Evening Star Newspaper, September 12, 1926, Page 84

FIRE! FIRE! SUNDAY By Anne O’Hagan | STAR, WASHINGTON, D AND HE WAS SAYING THICKLY TO THE GIRL OVER AND OVER AGAIN OR WAS HE ML TED TO COME TO YOU FIRST, MY DEAR. MY DEAR. BUT I MADE THINKING IT?-* WA A Story Involving Romance, Danger, Sacrifice and Reward. EL of wistaria tapped at | ront window. Lilac scent, | Dpalpa like smoke from a | swinging- censor, ‘drifted into | the hall. And up the stair- way came the voice of Violet's end- of-the-season star lecturer—authori- tative, wea ‘S0 we must thinkabie that our wills, our even ovr standards, should encase our children in a world of our fixa- | tion. It 18 theirs, the world—life is | theirs. 1 say it again and again. Biologically that is all that we are— | the abandoned husk upon the | «round 2 i Philip Malicry, whom the sound of that veice had arrested at the door of his room, above the library where his sister's meeting was in progress, | sighed. His own foreboding at that | very hour! His own foreboding re- | T cience. Hadn't Violet | as importing some * -hiatrist for this final | meeting he Rivermead Mother Teachers Association? He had been right then—at 44 his day was done. lie listened yet another moment to the spatter of gently applauding hands. 1e listened to faint murmur- ings of women relaxed from the 8train of attention. Je listened to a fright- ened mother endeavoring to combat | the psychiatric doom. Violet helped | her. Violet was a dear and patient | chalrman. her brother thought with | tender, amused admiration. ‘L only w it un- tastes, learn to find eminent t ‘; n. | ed to ask Dr. Wade.” | the questioner panted, “If we—par- | ents, [ mean, and teachers, and all of 1 nes—ought to think are only husks—only hu was becoming a chant. but with a | [ mighty effort she pulled out of it— | “economically, too. If it is true that | we are nothing at all bio-bio-hiologi- | cally, but sorgething you'd sweep into | i the dust-pan. how about us as pro- | viders And anyway, aren’t we—| aven't people, 1 mean—middle-aged | people—something Lesides biologista? | ~-I mean something more than bi- | than b : | At jast she succumbed to the over mastering difficulties of speech, but | not before Dr. Wade had extricated her thought from its entangling al-| liances. | “What Mrs. Thorley is asking,” he said. ‘is whether the human adult in that stage of civilization to whick | we have advanced has no other func- | - tion than the biological. It is & fair j . question and i, f‘"{f‘:];‘,‘:,’“v“”’,",\“ o il | 1dvanced with comfortabie, unexciting B kit cwune aound | WEulanty i eklary and i suGhoeky o Siln.c Wit woman. | JHSMBAdenentithe [RETeARIRRTRAIAL ¢ e IiTtioCi0bnTt vou?--couia | eithoutSdim Eulty and wfthout et filte e, o o histrist | Punction. If he died—so his calculation B ol baarnen el sarxony | mncn ElteNinauTance, & heayyione, ok Eosakes was avatiteiynime ) oIl CarER OB adequately. Cor woman, rather short, sturdy, with | iS5 at wonldiicomie Binto 4 1 Glc halr the dark auburn of an irish [ ("W enough, as much as any young man T;y‘.(vm;x a ’):u!]k”n:\:llx(:-mlj;l l\ ot :;:, should nave. Meantime thev lived well. Hiz sister had smiven her el ol .”""fllhil-:[ .nu-:.\.“hifl““*‘ for his son and his home. 1t was oniy ‘_'\".::“:‘.“_e““‘lf‘ IO b ke Vi | fitting that the home should be of Youire Mr MLl atrina: Biake. | Tocompensing ‘dignity snd charm. t, : : | All very reasonable. But tod lock Henning announced that ot organization of the firm was J : them. OId Joe Wheeler w like your mother.” He shook ferring stock and Interest to hi firm, brown hand cordially P ielepsaptist ‘Gone islnter yesterfay | JOUNK o8 JAT EheY AL G from Boston, asking if 1 might come | 3" b 2 U here for ht before 1 sailed. I'm ll;uu‘xun:flfv G going ad tomorrow on the Cedric. | g And I ran into this. I told auntie I | A Beoome Would come down and help dispense | o JOG T I0R oken iy e tea afterward, but not “‘_"“}' Meet- | father nor myself would consider of Bt "“"‘m‘.”“"!‘lfll" e eman at | =il you are ready 1o buy in. But B s e annliany divacationiihae | S ikels LEsD Bl RE 1 Ve Just beptin T seen with you nearly Her nuburn-hazel eves aparkling into | “R.