Evening Star Newspaper, June 10, 1923, Page 74

The Wise Banker Thought It Was Thrift When the Gitl's Savings s Slzews of War Were Deposited a HE time was a drowsy after- noon’in late May. The place was the dust-mellowed office of our Vermont daily paper, the,Paris Telegraph. opened and a young man entered. he had come to Paris to work for old Peter Gi.es in the office of the local pulp mill. Paris called him “the woman hater.” During the decade he lived in town he had never been Known to seek the soclety of a woman. 071 Peter had taught him the pulp ness. He had expected his prod- succeed to the management. itra-conservative stockholders, how- aver, had deciled differently. older man had been hired away from another concern to run the pulp com- pany, though G place in the office. Mr. Hlod,” George xaid to the ed- itor ‘I'd like to talk with you in private. I—I—well, the plain fact is, 1 want a job.” ‘Che editor led cosp of an office “Wha the rooting around ofiice all of a sudden t country newspaper lemanded ” » 1eft the pulp company because I can't stand it another day. 1 want 1o start here and forget 1 ever Lknew anything about manufacturing. (tive me a place, and you won't re- gret it “How much money were you draw- ing when Gates died “Five thousand a year.” “Gee whiz! How old are you?’ “Twenty-nine.” “Sonny.” said the old editor kindly, “you don’t want a newspaper job: vou want @ month in a sanitarfum. A voung man who's mastered the pulp . business—or any business—so that he's worth a hundred a week at twenty-nine in a little town like Paris. is either a fool or a sick man to confess himself beaten because a bone-h secured control.” the way into his matter that you're a country newspaper hunting a job wages?" he But young Benedict only shook his | head. T've soured gn the pulp business.” he returned doggedly. “Besides, Bird was hired under contract and put in down there by stockholders. They an't get rid of nim until his con- tract’s up. and, confidentially, that's zoing to be too late to save the busi- ness., No. Give me a job on | this paper; and I'll give vou five- thousand-a-year ability for eighteen a week T'll guarantee to make good 1 two weeks or you needn’t pay me | & cent.’ | ‘But why not put the facts before | those ‘stockholders?” i They can't be called together. Old Jullus Templeton has gone to Italy. He won’t be back for a vear. Since he left, two of the directors have died «nd Hastings has gone to Asia for the rhorne Knitting Mills people. Bird an't be fired. The local stockholders | who are left are helple Besides, they don't realize how fatally Bird management is affecting the com- pany.” “You've got stock in the company, en’t you?" 1 T have—all my savings have gone into it. But some people are going to lgse thousands where I'm going to lose only hundreds.” “What sort of work do to do around here?” Advertising. 1 want to learn the business end of newspaper publish- | ing.” There was no dissuading the chap. Before the session with Sam was| over. had landed the job. hi vou want | he * * N Monday morning of the week following George Benedict's af- | filiation with the Telegraph, a young woman opened the office at 7:30. ran up the window shades and hung her nat on a hook alongside the old green sife. Then she pinned on a palr of paper cuffs and started through a pile of correspondence which had accumu- lated on her flat-topped desk during Rer absetice She had been working but a few moments when the latch clicked and she raised her clear gray eyes to be- hold & young man. He nodded to her and passed through to Sam Hod's room though he had a right in there “Is sou? 1w there something I can do for the girl asked, < here,” the man replied. You work here!” she gasped. I'm Benedict—George Benedict. I'm looking after the advertising.” “But you're the man who ran the pulp ‘company “Well. what of it? The girl gaped at him blankly. “You're—not going to buy Telegraph?’ she faltered. No,” he laughed bitterly. “I'm here working for wages—-like all the others. “What's the matter with you?” the girl blurted Theé young man winced. “I1ost my place down at the pulp company. So I had to begin at the hottom again somewhere else.” June Farley had ceme to us from the high school over in North Fox- loro. Heér father still ran # little farm’ somewhere back in the Green mountains. As the days grew into weeks June's interest and sympathy ripened into a pathetic, one-sided affection, from which we older heads in the office believed no good could possibly come. All of this bored Benedict. He was ! of those chaps- Wwho mature | carly; a woman had cut her pound of flesh from his heart, and the wound had never healed. On Independence day June Farley went down to visit an aunt who lived in Rutland, and returned on the last train. The day coach was crowded. She wandered down the long aisle looking for a seat. The only place available®in which she might ride in comfort back to Paris was a half-seat toward the forward end of the car. The other half of that seat was occuvied by George Bene- » “May I—share this seat with you?” she asked, flushing as she recognized him. e nodded curtly. He had & news- paper and read it industrfously. The} train started and turned up through the cool, fragrant ravines ‘of the Green mountains. June was hardly the type of girl to throw herself at a man, but perhaps she sensed his need and longing tele- pathically. “I take it you've been spending the day in Rutland also,” she declared in . a pitiful attempt at conversation. “Yes,” he answered, in a tone which jmplied that it couldn't possibly be “pmy of her business. the one An | rge had retained a | ad like Bird has temporarily | | would be friendly | and | office girl | The girl was pigued—mightily. “You certainly do hate one of us own hatred, don’t you?” { with a terrific she commented. *I can't make out *I—don’t—hate—anybody,” fended. “Then what's the matter with you he de- You go about as if you'd last triend, and when other people with you, you— slap them. I've worked in the same office with you for over a month now. And there's hardly been a day when you haven't slapped me, somehow, before it ended.” He meditated on this “Ill have to apologize to you, then,” he said final “You don't understand. I'm worried—more than any one knows. It's—it’'s—the pulp company. You know the story of my experience there, don’t you?" “Not wholly—at least I'v heard your side of the matte Benedict folded his paper. Almost before he was aware, he was acting the unwitting role of the discouraged embittered boy, telling his troubles to a girl. She listened quietly, gravely. Some- how. on that ride she ceased being the plodding little proof-reader and in a country newspaper office up in Vermont. She was a very practical young lady, and her criticisme were constructive and sympathetic. lost your * ok k¥ HE train pulled into Paris before | either was aware they had cov- ered half the distance. They alight- ed, left the depot and walked side by side up through the streets in the | hush of the summer night “But why don't you make a fight?” she demanded as they sat for a time | on the steps of the Whitney house on | June -boarded. Pine street where “You're still a stockholder, aren't you? And all that's standing in your wa Bird. “Oh, you don’t understand.” swered, lapsing af length into hi usual ecynicism. “It takes money, slathers of it, to get control of | encugh stock to oust that contrary bone-head. And it's superfluous to say that I haven't got it. I didn't even have enough to support myself | so I could wait around Paris for something to crash up there at the mill. A fat chance I've got to buying any controlling interest in the busi- ne: “You mean you're penniless?’ “All my savings went to pay for the stock Mr. opportunity to buy. He thought all along that T was to succeed him. He | trained me for it, and now I'm—I'm —helpless.” r “Does it really take money to do what you would like to do in, the pulp company? Or does it take just plain brains and nerve? “What do you mean?’ he asked. “Do you know how to run that business better than Mr. Bird?" “Naturally, T think so.” “That isn't answering my question. Do you?” “Yes.” “Then why not walk in and throw him out? He's only an emvlove, isn't he? And you're a stockholder.” “Throw him out?’ Benedict laugh- ed harshly. “You rfean figuratively or literally?” ‘I mean literally—that refuses to resign and alternative.” “Do you know what would happen if I tried that?” “What?" “Why, would—-" “Well, what would he do? If you mally are a better man than he is, couldn’t vou match him nerve for nerve and move for move?' Bird would have no one to whom to ap- peal to back him up. And if you can’t make good between now and the time the majority stockholders get back, can you ever do it?’ “It isn't done” he declared. *No- body ever heard of one lone stock- holder walking in and ousting a cor- poration manager just becausc his fellow stockholders were absent.” “I see,” the girl remarked acidly. *You lack the nerve!” “I do not lack the nerve!” he re- turned hotly. “Then why don’t you do it? What's stopping you?’ “The law! Bird would have the law on me—somehow. “But you have as much brains as is, if there's he no Bird would — would — is the stubbornness of this man he an-! Gates gave me the| T Bird. Dig up a few laws of your| “That's cave-man stuff!” he tried to explain. “We don't get the things we The street dool"}\rhuher you hate me worse or—your- | want by knocking our' competitors |* selr.” George Benedict was his name, and | | over the head with a club.” ! “Don’t we? I've been under the im- ! ression that real men did—when they had sufficient provocation and all other expedients had been hausted.” This stung him to anger “Your're only a woman' he de-| clared contemptuously. “You're not | supposed to understand.” “And I'm reluctantly compelled to believe that you're only You're not pposed tc either.” Benedict arose stiffty So vou're whipped as easily as that she mused. “Well, I can un- | derstand now why the stockholders | elected another man to the position you expected.” “If you were a man, Miss Farley, youd apologize mizhty quickly for that.” The girl smiled sagely “Indeed! If you're feeling so belli- cose, why mot try some of it on Mr. | Bird.” ex- | a—coward. | understand, ¥k ok % HE had hurt him deeply had meant to hurt him. Intu-| itively she felt that he required | exactly such a jolt. When he did not | reply, merely stood there with his| face averted, she arose and laid her hand upon his arm. In quite another voice, she said “Please forgive me. 1 don’'t mean to be—cheap. Everybody says—that | you have given up too easil; { “I wish people would mind their | own business!” | “Mr. Benedict—just what is the| matter? Do you really lack the | |nerve? 1Is that it?" ! “Maybe it's the cowardice of wis- dom.,” he returned, softened some- what. “Lack of money makes cow- | ards of the strongest men at times.” | “Is it really mone | Yes, it's money. You mean money for your per- sonal expenses while fighting Bird?" “Money for attorneys, money for | the bond I'd have to give, money, | money, money at every turn of the| | road. | She meditated | been hard on him. | “Oh, well,” she laughed, “forget it | | for a few hours, Mr. Benedict. Miybe | {1 can think up some way to help | | you.” | With scarcely a good-night, he left | her. ! The situation continued without ' change for some weeks. Rumors| | came that affairs wers going from bad to worse in the pulp company. | Bird fought with his best fore- Imen and lost them. The one-| | tdea manager tried to do all the de- | tail work himself, with consequent injury to the business. He lost sev- Perhaps she had | HE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D.. 'E 10, THEREUPON THE ASSEMBLED '1923—PART 5 THE WOMAN-HATER Countne iyl | without ployes, and closed the door in their | faces. Alone with George, the manager be- | gan removing his hat and coat. “I wouldn't take off my hat and coat, Mr. Bird” George advised. “You're not going to stay, you know.” “Who says I'm not?" “I say so—as ome of your em | ployers.” ( “You're not the whole board, I was latred by a majority of the stock- holders, and until I'm relieved of my place by ‘them at the expiration of my contract, T intend to run this mill let or hindrance from the least of them.” “You're going to do no such thing. Mr. Bird. I have taken it upon my- self to represent the board until such time as it can convene and bring about, formally, your discharge. Tll make my position and rcasons clear enough to the stockholders when the time comes.” “But—but—it—it's illegal and—-" “Who said it was illegal?” “I atar “Where thority?” Bird tried to answer. “But it isn't done, I tell you! all he could say. “If one stockholder chooses to do did you get vour ab: was | this unconventional thing, who's go- | ing to stop him?” asked George. in the “But I have some rights matter. I have a contract— “Very trye. | But I have possession. Your only alternative is to get an injunction to stop me from doing the things I purpose to do. But I hardly think the court will ignore the right of a competent stockholder to step in here and save the business. T'll take | my chances.” in this | office until the stockholders can as-! began primping before stand. “Good morning,” the wash-| came a strange| | voice in reply. | OFFICE EMPLOYES BEHELD THEIR LATE LORD AND MASTER MOVING SWIFTLY TOWARD THE OUTER DOOR, A VERY BODY SUPPLYING THE POWER FOR HIS LO vou're only using the lack of it as a dodge. “Indeed? But—but—what do you | think I could accomplish with a mere two hundred dollars? 