Evening Star Newspaper, October 18, 1925, Page 86

T As a Cop He Felt That Romance Favored His Rival, a Fireman HE is always the longest. To Joseph Patrick Mulhall, it seemed that_the dawn would never come. From maldnight on, he had been walking, walking, walking—follow- ing the building line of his first beat— and no one had pald any attention to him. His new shoes squeaked. The stiff collar had rubbed most of the bark off his neck. The calves of his legs were full of lead, and his back was nearly broken from the unaccus- tomed weight of gun and cartridges and cuffs and club and flash-lamp and all the rest of the police impediments. He had still 30 minutes before he could report off, and he headed up Sanchez street eying the pedestrians in the hope that some one would give him a friendly nod or smile in passing. But nobody seemed to realize that the San Francisco Police Department had been honored by the acquisition of Joe Mulhall “You'd think I was carryin’ a small- pox sign,” he reflected, “an’ the cap- tain says the first duty of a new man 1s to make friends with the people on his beat. What a fine sense of humor he’s got!” But a few minutes later the world had taken on a more kindly aspect for the sun came out, bathing in a flood of pale gold the city of St. Francis A vagrant little poppy in the crevice of a wall, was nodding under the morning wind, nodding straight in the direction of a young cop, who paused to consider this phenomenon. The poppy persisted in its friendly over- tures. Mulhall, hands clasped behind his back, delivered himself of his first offictal speech “Mornin’ yourselt.” said been a long night, ain't it? you seen I wase 2 new cop The poppy nodded “Much obliged for the nod. first friendly sign I've had since I took the job. What are you doin’ around here, anyway? Have you got any regular abode or place of employ- ment? You haven't? Well, I'll have to pick you up, then. If the wind gets any stronger, it will blow you to pieces, anyway. Come along, now Down the street came Joa Mulhall, golden poppy swishing in his hand, to where Con MeCarron's wrecking yard fits into a curve on Mission street. Up the street came Miss McCarron to open the office where she served as her father's bookkeeper and pay clerk. Give Nora the benefit of the doubt! maybe the front door lock did At all e , the closer the young officer_approached, the more trouble emed to be having in Joe quickened first night he. “It's 1 suppose It's the effecting his pace. Can I help you, miss?” Nora looked up in pretty confusion “Why, thank you, I can't imagine what's wrong. The key doesn’t seem tc want to turn.” “Maybe somebody’s been tryin' to bust in,” said Joe. “If yvou'll hold this flower for me I'll try my luck.” der police prassure the lock yield- “Better give the place the once- he suggested. “Everything look ** she answered. “Dad never money in the safe. There's office, you know, that's leaves a nothing in t of any value Mentally the young patrolman took issue with that last statement, for the morning sunshine cast a halo around the girl's face and auburn hair. She | was expressing thanks again and| holding out to him his poppy “Oh, that's all right,” he told her. “I'd be obliged if vou'd stick that flower in a little water and give it a chance. It's my first pinch, you know."” I love poppies,” she told him “Do you, now?” he marveled. “Well, s f He backed to the door, cap in hand. e Captain said T was to make friends on my beat.” he blurted. “My name'’s Joe Mu T'm happy to have met y cCarron,” said Nora. “The pleas e. If I can help you get the district, I'll do my best. I suppose vou've met the boys across the street? They're all good friends of mine."” Mulhall turned in the direction she had indicated and for the first time became aware that Con McCarron’s wrecking vard was directly across the street from a_firehouse, in front of which three blue-clad figures were furtively regarding him over the tops of newspapers. Mulhall replaced his cap hurriedly “I ain't met ’em yet,” said he, “but no doubt we'll get acquainted when 1 rout 'em out of bed the first time. Well, I'll be going along, miss.” 0od-bye, Mr. Mulhall * X %k X SPURRED to action by the gallantry of a yvoung harness bull, Lieut Otto Nelson, Chemical Truck 5, pre- pared to uphold the honor of the Fire Department. Otto was the depart- ment's best athlete, a blond Adonis with nerves of steel. He presented Nora Me n with an_insurance calendar picturing a