[P 18¢ CUb T, o his gray ones had golden 1 that | £ht But “51’ Sotr might have Leen reflected from her | gitis o 0 Gidrs, vour glinting hair. She was better look- | 5o s ing, Philip decided, than her mother | g oFioian o 1 had been a quarter of a century ago. i p S a N “I'm glad you are going to be with s us, even if it is only for a little while.” | he told her “rn at dinner “Aren't you coming down “No. I have to do some thinkir on being a husk.” He smiled “Well, laughed, turning to leave hin forget that vou are | something 1 a ‘biologisil’"” the concern over 21 ye: < was! Mallor he v I ought exactly her, are! you are upon tr * Henning, brusk at meiliatory once the ves, life is life. your eeps and no club; dif- I've alw | as vou are a business a %o, T think, “Yes, T know vour wide connections have Leen of considerable advantzge to us. But, anyway, as I said, we shan't accept Steige { he makes his remaining with us con- | tingent on letting him in, and he's a HILIP still smiled as he watched | very good man. 1'd hate to see him the swing of her body RoINE|go. But we shan't accept his offer down the stairs. It wouldnt be %0 |if you are ready to come in. bad, he reflected, to be an euiworn | you chell upon the sands of time if one | T W tould have a child like this. But his| His investments were son Corliss—Corliss was another mat- | He and his household ter. Philip’s smile faded. spent the whole of his The great authority downstairs, he | matter now it increased. To raise . would challenge his theory. ! the monev and to repay it would his part he didn't believe that [ mean a right-about-face—a first mort- child was fairly started whose | gage from the bank on the house, parents had not whole-heartedly | something of his life-insurance policy; joved each other. And he knew now | the sale of his few bonds, @ second That what he called his love for Minna | mortgage, perhaps, and. above «ll. a Corliss had survived their marriage | strict curtailment of living expenses only briefly. Poor Min Their | for 5 years—10. Was it worth while? o tiage—he saw it mow with the! On’the other hand. what of aves of kis maturity—had been of her | prospects of being a hired man at 55 ihement contriving. In it he had!at 60. subject to a hired man’s dis leen acquiescent rather than eager.|missals? as later he had been acquiescent to| But, wisdom aside, had The family verdict that he had bet- | longer the mental vigor for ter take the opening with Wheeler | about-face? Could he do it, ‘94 1lenning, cotton brokers. He | he would? hadn't really wanted to go into that| busir Jie had wanted to teach jand e istory of the fine arts, to write f vears. 1t he succeeded in getting et explore Africa—he had had | into College, his father might as weil M ihe mebulous aspirations of all| write an extra $2,000 a yvear to his e men with educated tastes and | budget. And It the boy didn't suc- O rabustly shaping talent. But|ceed in getting accepted. he was not he had fallen little in love with | likely to be much less expensive Minma Corliss: he had married and | A hired man at 60, at 65, out of a settled down because un:;r people | job and an income at 70— thought it a good thing to do. But could a husk—| y ‘s e L arvikEe v e MNP R e st months atter Corlies’ birth, his ‘wife!a husk change its way of life? Were R dled. and again he had acauiesced | not rightabout-faces only for 1he D% his tume in his sister Violet's plea | voung—tor Corliss, he hoped, and for o be allowed o come and keep his | that golden, glinting girl of the Blak: home for him. Violet had heeln | locks? g pretty shp of a girl then, 19. pulsing | That golden-haired girl o . 1ith undirected tenderness and gener- | locks! His thoughts fid\\é‘\l“l':’;l:)fihlh:- Daity. She lavished it all on the baby | She seemed to him what he had never It hadn't been fair to Violet— | seemed to himself—so competent with and it hadn't been fair to COrliss.|life. To have had a wife like that Amer. Philip had acqulesced in it.|beside one from the days of one's Half amused, haif bored he had ac-|youth: - - quiesced in ail of Violet's pretty chi He caught his runaway tho i Training enthusiasms. And what ex- |surprise. How long it ;‘fl‘:' !‘;f‘f:":"‘ figured that my club: referring to them. were et. \We've found them: . he? Could he raise $50,0007 negiigible had always income, np a right even more costly for the next few | | | medley of names and terms straggled |the pretty garb of graceful manners \Sinitred Stoner. self-determination.