1 It was cruel, for the sum was evi- dently all the gir] could raise. And to her it was quite a sum Indeed 1 see,” she said, as her face flamed. | “Then you might take it—if it were! more. i “I haven't said so. I merely asked | a question.” | ke | CAPABLE, ATHLETIC YOUNG MOTION. room. George bearded the old finan- cier in his den * Rk ¥ O N the following Monday morning, Mike Flaherty, janitor at the pulp mill office, was sweeping out about seven o'clock. when he glanced up to see Benedict enter from the rear shipping-room door. “Are you back here to work?" de manded Mike. “Everybody thought vouse had quit.” “I've been away on a sort of vaca- tion, Mike. I'm back now as man- S he stood looking down into her ager. face he saw her eyes stream tears. Slowly she turned away. “Then you are hopeless, after all And T've been believing in you, all along. IU's not accepting this money that would make me think less of | you; it's in refusing it,” she told him. It was with an effort that she con- trolled her voice. ‘“Nobody would | ever know about it—surely you don't think me cheap enough to advertise it. Ever since you got your place here I've tried to make you see how <M | eral important contracts, and three | | of the company’s warchouses were | stored with pulp improperly made, | which sooner or later must be beaten | over again. The day when most of old Peter | Qates’ former employes struck at the | pulp mill June Farley sought action | by a drastic maneuver. In an other-’ | wise empty office she called to George as he was going out for lunch. [ “Well, what is 1t?" he asked petu- | lantly. | June opened the left-hand top drawer of her desk, picked up some- thing lying there. “You remember the talk we had the evening of Fourth of July on my front steps?” “Of course, I remember.” “You intimated that if you had the money to finance yourself you might start something. Well, take this— and go to it!” : George glanced down. In her hand were two packets of new, crisp bank notes. Each was banded tightly with a strip of salmon-colored paper. And on each strip was rubber-stamped: “$100.” Benedict gasped. “What is it? Where did you get it? Never mind where I got it +1t's} money and it will help you.” Two hundred-dollars! To fight old | Jonas Bird and secure control of the Gates Pulp and Paper company! It would have been ludicrous—if it had been less pathetic. “I—can’t take your money,” he said huskily. “What sort of chap do you think I am, anyhow?” “That's just what I'm trying to find out. I'm interested to krow if money 1s really stopping you or whether i GEORGE GLANCED DOW! IN HER HAND WERE TWO PACK- ETS OF NEW, CRISP BANK: NOTES. : you're one of those men who don’t deserve help.” His face was strangely bloodless as. he said: “So you think I'm no good, do- you?" “What else can I think? The first thing a woman admires in a man is courage. You haven’t shown enough to cover & pin-point.” George Benedict's teeth came sud- denly together with a snap. “Give me the money,” he ordered. “You've made this whole thing a bit too personal. So I haven't enough courage to cover a pin-point, haven't 1?7 We'll see. And before I'm done, Miss Buttinsky, T'M make you eat crow!” : George went out into Main street, and walked and walked. Early the next morning he showed up at the People’s National Bank. He deposited that two hundred dollars! in his own name, but he stored the passbook away in an inner pocket as a trust. With the money thus safely dis- posed of, he turned toward the front of the bank. Judge Farmer, the pres- ident, could be seen at his desk throygh the open door of the cormer . lory be!" cried the emotional Celt, “Maybe the boys won't be glad to hear that, Georgie. Old Bird's a skunk; is he fired™" “He is.” “What did he canned?” “He hasn't said anything vet a matter of fact, he doesn’t know i “Don’t know ut! When's he goin to l'arn?” “When he comes in this morning.” The Irishman grinned. Benedict say when he was A But she | gooligh and afraid you've been, but | passed on inte Jonas Bird's private fp =N RN office. Mike. departed to spread the news through the mill. Benedict entered the room formerly occupled by old Peter Gates and him- self. The young man had a key to Bird's disk. He inserted it rolled up the top. Then he st in to clean the desk of all the ac- cumulated impedimenta belonging to the said Bird, business and personal, all and sundry. He was so employed when Miss Hallett,” ‘the stenographer Bird had hired upon his assumption of the management. entered the offices by the front door, She. had supplanted Mildred Rivers, .who had been old