brave fireman de- scending a ladder with an unconsclous gIrl in his arms “Why. that's awfully nice of you, Otto, ra acknowledged. “Isn't it pretty?” She hung the calendar on the wall where Officer Mulhall beheld it the next morning. Thus the contest began—a contest that eventually in- volved the honor and prestige of two great departments of civic service. Understand that a police officer and a fireman have much in common. They are both sworn to the defense of life and property and ready to lay down their lives for one another in the hour of danger. But underneath the professional co- operation there Is a very deep and natural rivalry and nothing gives either department quite so much sat isfaction as a chance to “hang it on" the other. In all things save one they are fairly matched, but the exception is important. So far as a large portion of the public Is concerned, the fireman is always a hero and the poor cop al- ways a bum. | Just why this should be is beyond the philosophy of a hard-working offi- cer of the law, but he learns to ac- cept it as one of the penalties of his profession, and he looks upon a fire- man as one of those lucky mortals on whom the gods have, for no particu- lar reason that he can see, conde- scended to smile. Truth to tell, the man whose occupation is to save pe ple has an unfair advantage over one whose duty is to lock them up. This s all you need to know to ap- preciate what Officér Joe Mulhall Wwas up against in the courtship of Nora McCarron. But he did his best, and after two months on the beat, he led Fireman Nelson by three theater tickets and a box of candy. This was obviously not a sufficlent margin for safety, and when Sergt. Patterson recommended Joe for a day beat that transferred him to the other end of the district, Mulhall's protest could be heard all over the Mission Btation. “I won't go!” he thundered. “That's my, beat and I'm going to hang on o 1t “Just for that,” said Sergt. Patter- son, “I'll turn you in to the captain for insubordination. You must be makin’ good money on that beat.” . Capt. Collins was Inclined to be se- vere. Mulhall was compelled in self- defense to blurt out the truth. “Sweetest little girl in the world, captain, but I'm just managing to hold my own with this fellow now. He't ’.ot all the natural advantages, and if vou transfer me, my last hope’s e - ure's all acquainted icke) “A fireman?” said Capt. Collins. “Yes, captain, and he's stationed across the street from her. Two weeks day duty and two weeks night. He gets a chance at her coming and going. Now, if you was to give me the day watch on the same beat, I'd be eternially grateful.” “Of course, T will,” said Capt. Col- lins. “The firemen are always but- ting into police affairs. Is he good looking, Joe?" Mulhall nodded gloomily. “They usually are,” sighed the cap tain. “Go back to your beat and don't let that fireman show vou up. If vou do, I'll have you up before the com- missioners. Wait a minute—can you play ball by any chance?" “I was center fielder on a high school tea: “Fine! I'll stick you in the line-up when we cross bats with the firemen for the Widows and Orphans’ Fund. D your girl like ball games?"" think she does,” sald Mulhall. “This other fellow is Otto Nelson, cap- tain of the firemen's team. He was a_professional in the Coast League, one of them fence-busters you read about.” Collins grunted his disgust and then nodded dismissal hat'll be all, Joe. I'll give you the day beat. Report to me what progress you're making. By the way, what's her name?” “Nora McCarron, captain, Collins looked up quickly. “Not old Con's daughter? The same? You show good judgment! Nora went to school with my daughter, and I know | her like she was my own. Why, that | girl ain't going to throw herself away | on no fireman, is she?" “Not if I can help it, captain.” * x % x BUT the path of true love is no trail of rose leaves for a young patrol- | man, even though his superlor stakes | him to a day watch. Mulhall did his best. But the natural advantages rested, as usual, with the smoke-eater. Mulhall never had a chance to go into action with Nora McCarron as | witness. Conversely, the stage was always set for Lieut. Otto Nelson. When he was ready for his entrance, | gongs rang, sirens shrieked, and Nora had but to look up from her desk to see the fire apparatus come pounding into the street, making a hazardous turn right in front of her window. What girl could resist that sort of appeal? “It