye're spouse i8] junjor:” It was mother who spoke have a fit was all leanor put n. “Girls! Girls!” mother remon- [ pettish an’ disagrecable be nature an | weverely. “You probably meant no that th' colors fv her hair ar-re not parm but let this be a lesson to you fast, an’ that Lord Roland frequently | ahout sneaking up on any one pecked through th dure an’ seen ¥e | promise me yowll never tell a soul” talking to her? Answer me. ve fiend | I promise, Junior sAid glibl in human form, don’t that lovely golden sheen upon her locks come out in th’ wash? But even as he spoke he cast a guilt thought at the gossip he had left b hind him like a long »f a Chinese “*T%ll me, monsther, tell th’ hon'- |Kite. rable coort that's now leanin’ eagerly | over th’ bar to catch ivry pint, tell the - R jury that wud like to carry home S0me pp{[z pext night the Mason family s'clety chit-chat to their own tired wives, tell this Intelligint concoorse iv American citizens, tell me, ruffylan, is hivin or peroxide iv hydhrogen th' author iv th' splendor? Is her com- plexion her own or {r'm day to day? Did ve iver see her befure ye were had just finished supper. Chairs | were pushed back. Tillie had begu {to pick up the dishes. Father was |opening the evening paper. The | white ruffled curtains swayed in and out. The girvls were humming | concert “Somewhere a Voice Is Call- marrid, an if so with whom? {ing.” It was as peaceful a scene as “‘An’ about th’ other women Lord|the Acadian village of Grand Pre. Roland saw ye with? Were they no | Just then the voice called, but | was neither tender nor true. in clicking. indignant tones from M Thompson at the dining room door. tell us who they ar-re. Give us their She came in like a hawk in a chicken names. Dhrag th’ wreched crathers yard. In angry tones she told them fr'm tkeir hidin' places in th’ vowdy- | that Blonche had just heard what ville theautres an’ lave thim to sthand Junior had been telling around town in (0’ clear sunlight iv American jus- |about her; in it as good as they might have been? I° can’t recall their names but ye might tice.” he says, ‘and be smirched’ he|word of truth in it and that she says. ,wamell something done about jt. On * k¥ {and on she went, delivering vindictive verbal upperctts to Junior, making a self-righteous speech on the excel- |lent quality of her girls’ upbringing. 4nd finished with: - “Neither one of G HERE was scarcely a dry eve in th’ coort whin th’ larned coun- sel concluded. Th' ladies in th' aud-! jeence applauded furyously as name afther name was brought forward.|my girls would allow a thing like Th' judge sald that he had th' time IV | that.” his life, an' th' jry afther securin’; For one brief. fleeting moment clippin’s, iv th' prisoner’s wife's hair | mother had an unholy desire to re- rayturned a verdict finding’ Mrs. Hatd | tort: “Oh, of course, I've taught my Gold guilty iv peroxide in th’ first de- | girls to spoon.” % gree, without extenuatin’ circum-; During the onslaught the members stances, an’ added a rider recom- | of the family had remaihed rooted to {boy would have done—what George | Washington might have déne had | there bebn twelve feminine eyes gaz- WHEN YOU KISSED BLANCHE THOMPSON lShorty all sat at the table, clothed in their best suits and manners. | Junior, standing humbly just in- ing at him in grief or anger or con- | side the dining room door, cap in cla and Eleanor thought only of the | that> | It came | that there was not one | that I have no fear Iv ve' he says.| ‘It was bad enough whin ve give me | blue suspinders with me r-red panta- | loons,’ he says, ‘but,’ he says, ‘whin I asked f'r an orange an’ ye brought in th' cocktail mixer, 1 felt that we cud no lgnger assocyate on terms iv akequality.” he says. ‘Ye'l ve to go back to th' house iv iords,' he says. An' he fired him out ar’ wudden't pay him a cint iv wages hel owed him f'r th' rest iv his life. So coort. “Th’ millyionaire thrips in thinkin’ to himsilf: ‘'Tis on’y a question iv whether I shall pay this jook what I promised him or what .he ought to ixpict frm a millyionaire. Do I or do 1 not owe Lord Roland eighty-two client,’ says th’ distinguished barris- ther, ‘an’ come down to ye'er own pri- vate life. To begin with, ar-re ye or ar're ye not a man iv th’ most disso- Jute morals? ‘Answer Ves or no,” says th’ coort. ‘He admits it,” says th' law- ver. ‘Ye were dhrunk in 19027 ‘T can't raymimber,’ says th’ millylon- aire. ‘Put it down that he's always) dhrunk,’ says th' ldwyer. “‘Where did ve get ye'er money? Ye don't know? Th' jury will take d, | Lord Roland sues him an’ has him in | note iv that fact that he prob'bly ‘| stole it. Ye're father is dead. Did ye kill' him? I think so. Now that ye | refuse to pav Lord Roland what's not comin’ to him, how about ye'er wife? “My wife isn't in this case’ says th’ prisoner.” . «+Tht divvie'she isn‘t,”says th’ coort. mendin’ th’ ladies Lord Roland seen with Hard Gold be tur-rned out iv their lodgin's. : “It was a gr-reat triumph for th’ r-right. It shows that th' coorts iv our fair land will put down with a stern hand th’ growin’ peroxide vice an’ that justice will find out evil doers—if it has to take th’ bandages off its eyes an’ hide in a clothes “It serves th’ man r-right f'r havin wan v thim vallays ar-round th' house,” said Mr. Hennessy. “Well, it shows that,” said Mr. Doo- ley. “An’ it shows th’ disadvantages 4v wealth. No wan cares to hear what Hogan calls ‘th' short an’ simple scandals tv th’ poor.’” = co (Copyright’ 1922.) eI their respective places like the king’s family during the curse on the sleeping beauty.” When she had finished the spell broke. Father was the first to stir. He stirred himself s0 thoroughly that he. slipped quietly out of the dining room' into the kitchen. He could have diplomat- ically refused a loan to the governor. He could have argued violently with the members of the state banking board. He might even have unflinch- ingly faced a masked bank robber. But he could not face his little angry neighbor. So it was mother who took the stage. She questioned Junior. The latter wanted nothing in the world so much as that the painful scene should end. So ke did what almost any-little cern. He lied. “I was just—" he mumbled, “just jokin'.” ! “You mean,” “that you made it up | Junior nodded his head., And his | guardian angel, In sorrow. probably ! made a long black mark in the book. | “Then” sald mother calmly. ! will go to every person you told and try to make right your v poor joke.” She assured Mrs. Thompson that they would do ail in their power 10 rectify matters and that Junior would apologize to BElanche. Mrs. Thompson was mollified. She i pered a little. “You know me, Mrs. 1 don't like neighborhood sther dryly. state of men- d her mantle tbout her aund Thompson, in tal satisfaction, wrapi of self-complacency left. “The sweetly when remarked d. A Tillie: door clos ol poleca the mother asked coldly, | “you| [band, felt that hert, before so ap- | preciative an audience, was oppor- tunity for the grand climax of his self-humiliation. So, in the’ polite tones of a well bred boy, he respect- fully apologized to Frank. It could not have been done with more defer- !ence or Chesterficldian grace. Junior had a swift desire that his sisters | might have witnessed it. A dull brick-red color surged over | Frank’s long, lean face. “What you | talkin® about, kid | Junior abandoned the rather ! formal, stilted tones of his speech {and dropped into his own familiar | boyish ones. He seemed deadly in | carnes know, Frank, last inight” when you kissed Blanche Thompson—you thought you heard a cat mew? Well, Frank, It wasn't a cat. It was me. I'm around to all | the neighbors apolugizin® for sayin' T | seen you."” ! Amid smiles from the guests, an | embarrassed laugh from his mother ou BY BESS STREETER ALDRICH (FPHE members of the family sirag- { L glea into Ly one. Junior ;was the last Sev- eral drops of water creeping linger- ' ingly down the side of his face pro- to breakfast one to arrive. ned incl had | claimed to all who were !be pessimistic that he washed. He sat down with great gusto, “Well, T hope old lady Thomgsor feels better now. ¥u, ! sure hove she does” he chuckled, spreading "eleven cents’ worth of butter on a | griddle cake purty escited, she | Blonchie, till 1 fix: about her 'n’ Frankis But dow't you feri what I said last night 1 seen " There was silence in the Masc {dining room. Fvery oue 1 ' Imother. Mother looked ' | father, sitting there in all his { cial capableness and his domestic in (ability. Father looked Iback. Motlier knew that she wa though Tiliie found plenty of fauitiand unrestrained shouts from ms]nm-l#d. as usual, to take the stecr with the Mason children herself, let | dearly loved brothers, Frank got up.