Peter’s faithful secretary. Miss Hal lett was a big, flashily dressed blonde. She saw the door of Bird's private office ajar and heard the tearing cf papers from within, “Hello, déarie,” she called, the of- fice being otherwise .empty. And she The woman turned in confusion to behold” a tall young man regarding | her from the private-office doorway. | “You!” she cried. “What are you| doing in Mr. Bird's private office?” | “Cleaning it out,” responded Bene- dict, curtly. “What's happened to Mr. Bird?" “He's canned.” “But I saw Mr. Bird last night, and he sald nothing about—-" “Perhaps not. I'm managing this business this morning, however. I | might as well tell you now as later, | that Miss Rivers is coming back this | afternoon, and your own services will no longer be required.” “You didn’t hirel me, and you can’t fire me. T won't go until I'm turned off by Mr. Bird himself.” “It's immaterial to me. Only there will be no pay check coming to you | next Saturday afternoon. “I'll ses Mr. Bird about this. “Go ahead. T merely mentioned | Miss Rivers' return to save you em- barrassment later in the day.” | From the inner room came the tearing and crumping of more papers. One by one, the remainder of. the office employes drifted in. They did [not go quietly to their desks. The | Hallett person saw to that. She was a wronged woman and discoursed loudly upon the wrong. Having finished the cleaning of the desk, . Benedict stepped to the door and politely ordered the employes to their desks. A tall. thin shipping clerk stepped forward. i | i | 4 Mr. Bird's place?! he demanded. | Mr. Bird and myself and go on with the day’s work,” was the sharp retort. “Is that a threat?’ demanded the young man. “That's an order,” George corrected. ‘And those who refuse to obey my orders are fired. Do you want it plainer than that? If you do, say so! * * ¥ % T was a few minutes past 9 o'clock when Jonas Bird entered the office. His favorites surged forward. “What right has he got to take | your place?” they cried. | “He?" stammered Jonas. you mean, he?” 8 “George Benedict—the fellow who quit here in May “Where is he?" “In your private office.” | Bird had reached the | But he paused there. “Whatter you doing here?” he roar- ed at Benedict. George gave a careless glance over | his shoulder. | “Oh, it's you—Mr. Bird. Good | morning.” Fine day outslde, isn't it?" “What does this mean?" cried Bird. “Answer me before I send for the po- lice. T hardly think I'd send for the po- lce, Mr. Bird—not it T were consult- ing my own interests.” Benedict was { cool. “Why shouldn’t T send for the po- | lice? What right have you got here, | anyway?” “There were many things here in “Who do threshold. be desired. I decided to assume the place Mr. Gates would want me to assume if he were alive.” Behind Bird, peering over his | shoulders, the office employes grouped themselves. “Get out of here, all of you!” roared Bird. Then to Benedict: “And you get out of here along with them?” | “You're wasting my time and your jown, Mr. Bird. Nothing doing,” said | George. = “Send for Chief Hogan!” roared Bird over his shoulder. “Just one moment, Mr. Bird. It you ordered Mr. Hogan to arrest me and he was so thoughtless as to comply, it might involve him in an ugly dificulty. Hogan has property which I might attach for damages, though you have not.” “Damages? What damages could you have coming to you?" “Read the by-laws of this corpor- ation. I'm a stockholder here. I've a perfect rigt on the company's property, anywhere I wish to go, at any time of the day or night. Get that? Likewise I've a perfect right to inspect all the books and records of this business whenever I like, and otherwise deport myself as though I were one of its owners—which I am. You own no stock in this company. You're merely an employe hired for a specified salary. And it's custo- mary in business, Mr. Bird, for the employer to be above the employe. There's the telephone. Call any at- torney and find out.” Bird whirled on the curlous em- the mill not going as well as might | “You can't eat and sleep semble,” protested Jonas. “The min- ute you go out I shall take that desk and turn the tables on you.” “I shall go and come in and out of this office as I please. And every time I find you here and you do not move out when requested I shall throw you out.” “And what if T choose the same expedient? * Bk EORGE arose from the chair. He stood a head and a half taller | than the manager. Bird did some | swift thinking. “All right,” he cried. “You can't run this business ten hours without | handling funds. The moment you go indorsing or writing checks I'll have you jailed. And the bank official who passes your signature will find him- self in the same fix.” “You don't suppose I came down here to assume charge without pro- tecting myself on such a point, did you? Mr. Bird, you underestimate my intelligence and your own, too.” “What have you done about the bank account?’ Bird demanded. “It might pay you to make inquiries at the bank. I have arranged for a any such sums as I may employ in the conduct of the business. A very accommodating gentleman kindly con- sented to sign that bond for me” | “Who is he?" “Judge Amos Farmer, president of | the Peoples Bank—also a minor stock- | holder in this company. You see, JIr. | Bird, the judge couldn’t call the | bank’s loans and bring your adminis- the company, so T told him I would { *“This is the limit!” cried Jonas. | “T sue you for my salary—- | “I haven't refused to pay vour sal: {ary. That can run until the expira- tion of your contract.” Bird blazed. ‘“Come shove me out of a job, will you? show vou!" in here and ™m ZGINNING in July or August, the air mail will inaugurate continuous service between New York and San Francisco, negotiating in twenty-eight hours the 3,000 miles intervening, according to an announcement made by Postmaster General New. Letters placed on the planes in New York just before noon will arrive in Chicago at sundown. Here a waiting pilot will take up the flight through the night, landing at Cheyenne just before dawn. A third aviator will climb the lofty top® of the Rockies and over the Sierras, reaching the Golden Gate before the sun sets the second time since the mail left the Atlantic shore In his statement regarding the con- tinuous service, for which a year of | careful preparation has been made, Postmaster General New said: “As a result of the preparations un- dertaken during the .last twelve months by the division of air mail, the night flights between Chicago and Cheyenne, Wyo.. will be made under conditfons which offer scarcely more hazard than day flying. The pilot will be guided by a pathway of powerful beacon capable of piercing difficult atmospheric conditions, point- ing the way unervingly over the prairic to the terminal . flelds, | Each plane will carry powerful | searchlights available for forced | 1andings in case of necessity. Emer- | gency fields have been located and | lighted every twenty-five miles on | the route. In addition to these pre- cautions and many others the prac- ticability of night flying is insured by the natural advantages of the gulde their planes. The plains coun- try is, of course, noted for its level- ness, fortunately providing natural landing flelds, while the lack of humidity in the air adapts this route to the illumination plan. * k% % u\/ln_.mo S of people in the middle VI west will nightly witness an artificlal aurora borealis. visible fully fifty miles from its source under good atmospheric conditions, when the night service of the air mail gets under way. This will be created by sweeping lights which will be estab- lished on the five regular fields—Chi- cago, Towa City, Omaha, North Platte and Cheyenne. Each of these beacons will have 600,006,000 candle power. “The air mail beacons will be quite Qifferent from the shore lighthouse BY i | WILLIAM DUDLEY PELLEY “That, of course, is your privilege.” bond to indemnity this company for! terrain over which the pilots must | i i ] He sprang for a heavy inkwell aught it up and swung it. In a twinkling Benedict was uposi him. Thereupon the assembled offic employes beheld their late lord and | master moving swiftly toward th. |outer door. He was assisted In hi: | progress by the pair of steely youns |hands wherewith he was grasped and a very capable, athletic youns | body supplying the power for his lo- comotion. He went through the sereen with a ripping sound. Rolling to the ground he finally regained his feet just as another hu- man being dropped after him. It was |the shipping clerk. Bird shook his fist at George standing in the door- way above. “I'll sue you for this!” he cried. Georgo Benedlet went back to the private room through a thoroughly subdued and curiously quited office. Straight for the office of Bob Hent- ley, our town’s attorney of conse- quence, Jonas Bird made his way. Bob listened to his narrative in si- | 1ence. “What I want to know is, can he get away with it?” Bird concluded. “Of course he can't get away with | it—that is, unless—> nless what?" “Unfess he's told vou tI truth about having Judge Farmer: behlnd |nim. In that case you'd better take a check for the balance of your un- expired term and let the boy alone Wait, and Tl get the judge on to: telephone.” “You tell Bird” came the judges |command. it he knows whats | ealthy for him—to accept that sa | ary check Benedict will draw for hin { Tell him I'm backing young Benedict the limit % Ay |J*HE evening of the day wher | L Jonas Bira departed from Paris jour farmer ad man again visited {the Telegraph’s place of business. “Where's June Farley?’ he asked Judge Farmer was in the editor's private office gossiping with that { worthy. Sam Hod replied that June |had just left the office. The banker | smiled kindly at the young man. “How's things going down to the mill, | sonny?* he inquired. | “The men are all back. George re- plied, as he headed for the outer office door. He had opened that door when thought of something he wished to ack the judge, %o he closed the door. The two men in the inner room assumed the young man had left the office. There upon Sam Hod said something about George being a smart young fellow. “A smart voung feller?”’ repeated |Judge Farmer. “Sure he's a smart voung feller. But lenime tell ou secret, Hod. There's such a thing in the world as thrift.” | enriee whacs | with §t2* “I'm a banker—by trade and temper ament. Thrift means clever managing A man who knows how to manage his own finances cleverly can manage othe people’s.” “Do’ you mean to say vou backed George Benedict in his new position be- cause of his thrift?” “I do! He got a job here in the tele- graph office in May. He quit it in Au- gust. The day he made up his mind to | make a fight for the place to which he was entitled, he deposited two hundred | dollars in our savings department—and thrift got to do “By what authority are you ukin“trnuon to a close without wrecking |moreover, he didn’t draw upon it for ex- | penses. A chap as thrifty as that de- “I'm suggesting you leave that to |run the company as it should be run.” serves backing. Yes sir® I'll bet on him. | In the outer office George turned and tiptoed out—out to find June Farley To his credit, in view of thelr mar- riage this afternoon, let it be set down | that he tiptoed out to give her some- thing more than the two hundred un- used dollars of her savings! (Oopyright, 1923.) LIGHTBEAMS WILL GUIDE AIR MAIL beacons which guide the ships of ti sea. To suit the needs of ships of the air they will swing around on the toj of their towers, throwing a bean three degrees above the horizon, three complete revolutions being made every minute. Pilots can easily pich up these giant beacons and gulde their planes to the field. The lights will be operated only at hours when a plane is expected. “Not depending alone on termina lights, the Post Office Department is locating less powertul beacons every twenty-five miles along the route Like their larger brothers, they w also swing around the horizon. but their visibility is limited to abou thirty miles. These smaller beacor will mark the emergency landing flelds to which a pilot can descend in case of necessity.” * & k¥ a safeguard for the pilot flying at night in a low “ceiling”—tha s, when the clouds hang low—flash- ing trafic lights, ‘similar to those placed on streets, will be placed o the ground every three miles alons the route. These lights will be di rected toward the skies instead o dlong the ground. This will enabl a pilot who might lose sight of the field beacons to trace from his plane | several thousand feet in the air narrow line of light stretching fo miles over the earth Bufidings and. other obstacles the landing flelds will be marked wit red beacons to aid in negotiating landing. Pllots will fly at a helght which will make it easy for them to volplane to the nearest emergency fleld should the engine go dead. Mr. New sald that since the depar:- ment had anticipated a general use of the service by the public, it was re- garded as probable that a specia’ airplane stamp would be issued, stamp which would be sold at a price commensurate with the service. Alr mail service has been in.opera tlon in the United $tates since M 15, 1818, when the Washington-New York route was. established. This was followed by the New York Chicago servic wo and a half years ago a transcontinental route was undertaken, but it “was not a through service, its purpose being to advance the mails. Mail planes, for example, would pick up late mails in New York, fly with them to Cleveland and place the sacks.on the Chicago express tralh which left New York (he night before.