ain't falr” reflected Mulhall. “Not by no manner of figurin't If that dumbell Dane was drivin’ the truck, he'd never make that turn once in a hundred times. He'd have his eves on Nora, and he'd go up on the sidewalk and burn up the whole lumber yard!"” But the thing that came nearest to breaking his heart was when he first beheld Nora wearing the knitted shawl that had been made by the skillful hands of Otto Nelson. There it was, around the shoulders of the girl he loved! Around her shoulders! Heaven help Joe Mulhall “How can I beat that?” he asked himself. “What can I do with these big fists of mine? Nawthin'." But he was wrong. for that very afternoon he made valiant use of his muscular body and heavy hands. He s passing the time of day with Sergt. Babe Rizzoli, who weighed 300 pounds and was anchor man on the champlon tug-of-war team of the Pacific Coast. The muffled sound of an explosion reached their ears and they looked up to see the smoke streaming from the seventh story of an overall factory across the street. Mulhall started for the nearest box. Rizzoli velled after him: “Come up on the roof afterward. Try the ad- joinin' building. This is gonna be bad!” s Mulhall appreciated what Rizzoli meant. The stalrs were narrow, the pe badly located, and the nearest apparatus 10 blocks away—blocks choked, at this hour, with traffic. He | “pulled” the box, posted a man there to signal the first engine, and then raced back to where a crowd was already gathering. A hurried uvward glance showed came from the street below. But clouds of black smoke were now rolling from the lower floors, screen- ing from view of those in the street the women in the window and the two officers just above. The girl in the cap bore a faint resemblance to Nora McCarron. Mulhall whipped off his jacket and unbuckled his cartridge belt. “Think u can hold me, Babe?" “If I can't,” sald Rizzoli, “I'll go overboard with Take the police grip now and hang on for your life!” Head down and seven stories above the street, Mulhall was lowered out of the window, trusting only to Babe Rizzoll's grip on his ankles.” He grasp- ed the nearest girl by the wrists, and then felt the skin being ripped from his shin-bones as Rizzoll drew him up over the window ledge. Again he went down, and again he brought up a girl. There remained only the forewoman. This time he took the precaution of using his handcuffs, for his fingers were numb and he was dizzy from the rush of blood to his head. He snapped a steel bracelet on his own wrist and managed to lock, the other half around the upraised wrist of the woman. It was well he did so, for she fainted as soon as he swung her from the ledge. The added welght told on him; smoke and heat assailed his lungs, and for an instant nothing held him to his prisoner save two inches of steel chain. For a moment he thought they were lost. Above him he heard the agenized groaning of Babe Rizzoli, as the strain- ing glant struggled. Then, the train- ing of the police gym told its story. The “anchor man" of the department, blue veins standing out on his fore- head, gave a final mighty heave, and won the tug of war with death! Mulhall unlocked his cuffs, gathered an unconscious form in his arms and followed his comrade, who was drag- ging the two girls toward the skylight. Rizzoll leaped and pulled himself up. One after another, Mulhall managed to lift the women within reach of the sergeant’s arms. The heat was almost unbearable. “Go ahead!” shouted Mulhall. “On your way with ’em Babe. I'll get up!” Rizzoli made his way along the roof, carrying one woman and piloting the others. His subordinate gathered him- self, jumped and caught the rim of the vlight. Then the rotten frame gave , and Joe Mulhall crashed back- ward. His head hit a packing case, and he felt himself drifting away dreamily on a stlent outbound tide. * K K X T was the next day before Mulhall became aware of the presence of flowers, and by the same token knew that he must be dead. Poppies, pale gold poppi a ma: of them almost within his reach. Now, what was it they stood for? ra McCarron, of course! Oh, glory, he could hear her e e, dear, please! Joe! It's Nor That settled it, he was in heaven! No police harness on his frame, no thunder of traffic in his ears, no fire- men cluttering up the landscape. He chuckled as he realized that he'd hung it on Otto Nelson at last! sweet voice again: ok, Uncle Jim, his lips are mov- He's trying to whisper some- What is it, Joe? This