| He sighed. Life had leen lonely. acts—poor. eager. searching let! jand the kind hostesses who liked o sday o s R OUBIINS e iy iuning o | (0N Hisike it S helamal] f lilacs Katrina Blakelock. must be near (he | ion (nat no one cared whether he sible woman, her mother had been—; STl N YOG achieve. ®e had forgotten all about them, ex n rather better than voung Corl scraps € nal letters noon when, arriving unheralded from things—not even his problem of a son | come home to lay hefore her, for been no complaints about him from | episode. which had caused the Exover really uppermosi in his mind that [ they had escaped from their dorn upon him ! —to T wanted to lay the essential blameless 1o war to be allowed to huy into part g periments. good. bad and indifferent,|had last seemed actually to see n through his recollection—almost 20 and pleasant talk that women wore! Rinet, the sacredness of personality.|In spite of all the little compensa Rut poorer Corliss! | have him at their dinner tables. Lone- on the air made teel depart. That vivid young creature, | o e L end of her tea-pouring. He was glad| choee the old man's course or still 0f friend ¢ ol older sister of a friend of Violet's girl Sl ept when he had absent-mindedly pre- D « dared to hope But he ha home from busi-| Exover. he had found his Aunt Vio Corliss. Perhaps the boy might not | transmission to his father at a propi Exover, the latest of his sct for | authorities to xend him and his chum was the alamming proposition w tory. “borrowed” s —vasily | dred dolla n to a dance, He had always assumed that some | ness of the affair befove her and had not been tried upon his son! A lwoman—the real human being heneath years of them. Dr. Holt, _\!nmespm».i\'nra and vears. the creative intention of destructive|tjons—Violet and the charming house * ok ox x y1v. and he had not known it. But homesick. And there was the realiza the was'to be there for dinner. Sen| Liveq ‘ay being a young man with hosd. The family had moved West INNER had beg tended to listan while Violet read him | He had been desperate in, the after- ness early. not to think about these | let's meeting in full swing. He turn out so badiy after all! There had | tjous moment, his story of the little nearly six months now What was| Venner away.' Two nigh's before Henning had that forenoun sprung|vaiued. he was had subsequently smashed i day, in reorganization of the firm.| nership on easy terms. He had been' pegotlate from her sufficient advance | After | { e % | YWHE five or six years, he had been | Cleveland, until the storm over the | W/ ; | ruined automobile should subside. And | grandfather Corliss’ estate— | life | the re- | offer—though | Are | he any if | And Corliss was going to be more | and | “I WANT TO RISS YOUR HANDS.” HE SAID. <h for a trip to Venner's, out near | his y ans had collided with one of her | deadly, . never-ending meetings Howev Dr. | he overheard as he loitered impatient ly back of the library, had cheered him. He only wished that his father could have heard them, too. Those admirably sane thoughts on making a world adapted to the needs of young life, of fitting vouth with its environ Wade's dic | | | [ | you're | | the | “I TRAVELED FROM BERLIN TO ST. PETERSBURG (LENIN Once Famous Chef to Royal Declined Washington Bid for Services, ment, not with ag No beastly hor- |ing idea of endless education. He thought vaguely of the opportunities |In South American countries—senor- | itas, red blossoms. guitars, prime min- isterships. He thought of tHe rapid fortunes accumulated by Douglas | Fairbanks, Charlle Chaplin— | And then he came down to earth, | remembering that he was caught at | home. where he least wanted to be. Neverthel dinner had begun | rather well. His father, in spite of | obvious astonishment at seeing him. | asked no inopportune questions. The | Blakelock girl, though getting on— she must be 24, maybe 25—was not | yet senile. Dr. Wade proved to be | as gootl an old scout as his views on | vouth and age had led Corliss to ex- | | pect: a little dippy over Aunt Violet apparently, which was farcical, but. | atill. emphatically a good old scout. ! Under the cover of middle-aged lnugh- | ter over some golf tale, he invited | Katrina's attention to the pitiful phenomenon of the scientist's admira- | [ tion. But she, murmuring “How | | pretty she is—they don’t make us like | | that any more,” directed Corliss’ gaze | from the psychiatrist to his aunt. What he saw struck a hollow note of | | dismay in his heart, for his Aunt Vio- | | let's blue eves, starry beneath a faint {1y silvering cloud of soft-brown hair. | fold him that the vassal of his whole | | voung life was bowing at another | shrine than his. Refore he recovered tasteless revelation another The waltress was standing hehind