| pacy hut she felt like a skipper ¢ some outsider do it and she was im- |Junior sensed the fact that he was! mediateiy on the warpath one was perturbed. “Who tell?” Katherine demanded, fact that she did not sa “whom” was proof positive that she was upset. “I happened to tell Lizzie Beadle.” Junior whimpered. Good night!” Eleanor threw up her hands. “You might just as well ery ldid you and the have put it on the front page of the Springtown Headli They ail ta i to him at once. Katherine gave a hurried resume the poem that concerns shooting ar- rows and words into the air. It was all very hard on his nerves. So he got his cap and started to the door. Strangely enough it was Marcia who followed him out onto the porch. There were tears in her eves. Care- less, tender-hearted Marcia had im- pulsively erred so often herself that she felt more sympathy for her little brother than any one else did. “Junie!” She threw an arm around his shoulder. “You're like a knight | of old. Why, Junie, you're Sir Gala- had. You're going on your white horse in search of the Holy Grail, only this time the Grail is Truth.” 1t pleased Junior's fanc His drooping head lifted a little. He ran down the steps, and by the time he had unhitched an invisible white charger with gold trappings, mounted him and started down the street he was quite impressed with the nobility of his journey. Sustained by the thought of the character he was impersonating, he opped at the Thompsons’ and mum- i bled a hasty apology to the red-eved Blanche. It was noticeable that neither the maker of the apology nor the recipient looked directly at the other. He went next to Hod Beerou's. It was rather trying to explain dis errand to him. Hod not knéWwing what Junior was talking about, as he had let the scandal go in one coal-grimed |ecar and out the other. Eventually Hod closed the rambling confession | with: Il right, sonny. That's all right.” - x k¥ ¥ Junior rode mext to the Beadles’ little weather-beaten housze and told fat, untidy Lizzie his message. Lizzie looked disappointed over the Inews. But she said: “You're some | kid, Junie, to take all that trouble {for a smartie like Blanche Thomp- |son. Have a cookie.” | Junior, further impressed with his pratseworthy eonduct, rode on to the | Perkinses, where he made known his errand to Runt and his mother. | “Now, look at that.” Mrs. Perkins { turned to her own offspring. “What a gentlemanly thing for Junior to | dot” | After this Junior hated to give up his holy mission. So he began tell- ing other people what,he was doing. He told several of the bovs of his crowd and Mrs. Haves and the Win- ters’ hirod girl. After that, with sudden inspiration it struck Junior that no one had men- tioned his apologizing to Frank. Surely that was an oversight on his mother's part. Did not one owe an apology to the Kisser just as much as to the kissee? So he rode up to the Marstons' colonial home, dismounted and went in. The Marstons were eating din- ner, as Springtown people do when {they have company from the city. There was a rich uncle there and his pretty daughter, to say nothing of a charming friend she had brought with her. Nicky and Frank and of | { to pass out with Frank also. Out in the hall Frank grabbed his caller's shoulddrs in a crablike pinch. | Words hissed through his clenched teeth. “I'd like to make you into mincemeat. You hike out of here and keep your mouth shut. Ja under- stand? Now, scoot! It was trying to Sir Galahad to have his high mission so misunder- stood. He started home a little wearily. The entire Mason family was ensconced on the front porch. They greeted him rather effusively. Every |one scemed in a softened mood to- ward him. The truth was, the brave way in which he had faced