is Nora McCarron. Mulhall's eyes looked into the blue orbs of Con’s daughter. “Sweetheart!” he whispered. Nora’s cheeks flamed. Mulhall be- came aware that he wasn't in heaven after all. He was in the Emergency Hospital and by his side stood the uniformed figure of Capt. James W. Collins. A great relief was reflected in the latter's eves, but his voice was cal as ever “Easy now, easy—you glory-hound! Nothin' wrong with you save a few burns, some barked shins and a bump on the head. You'll be reportin’ on again in a day or two. Well, Nora, T'll be golng along. See that Joe don't fall out of bed.” It was a golden opportunity for Joe, lying there all afternoon with one of BY GERALD but the rules of the game call to me to acknowledge my debt. Mind puttin’ it there?" He held out a blistered hand, and Nelson rose to meet it. “It's all right, Joe! You understand, of course, I was hoping all the time I'd have to drop you.” Mulhall nodded. “But you couldn't! Tough luck, but that's the way it goes. I'd have had to do the same thing. Well, see you again some time." At'this stage in the courtship fresh fuel was added to the fire by the ap- proach of the annual ball game. Capt. Collins, despite his years, was a splendid first baseman and a fleld manager of recognized ability. One week before the event he concentrated his attention on the approaching contest. Five o'clock practice was the rule in the public playground nearest to the Mission station. Joe Mulhall galloped all over the fleld, making one hair-raising catch after another. His superior was im- pelled to compliment him. *“°‘At's the stuff, boy! This fellow Nelson ain't going to get any home runs while you're playin’ center fleld.” Mulhall replied fervently: “You're right, he ain't!” And Coliins under- stood that the forthcoming game, so far as Joe was concerned, would be strictly a two-man contest. Collins put an arm around the shoulders of his eubordinate. “Did Nora tell you she's to be one of the program girls? Take my advice, Joe, and date her up for after the game. Do that before the other fellow beats you to It Mulhall saluted. “I'll do it, Captain. Much obliged for the assignment.” L N ] "THE sreat day came—a balmy Call- fornia Winter day, with a crowd overflowing the ball park, with Nora McCarron heading a bevy of pretty program girls, with firemen's quartets and police bands, and exhibition drills, and all the,color and excitement that made suchoccastons memorable. Po- lice Chief O’'Connor threw the first ball, Fire Chief Powell caught it, his honor the mayor decided it was a strike, and the official umpires then took charge. The game was on. For the first time in 10 years the nolice were winning. Capt. Collins and Joe Mulhall were leading the attack. Red-faced cops were running them- selves dizzy and the firemen were dazed by the extent of the conflagra- tion. Three runs in the first inning, five more in the third, seven in the fitth. Capt. Collins came reeling to the bench, so exhaustel he could hardly walk. Mulhall's back was nearly broken. Corp. Barnes, pitching ace of the department, was pop-eyed from fatigue. He had just scored his second home run. The police had performed—not wise- Iy but too well. The firemen were in better condition than their opponents. More than that, they were accustomed to long-drawn-out struggles. The tide of battle began to turn. “Hold 'em, boys!” implored Capt. Collins. “Ten-run lead and only two in- nings to go! They can't beat us now! Heads up, everybody, for the honor of the forcy “Ducky” Smith of the fire depart- ment tripled in the eighth with the bags full and was nailed at the plate for the out that ended the inning. The firemen came to bat in the last half of the ninth seven runs behind, but prepared to drive the tired police from the face of the earth. Luck, as usual, had gone into reverse gear. Every ball that was hit seemed to be en- dowed with the desperate ingenuity of a criminal fleeing from the law. grounders twisted through police legs or struck pebbles and bounced over the heads of cursing cops. In vain Capt. Collins halted the proceedings to substitute one pitcher after another and call reserve inflelders from the bench. What he needed was the shot- gun squad. Gradually the score mounted and the climax of the game approached. Parker, at short for the “THE CAPTAIN SAID T WAS TO MAKE FRIENDS ON MY BEAT,” HE BLURTED. that his worst fears were due to be realized. The fire was on next to the top