his father and was saving in | tones all to distinet: “Long-distance call for you, siv. The headmaster of over Academy—-" As Philip left the table Violet's eves uddenly seemed normal again and fixed themselves upon her nephew with an anguished apprehension. Cor- liss essayed a‘laugh. but it broke off in his throat. Katrina Blakelock, hu- morous and a little hard, appraised the situatio “Dear | report— “Where | asked Cor “Oh, 1 And, besides, % chock | 0ut without looking like an unfeath- Mom the shock | 000, Y 0 4 00 ping for a parental worm Lovely girl—if only—"Thirteen hun dred dollars’ damage. Not a single crinfinal tendency. but utterly irre- sponsible”—0 schoene Tag The caressing warmth of the after- noon had given place to oppressive heat, and now this dissolved in a crash of Spring thunder and in driv- ing _rain. The music had to cease, unable to compete with the elements. Windows were closed. There was auc- tion for & while. Katrina and the three men played. Violet, who hated cards, still sat at the plano, running her fingers softly over the keys. What pretty brown hands Katrina had! 'The knuckles still dimpled like a baby's. Philip pulled himself up. ITe had become startlingly aware of a desire appearing unheralded out of forgot- ten recesses of his nature, a desire to——. Tmpossible! He had not, he could not have desired to kiss that little dimpled fist. He had not kissed, he had not thought of kissing a w an’s hand in 20 years. And Katrina was a child and he a husk. And he was, besides, a fool to imagine that in her eyes there was a light—under- standing, sympathy, for him. Moreover. he had to make up his mind what he was going to do with this “utterly irresponsible” and expensive son of his. He had come to no decision hy hed time when he called Corliss into his voom for a talk. The boy a {of that blow fell. Mallory, we regret to she gibed. do you get that belligerently teach in a school myself. I have a brother your stuff?” | a | | il, anyway, she had the sense to cnize the whole affair as usudl— Corliss forgave her mockery. PRI Philip came back into the ning room, Corliss tried to d his fate in his father's controlled countenance. He chafed against the social code that forced people to act as though nothing were the matter. He hated the music which followed after dinner. Phillp. however. found it tranquiliz- ing. Katrina sang, Violet accom- | panied her. “O schoene Tag'—pretty | thing, that. And Katrina could open her mouth and let her clear true v championship— | SEPTEMBER. 12, 1926 —PART 5 MYSELF DO IT THIS WAY—I MADE MYSELF DO IT THIS WAY—NOT YOU FIRST NOT YOU MORE—-NOT YOU ANY MORE THAN MYSELF FIRST the incident of the Ellsworth car, the unpermitting borrowing and the dam- age. But he flercely questioned the amount of the claim. And anyway, the accldent had not been his fauit, his and Venner's, at all. Quite the contrary. No lights, no guarding over into the creek—— t's a miracle you're alive, vou two boys,” his father interrupted. His anger had been shortlived. Ie was only grateful that he had him, whole and sound and straight-limbed. “We'll finish this up in the morn- ing, my boy,” he said. “I am nat going to town early.” And then the troubling recollection of Katrina Blakelock’s hands stirred him. He wanted to speak of them, of her: he nted, absurcly, to say her name—" ce girl, that Katrina Blakelock."” he spoke casually, lighting a cigarette “Well,” answered Corliss, indiffer- ently, “she isn't solid iv from the neck north, but 4 didn’t’ think her such a ball of fire. Philip, who had heard without rage that an escapade of his son had just cost him thirteen hundred doliars, grew wrathful. He pounced upon the boy's figures of speech so hard that he departed dazed at the fierceness of his father's guardianship of pure Eng- 1 gusty and variable, kept on. theugh thunder and lightning had ceased. Philip found that vain blew in each window he tried to open. He could never sleep in a closed room But he did, by and by, and it was to he rain, AD) TO MAKE MY ME A DECORATION.” ) Hofiéeholds A, RRY TART FOR THE CZAR, AND HE GAVE D miles for a royal tart? i« the journey once made by Rudolph ~ Karg, former chef of the Kaiser. He traveled from Rerlin to St. Peters- burg (now Leningrad) make the zar a pastry which had tickled the imperial palate. He received an enor- mons diamond as reward. Herr Karg rvecently arrived in America to spend his last days with Eric Karg, at the latter's restaurant. The old gentle- retired frém