the results | of his ill-advised joke appealed to them all. s He sat down in the hammock by Katherine, who put her arm around him. | fortable, but he stood it. | threw him a smile and Eleanor gave | him a stick of gum. |latter. Smiles are fleeting, but gum, with proper hoarding, lasts a week. Mother spoke to him cheerfvlly Even Tillie neglected to look for dirt on his shoes. Father, his feet on the porch railing, gave a’long, ram- | bling speech about veracity—a sort of truth-crushed-to-earth-Abraham Lincoln menologue. The family went to bed with that lighthearted feeling which comes after a painful domestic crisis has been passed. It was apparent to all that Junior, in spite of the poor taste of his joke, had vindicated himself. And the evening and the morning were the third day. 1t made him hot and uncom- | Marcia | He preferred the | an uncharted & A son of hel - had spied upon 1 | neighbors. gossiped and tuen i about the truth. Was the falsehoo! of last evening a double-dyved sh Or was it the spirit of knighth that gallant thing that has {handed down throush the ages— | traditional honor with which a = tleman pre a Iy's na | Mother gave it up. ¥ | her, she did not know | Junior, ‘conscious of the impr silence, decided that he was makin {a hit. And as it was n give {to him to crea that ki f stir § | this particular eircie, waxe visibly in pleased nee ar genlally reiterated ' ! what 1 said, pipe—I seen u can put e, | “Saw them.” corrected Katheri mechanically “Saw ‘em.” repeated Junior, a from force of habit. and azain a inant silence descended upo breakfast tab It was broken by ther. T | sembled Masons looked at hin pectantly a he cleared his preliminary to speech. It perate situation that could father to grip the domestic ~ior wheel. In mother's expression rlic ruggled with anxiety what he was going going to thrash Junior. =l h. |opened her lips as father another preliminary cough spoke. | “Looks a little like rain h¢ | “Hope we don’t have a w¢ fore the hayin ave (Copyright. All Rights Res ‘WITH X-RAY EYES. (Continued from First Page.) ! wealthy callers Schermann makes a charge; te those without means he free if he discerns any merit in thei cases. | * % Xk X S day I called at his apartment and asked kim to explain his gift of second sight. “I have no explanation,” he said. { “All T know is that my gift was born with me. was irresistibly interested in any | thing written. 1 picked up throw. laway envelopes and scarched scrap- | baskets for letters. 1 found a pecu- |liar pleasure in gazing at these | things even before I could read and jwrite. 1 locked at a written ¢ {ter as a kind of mysterious image. | When I was nine years old some one put a slip of paper in my pocket on | Shich was written: “Teacher is an a |1 studied the writing and I decided which of the boys wrote it. When I approached him he was so perplexed | that he admitted it. “Later on, to my great astonish- ment, I discovered that when I looked at a =sample of writing, any writing, 1 could see its author—not only his face and fizure, but his whole life, his background, his Gestiny. 1 could not describe just exactly what form this sight took with me until I went to a motion picture theater for the first time. Then I had the term. I saw theelives of people whose hand- writing 1 studied in long reels of mental motion pictures, as it were. But it was not necessary fer me to see handwriting. If a person touches a piece of paper before I get it, it works the same way. The impor- tant thing is that this relation be- tween me and other people—a rela- |tion that 1 cannot understand any more than you—is transmitted by pa- ver. “When 1 touch a piece of paper like that L tell whether the person who touched it before me was in good or bad humor. 1 feel what he has been doing and what he is going to do next. “Don't ask me who gave power. 