story and quite evidently had broken out near the stairways, for panic-stricken girls were crowding to the windows. Employes on the lower floors were making their way to the street, but escape was being gradually cut off from those on a level with the flames. The bullding next door was one level above the factory. Mulhall gained the elevator and shouted to the boy: “Step on it, son! All the way up!” Three minutes later he was choking at the side of Babe Rizzoll In a smoke-filled loft. “Been lookin’ for rope,” panted the sergeant. “Stairs are gone! Women at a window just below us . . . Can't get down . . Got to get ‘em up somehow. Hollerin' like mad! Hear 'em?” * X ¥ *x THE two officers groped their way through smoke over a heated floor. They opened a window and leaned out. Directly below them a gray-haired forewoman was struggling with two terrified girls who seemed bent on leaping into the street. A white cap that covered the tresses of one of the girls was on fire. Walling slrens and the deep clamox of gongs Nora's small hands imprisoned in his own. ‘When she had gone, he sent for the papers and propped himself up in bed. There was a chance that they might have used his photograph. By goily, there it was! First page! But hold on—holy jumpin’ giraffes, what was this? Mulhall's dazed eyes reread the head- line: “Heroism features factory fire! Po- lice rescue imperiled girls. . . Un- consclous cop borne from burning roof by helmeted hero.” And alongside Mulhall’s picture was the portrait of Lieut. Otto Nelson,and below & graphic sketch showing a fire- man climbing out of a flery well with an unconscious officer slung over his shoulder. | Mulhail’s ‘shaking hands crumpled up the newspaper. “It's a le!” he shouted. “I don't believe a word of it. I'd "a’ got out by myself if he'd given me time. Gimme my clothes. I'm goin’ right back on the job!” Days later he paused at the head- quarters of Chemical Truck No. 6. From a seat in the sunshine Lieut. Nelson contemplated Officer Mulhalk The latter grinned lhnvh.hl;.rn 5 “Well, Otto,”” said he. not above admittin’ that I bate youx looks, police, leaped back-handed and pulled down a line drive. But the next two men walked, putting the tying and the winning runs on base. Then up came Lieut. Otto Nelson, swinging three bats, and Joe Mulhall appreciated that his hour had come. The last inning—the score 15 to 14! Two men on, and the game hinging on the next play. If he caught the ball the game was over. At least, that's how Joe Mulhall had it figured out. And who can blame him? It had been a long and confusing inning, and now here was the great moment just a8 h pictured it. He had imagined the crowd carrying him off the fleld; he had visioned himself presenting the ball as a souvenir to Nora McCarron, and he had heard the music of her voice crying, “Oh, Joe, dear, it was simply wonderful!” { Capt. Collins’ voice came drifting from the inflels “Mind the throw, everybody! Mind the throw!” * k% 'OW, what did the captain mean by that? Joe Mulhall was not going to throw the ball; Joe was going to catch it. And afterward no one was going to get it but Nora MoCarvon. There were two outs, weren't there? Or wers there? For the briefest of BEAUMONT moments a vague doubt assafled his tired mind. The next instant every consideration was banished by the sharp crack of a bat. Otto Nelson had caught one right on the nose. It sounded Ifke an explosion. By all the laws of likelihood it was a home run. The crowd arose as one man. The air was black with firemen’s hats. Bedlam lasted five seconds, and then was blanketed. Twenty thousand eyes were following a flying figure in center field, who was running as no police officer had ever run before. With the crack of the bat Mulhall had started for the fence. Love light- ened his feet and desperation lent him wings. Over his shoulder he caught the blurred line of the oncoming ball. The wind was holding it up. Ahead of him loomed the fence. “God help me!” he shouted. “Nora!" And putting all his energies into the effort, he left the ground in & spinning leap, stabbed biindly with a huge bare paw, and felt the exquisite smack as his ‘fingers closed upon the flying leather. The next instant he had smashed into the fence. Never was there seen such a catch in the history of the ball park. A panic of shy happiness seized Joe Mulhall. He waved the ball at the shrieking stands, shoved it into his pocket and darted through the open door of the