the cooking He has heen here only a Iy he has had Americans, in + | his son, country {man has busine: | short_while, but _alread | princely offers from | cluding one from Washington, 1o supervise private or goverrmental chefs in the preparation of state banquets. But Herr Karg has said | to every one: “No! T do not want money. T do not want to work any more. My son is enough for me. 1'm | getting along toward K. I only want |to rest.” | So the man who once conducted a { kitchen in which 12 chefs were con- | tinnally employed now sits in a eor | ner of the little frame roadhouse glad o be out of it all. Yet he fs still a vital old man. Short, but firmiy [ built, he walks erect. with the car | viage of 30 vears, and he speaks with all the vigor of life's prime. He s just learning English, which he at | tacks with as much interest as one | would expect from a voung German student. His hair is white. but it is neither long nor sparse, and his com plexion is tanned and healthy. One would think him an active golf-play- ink financier rather than an inhabi tant of kitchens and sculleries Indeed. from the story he tells, the [ chief cook of the kaisers was more or less a gentleman In his own right. | As he expressed it. he was dressed | more often in black than in white. | He did no actual cooking; it was his | | duty to see that everything was pre- | | pared properly. and to plan the ar | ticles of the royal imperial diet. Karg served three German mon | archs, Wilhelm 1 derick and Wil ! helm 1I. Kvery meal was planned by Hert Karg during those thres ¢aigns, and the gorgeous roval menu ard was printed under his directions Theke cards. of which the Karges | stnl xerve the most imporia I give one an idea of the sumpty ness of the imperial meals menu. labeled “royal breakfast.”* luncheon,” or supper or dinner, has | a beautifully en-| [ and illustrated plate. There are in the Karg collection menus for the Crown Prince’s wedding, for |the Kaiser's silver anniversary, and | many other important state occasions. | tThe cakes 1 designed for these great ceremonies stood six feet or | | more high.” says Herr Karg. He has | pictures of these cakes, great pastry | | statues and vases, ately decorated. | {Then each course in the state din ‘ | ners came to the tables with designs \ worked in the frosting or on the food. | Herr Karg excelled in this gastro- nomic sculpture, as well as in the {actual recipes for the food i | Language, in either English or| | French. es Herr Karg when he attempted to describe the pomp and | ceremony of the dinner hour. But he | | conveyed in German an impression {of the brilliant uniforms of the many }axsoiplmnl servitors, the routine | grandeur of the chancellors and at- | tendants to each royval visitor, and | the vaviety of viands and wines con- | sumed at every repast by these con- noisseurs of cooking | At the end of the meal. if any course | had especially delizhted King. | prince or emperor, he would summon |an aide and direct that Herr Karg re ceive a cross or medallion commemo- | rating the pleasure of the royal |stomach. There ix a whole box of these decorations at the Karg heme. | hearing the seais of many countries {on their bodies of heavy silver and | gold. |~ “These courses were scarcely ever | prepared to order for a particular | guest.” said Herr Karg. “They ate | What T gave them. Of course, if the s ; King of England came to the court |1arge banquets, where individual char- I served cutsine Anglaise. Eut the | cteristics could not be found out, | living Kaiser had a great predilection | But other rulers were not long in ifor Doghish cecking diiywhy. § gave | DOBING (helr Jents Enown fo_tke hem what 1 thought they would lke, | GeFman staff. King Edward of Eng- e TE G land, for example, would not enter a N dining room unless there was a bottle Then the old chef showed the d of whisky on his table. s diamond in his necktie. “The eaten my cherry tarts in Berlin.” he continued. “and had ex- pressed great admiration for them. That was all 1 thought about the matter then. But after the Russian court had gone home 1 received a command to come to St. Petersburg and reproduce those tarts f jal banquet Nicholas was giv couree, my expenses were paid received fhie stickpin in addition.” The dietary Idiosyncrases of va. rious monarchs were not always made [ been printed_from | gravea HERR RUDOLPH KARG' FOR- MER CHEF TO KAISERS, W1 HELM 1. FREDERICK AND WILHELM 11 Karg, even though they stayed for weeks at a time