1 don't know. All 1 know is that I have it. You dnay sa it was bestowed on me by <od or by | some mysdterious cosmic force. But }there is something in me that keeps jon telling that I must utilize this gift | of mine for the public good.” Jt is a fascinating experience to talk to Schermann. It is also rather me my jabout your past—things which you have forgotten yourself and which are conjured up from oblivion by this I\Inique magician. Voices of the Ice. winter of the far north is not wholly silent, although so little life is manifest at that season. The | testimony offered by an American ex- plorer makes this fact very clear. | Al movements of the ice—the gradual crowding and pressing, bend- ing and pushing. the breaking of the masses of snow lying at the “ice foot"—do not proceed noiselessly, but are generally accompanied by certain ] rru E sounds which are called the “voices” of the fce. Now one hears a low singing, splashing or grumbling, aiternating with varlous other noises, cracking and snapping; now it sounds irregu- larly from a great distance, like a confusion of human voices, the chang- ing din of a train or a sledging party; or you fancy you can hear the steps and volces of all sorts of animals. There is, it is sald, a charm in lis- tening to these sounds on a etill night. & p extends the use of his marvelous gift | When I was still a baby 1| - | useful life for lu Substitute for Radium. ~HE increasing demand for r L tor medical work. but more ticularly for luminous paint the question of possible radium | stitutes of considerable importan: |An excellent substitute for certa | purposes is mesothorium. This is radio-active element found in monuz hasm il | ite sand and other thorium minecrs When first extra it is not in satisfactory condition for lumi paint, but must be allowed to * |for several months or even before it can be used, during whic | time the alpha radiation required {1nminous paint become. n strong. On the ¢ and gamma radiatic | grows rapidly and it car medical purposes within a after preparati Radium has a decaying in approxim Mesothorium, on th a short life, five or poses. The 1 varied from 0 to 60 per | dium, the comparison being on pro ucts of special activity purposes, therefore. it « pete with radium as long plenty of the latter. For lumi paint, to be used on objects wii themselves have a short life, it is excellent substitute for radium will tend toward the saving of radi for medical purpo: TUntil a year or two ago no thorfum was recovered in the Unit States, although large gquantities monazite sand are annually treat for the manufacture of incandes gas mantles. Such a cond represented an important mine waste. Shortly after the United States « tered the war the bureau of made a co-operative agrecment the mantle Interests for the study methods of extraction aud r of mesothorium. The work was cit ried on at the tain = tion of the burcau mines at {Colo. Successful methods of extr tion and recovery have beon work out and connected up w lar metallurgical proc: manufacture. Mesotl one of the regular products m: this concern and recover: practically all t treated in the Unite - Travels of the Stork. has been ascertained by markio: ky moy the r rium is ite = e mol State | = | disconcerting. For he look % - storks with numbered rings th s g For he looks into your |\, (. "yirgs migrate from Burope 1 Suetand s encUmnacyOu ek th Africa for the winter. A nun ing. More t e | South 4 or the or. e than that, he tells you all [y, marked storks beeri cap tured at varfous points in South Af rica, and Jast spring one was can tured near Jerusalem. It had originally from Hungary and was an parently on its homeward journe from South Africa with four compan jons. Thid incident is regarded - showing that the storks in puassing between Europe and Africa avoil crossing the Mediterranean sea, tuk ing by preference the longer journ: by land around its eastern end. Th- question yet remains whether the storks breed during their winter vis to Africa. Sea, Rains and Rivers. cen recalculated fro of ran ur TH ERE has recent data the amount annually falling unon the earth’s face. It is found that it Is equiva to a layer of water of th 1 Idemh. for the whole globe 351% inches. The amount falling o1 the land is equivalent to a uniform depth of 29% inches. Considerine only the land which is drained b riwers flowing Into the sea. it is cal culated that only 30 per cent is rg turned to the ocean and that the rest is removed by evaporation.