clubhouse. He heard frienzied vells of “Joe! Joe!” but he thought they were cheering him. Into the dressing room he staggered. “Listen to 'em,” he jubilated. “Well, that's one time the firemen don't get the cheers!”” There was a clatter of desperat cleats, and in burst Mike Foley, right flelder for the police. Michael was pop-eyed and purple. “The ball!"” he shrieked. You fool, gimme the ball!” He wrenched the sphere out of Mul- hall's back pocket and hurled it through the open window. The short- stop grabbed it and relayed it home. But, alas! the damage had been done; The tying and the winning run had both &cored after the catch was made, and the game was now over For a minute the full force of the catastrophe failed to penetrate the dazed faculties of JoesMulhall. He stood there with his mouth open and his hands at his side. Gradually the color drained from his face. Awaken- ing horror lighted his eves. His tired comrades came trooplng in. They sald no word to him, but one and all flagged him down with Loth hands and the gesture expressed more than words could convey. Officlal condemnation was intrusted to the captal; Colling, that most immaculate of en, who eventually appeared with the sweat pouring down his dusty features and his socks hanging down around his | ankles. ‘I thought there whispered Mulhall The gray-haired apostle of the Mis- sion Station appeared not to hear. He leaned against the wall for support, drew a deep breath and gave tongue. Mulhall, sunk upon a bench in the far corner, was a study in hopeless misery ““The ball! were two out! * ox ok % I was night, and once more Officer Joseph Patrick Mulhall was walking the bullding line of Sanchez street. He seemed to have encountered just such another lonely night as he had experfenced when he joined the force. A slight drizzle was falling, and the sidewalks were deserted. le paused near the closed doors of the firehouse. From this angle he became aware that a light was burning in the office of Con McCarron. The shades were well drawn, but a thin beam showed HE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, OCTOBER 18, 1925—PART 5. FOR AN INSTANT NOTHING HELD HIM TO HIS PRISONER BUT TWO INCHES OF STEEL CHAIN. ahove the sfll. Police instinct pene- trated the fog of his self-abasement. | He tiptoed to the window, peered in | and caught a glimpse of an open safe, door swung wide and papers strewn on the floor. Then his ears caught something that stopped his heart and | froze his blood—a low moan, the| stified sobbing of a girl! The door | was 10 feet away, and he made it in | one bound. The lock gave under the | smash of his shoulders, and he| burst in But Nora McCarron was quite alone. She had been sitting at her desk, head buried fn her outstretched arms. “Nora darlin'!” he gasped. “You're not hurt?" A rosebud mouth trembled, and blus eves filled again. “But I am!’ she faltered. I am hurt, and you did it Joe Mulhall. You promised to take me home after the game, and 1 waited and waited and waited!" “For me!" said Joe. “You waited | for me? N N\ N AN 2% .,‘ AN N The bonehead that lost the game!” His dazed eyes took note of certaln things. Fragments of a fireman's cal- endar were strewn upon the floor. Otto Nelson's shawl was nowhere § evidence, bi in the pink blotter Nora McCarron's lesk lay th ex planation of the n safe—the faded and careft he had given her At the slow trar Mulhall, Nora lowered her head wasn't 'quite sure,” faltered Con's daughter. “until this afternoon. Then when it happened. and everybody was cheering for the firemen, I knew just where 1 wanted to be.” “You mean?” sald Joe, holding out his_arms. ora nodded | “But darlin’, I'm all shot to pleces. | As a hero, I'm a wreck. I'm a de- partmental rufr Nora put he that first day! figuration of Joe 1 ose against the mid- lly kept ghost of the poppy | dle brass b on on his coat. “Never mind, Joe,” she comforted. “You mustn't forget, dear, I was brought up \1!\ the wreckin' business | "Up the | Collins, cod bit as After all, fine catch land I 1 street came Polica Capt ff by now, and just a med of himself. he reflected, “it was a He's a fine police officer, d no business handing him the roi like that! He was prob. ably thinkin' of his girl, poor lad Well, it looks like & double-header de- feat for the police department. Hello, what have we here?” Outlined in the open doorway of Con arron’s wrecking yard stood a | young patrolman with both arms around a very pretty prisoner. The head of the Mission Station walked forward. “That vou, Mulhall? What kind police duty do you call that?” The young patrolman broke away and stood at attention. A glance from the eye of Nora Mc- Carron confirmed the captain's su mise. Capt. Collins' shoulders began to twitch. His delighted chuckle ex panded to a congratulatory: ‘“Dis- missed for the night! Take her home, lad! Hooray for the police depart: ment; we gypped the smoke eaters after all!” (Copyright. 