with the Kaiser at Unter den Linden or |at Pottsdam. If a king was particu- lar he brought his own culinary de- partment with him. Thus it is to be gathered that Herr Karg never once served the King of Italy, except at | known to Her | Cza L L pleasant employer. The old emperor used to walk in the palace gardgns with his chef, discussing the dishes to be served and bestowing genial praise. Sometimes he would go into the kitchens and encourage the men |at their efforts to produce new and a spe- | {asty repasts. Of | This Wiheim led a life of ease. He and 1{had breakfast at 11 o'clock, luncheon about 3. and dinner late in the eve- ning. But the latter- v Kaiser, Wilthelm Wilhelm I was Herr Karg's most | | l 11, was precise and rigid in uphold- ing the discipline’ of the palace. He never had any personal relations, except the, most official and formal ones, with' hls servants. He lived, however, as he demanded others should live. He was up every morn- ing for an & o'clock meal: had lunch at 1, and dinner at 8 in the evening. Where his grandfather had preferred French delicacies, he demanded plain, wholesome English cooking; chops, steaks, ples and puddings. Herr Karg doesn't mind preparing such simple dishes, but “naturally,” he says, “that sort of thing wouldn't do for any state function. Then we would go back to the French regime.” This keen-minded little man, who has seen almost every royal person- age in the last 50 Y-!nr, formed opinions of their persoMalities as well as of their pomp. “We could tell great men among the monarchs by their kindness and generosity to us” he said. “The wisest and greatest in state affairs were also genial and thoughtful to the smallest person with whom they came in contact. The Russian rulers, for example, always sent us extr: ing the Kaiser or when our court moved to St. Petersburg.” Presents, medals and fame have heen the lot of this great chef from the time he entered the imperial service. He has published “Rook of Baked and Sweet Pastries.” which is the standard manual in roval households. It gives the recip which have served the world's rulers, including President Roosevelt, when the American President made his European tour. Other cooks used to rend to Herr Karg to ask what would be appropriate on some special occasion. He was with the Kaiser until after the World War. When Wil- helm abdicgted he could not pay many of his servitors, hut to show his appreciation of many inimitable | meals he sent Herr Karg his own roval cufflinks, heavy gold W's, sur- mounted by a crown and a rich blue stone. Today Karg is on pension from the German Republic. He doesn't have to work any more. And, rather than receive il respect that is due him in his native land, rather than conduct any steaming kitchens this country. he prefers to sett down at the little frame restaurant in the companship of his.only son. va- | gant presents when they were visit- | in | ELY ANY | dream, not of his perplexities, but of his mother, strong, capable. hard- working. 1le saw her hands busy over a vegetable basket. And wakin soothed and sustained by the old child- ish sense of safety, he thought once more of Katrina's hands, the brown vigor of them, the dimpled softness of them: the promise of competence in their fingertips, the promise, too, of tenderness. * % * % ORLISS was restless after the talk with his father. It was too in- definite—what was the old man going to do? And it was absurd to expect him to be tremulously grateful for finding himself alive and unmaimed Anything else would have heenan out- vage. But when all the pow-wowing was over, what was going to be forced upon him? About schools, work, ad career? He tried for but the a while to’ sieep, with the rain dashing against windows so that he could not open them he found sleep impossible. He, punched his pillows, kicked the blan ket off on to the floor, tossed about. | By and by he turned on the lights | again and got up to look for some thing to read. He found a blue and gilt “Ivanhoe.” With it in hand hel | went back to bed, ignoring a rule of | { his aunt’s that had forbidden him to| | read there, and that had. as an aid to enforcement, refused him a bed ide lamp. The side-lights by the hu rean were remote and inadequate. He | took a branched candlestick from the | mantelpiece, lit its three dusty ant | hitherto unfouched hayberry candles | and settled himself. Ile smoked as he | read, considering that he had long outgrown the prohibition against | cigarettes in