1928.) Queen of Italy Now Trims Her Own Hats Because of Her Large Gifts to Charity BY A LADY OF THE COURT OF SAVOY. OU sometimes complain that King Victor Emmanuel is stingy. He is extremely well off, certainly the richest European sov- ereign, now that the Czars have been exterminated. Yet, not any of the ladies and gentlemen in waiting re- celve presents such as were usual un- der his father, Umberto. and far more lavish under his grandfather. Even at Christmas there are no gifts for the sulte. This has been much criti clized in the aristocratic circles whose members have had charges at the Court of Savoy for many generations. At Princess Yolanda’s wedding the traditional little boxes with sugared almonds inside were voted “mther! poor.” They were silver boxes with the bride’s monogram on the lid. Old | courtlers remembered something very different on such occasions. But, whereas nelther the King nor the Queen give presents to the rich. the Queen is always sending help to the poor. It is a very old custom for the Queens of the louse of Savoy to permit any subject to make applica- tion for money not more than once in two years. Such applications are investigated by the local authorities and if found to come from poor peo- ple are invariably answered by a present of money from the Queen her- self. The Queen’s writing table is al- ways covered with such letters and huge sums are expended in this way, out of the King's privy purse. I have often heard the suites sav: “The Queen gives too readily; she spolls her poor people.” I remember the daughter of one of the stablemen at Villa Savola. The child was threatened with permanent lameness after a bad illness. The Queen not only paid for very costly treatment, such as parents of many of the upper classes cannot afford, but rented a house by the sea for her, as the doctors ordered sea and sun baths. Every whim of the child's was satis- hear peopla PRINCESS GIOVANNA, WHO WILL WED THE BELGIAN CROWN PRINCE. . fled. She had toys galore. Naturall when she was cured, these favors were dropped at once, though the Queen always takes interest in her. Courtlers saild that the child’'s sense of value had been ruined by this ‘‘pampering.” The Queen is extremely fond of children. One day she rang up one of her ladfes and heard from the small boy of the family that all were out but himselt, kept in to do some lesson for punishment. “Burn your books and run into the garden to play,” said her majesty. When the boy’s mother came home she noticed the smell of ways, as they are called at court, jar upon” his sense of orderliness and proportion. A very domestic man himself, who never has looked outside his family circle for amusement or affection, he cannot bear the license of his brothersin-law, one of whom had the effrontery to make love to Princess Yolanda’s nurse. e was promptly sent back to Montenegro. But no sooner had he left than bills began to pour in. He seemed to have set himself up in clothes and trinkets for the rest of his life. But then, even the late Czar of Russia had con- stantly to tighten his purse strings, and the old Emperor Franz Joseph of Austrla complained bitterly about “sponging.” Another cause of irritation between the King and his wife's family was their attempt to interfere in politics. This Victor hmanuel would not allow. On one occaslon when Prince Danilo, the Queen's brother, sent to Rome by his father for the purpose, tried to persuade the King to adopt Montenegro’s viewpoint with regard to Greece, argument was so warm that it extended to the royal dinner table, and consequently was heard by the ladies in waiting and the King’s equerry. ‘T tell vour roval highness that Ttaly means to conduct her own for- eign policy,” said the King. *You will find the carriage ready to take you to the station in time for the 10 o'clock train tonight.” And go he did, thongh the Queen wept and pleaded for her brother. But, though interference in Italian politics was thus nipped in the bud, expenses still will go on in connection with the ex-royal family of Montene- gro. And all those brilliant matches between the Queen’s sisters and arch dukes have, naturally, turned out badly from a financial viewpoint. Had the King not acted with enersv, a large colony of these poor relations would today be either inside or very near the Villa Savoia. ‘But he perfers to_give them pensions. His two daughters need large sums PRINCESS MARIA, YOUNGEST O! THE ROYAL CHILDREN AND PET OF THE FAMILY. burned paper and asked what it was. “Her majesty's orders,” sald the boy, and told what the Queen had said. I once heard that same boy, a great favorite with the royal pair, say to the Queen, “I do want to know one thing. How is it that you, such a handsome woman, came to marry a funny looking man like the King?" The Queen was so amused that she called to her husband, who was busy with his coins in the next room, and repeated the boy's question. And he roared with laughter. All the same, the boy's mother gave him a very severs talking to when the story got round to her. I could tell hundreds of such stor- fes, showing how very human and simple King Victor Emmanuel is, un- der his shy and unprepossessing ex- terfor. The accusation made against him esa can be explained in this WAy @ has enormous family ex- penses. For years and years his wife's family have been running up bills which he ends by paying. He does not like these people. Thelr Slav PRINCE UMBERTO, HEIR-APPAR ENT TO THE THRONE OF ITALY, . Ttalian | of money, even to keep up thefr com paratively simple form of life; f. their husbands are. poor, though Count Calvi di Bergolo will inherit & fortune from one of his aunts. But there is no such windfall in view for the Hesses. The Itallan government does not, like the British, vote a civil lst for all the King's children. Only the heir to the throne has it, and the queen mother. So, if people who know of it, lJaugh that the Queen and her daughters have most of their dresses made by a small dressmaker who lives at Villa Savola, and trim their own hats, buy- ing the shapes in an unfashionable street in Rome, and the trimmings in some other unfashionable shop, they should not forget that no poor wid- owed woman, no penniless orphan, has ever appealed to the Queen in vain. The King works hard for his state and finds relaxation and comfort in his family. Princess Glovanna, who is destined to marry the Belgian heir apparent, is said to be his favorite. But T have never seen any favoritism. Prince Umberto, tall, handsome, live- 1y, is a son any father might well he proud of. His tutor, Admiral Bonal- di, is extremely strict with him, and no wonder he counted the days till September 15, when he became of age, and Admiral Bonaldi retired. Even when traveling in England Bo- naldl did not let him go to the the- aters of an avening or to the young duchess’ little party. “You whistle when you come back outstde my door and T'il let you in and you'll tell me what sort of a tim you've had.” he says to his compan ions when they get out for an eve- ning Now he is of age he will have his own household. and means to enjoy himself, he says. His destined wife is Princess Jose of Belgium. They have known each other for 10 years, as Jose was sent to school fn Italy when the war was on. Jose is very lively and fond of fun, too, and they get on very well together. But Um- berto is in no hurry to marry. He wants to have a little liberty—"like the Prince of Wales,” he says. Princess Maria i{s only 14 and the petted one of the family. There are seven years between her and the next Glovanna. Her mother keeps her always at her sid Princess Glovanna's match will be made for political purposes, but she wants to marry the Duke of Brabant, as she wants to be a queen. And Princess Jose of Belgium wants to be a queen, too. Both of them will make queenly-looking queens, enjoying state ceremonies and as stately courts as circumstances will allow. And this arrangement will be well received by the Ttalian and Belgian peoples. Queen Elena smoothed the way for the Hesse marriage, just as her sister, Princess Anne of Batten- berg, first took Hesse into the royal household when she was on a visit to Rome three years ago. And the King has not thanked her for it, O e = Anyway, They’re Both Working Bride (at telephone) — Oh, John, do come home. I've mixed the plugs in some way. The radio is all cove: with frost and the electric fce h&‘r‘l‘l 'singing “Way Out West in Kansas."