bed, and not caring par- | ticularly whether he had or not. lis taste for reading was not strong. e dozed, :dreamed, started awake. Tt was quiet now, the rain was over. But he was too drowsy to get up to open a window. le read again, and by and by “Ivanhoe” slid from his loosening grip and fell upon the blanket on the floor. He slept, voung and beautiful in the soft candle. light, with dark lashes on his cheeks, with sensitive brow, with his custom: ary look of peevish rebeilion gone from his features. And by and by one of the bayberry candles toppled gently down upon the open “Ivan- hoe"—— *x e HILIP awoke again from a new, troubled dream, about what he did not remember. fle felt hea in clined to drop back Into sleep—into stupor. But below the impulse some- thing kept urging him to wake—wake wholly and fully.. He struggled, threw off a welght and then sat ercct in ! bed, his senses suddenly alert. The room was full of smoke. He started for a window-—recalled sharply that to let in a draft might set the place in a blaze. He JerkedYn trousers and coat, filled a sponge with water in the bathroom, soaked a great Turkish towel. Then he made for the hall. Smoke, smoke everywhere. He pounded” on a door across the hall. Dr. Wade, staggering and gasping, emerged. At the new current of air the room behind him was suddenly ablaze. . He slammed the door. In spite of smoke that filled their lungs, that blinded thelr eyes, they ran the iength of the hall. "Phillp entered Violet's room, carried her, dragged her out. delivering her almost_ finert hody to ‘Wade, who bore it on down the stairs. “An alarm, an .alarm!" _ Philip shouted after him. Then he was flercely forbidding the servants to | come down or to jump. “The engines will be here in ‘a mimute with the ladders, hose—you are safe—-" Agaln he was back, pounding on Corliss’ door, opening it. seeing with horror that the fire, with a leisurely, selactive air, had burned all along-one side of the room. But the bed, though obscure in smoke, was not vet ignited. He caught up a rug from before the | bureau. He dragged his son, half suf- focated, out in it, delivered him, too, to Wade. And’ then, oblivious of scorch, of blisters, of pain, he was at the next door—Katrina Blakelock’s. The sponge was wet again, and he held it to her face as he carried her through the burning caldron that the second-story hall had hecome to the front window. Unconsclously he must have heard the clangor of the fire bells, the rush of the engines, for he seemed to he expecting the fireman's helmeted head that faced him on the other side of the glass, tand back!” the man shouted to and_he stood back while the! broad window crashed in. And he was | saving thickly to the girl over and over—or was he merely thinking il “I wanted to come to you first, mv dear, my dear, but T made myself do it this way—I made myself do it this 4 t you any more than myself first— | ness for There" two m n waiting ontside for some 36 ho Corliss. humble e and some hurns. wants to see you Corliss had b door, it seemed He was A new shocked Into manhood. Iie furtively around. saw that no ¢ looking. and stooped and Kissed bandaged head. erving unashamed “If vou hadn’t been Johnny-ont spot. sir—but you were. You dad™ “Always Johnny-on-the-spot™ 11¢ mumbled it. He took it into consider ation. In spite of aching muscles ar throbbing temples and patches of bii tered flesh, he had a feeling of and assurance that he newn in years. It was trie been Johnny-on-thespot Fit task Disciplined. That was Wade had been. too - seasored competent Two good old husks. thought_about it comforiably dozed off again When next he awoke nurse in a tone more “T want a message sen Right away. What's that? sent messages, have they?” but I want a message sent to them just the same. Tell Mr. Henning I have decided te hny in He will un derstand. Oh. is that Violet, my dear?™ It v of contri some o Vites.” he had not He hat for the whit tried Te and he said to the to control my office leen here All right easy Violet in tears of on. Violer beg rliss and his lighted ean all right” he told he me an understand Of conrse that in't needed any wordis “fle's going to work this Sun svervthing settled. Rut tell nie Miss Blakelock, about « “It's for it. mer. " about Kit she's down in the waiting roor She wants— But Corli it But what can he do. Phil “Lots of things. 1 want to gee, V1" Violet went, and Katrina came § She sat down beside the bed Ter uburn eyves looked at him without Violet's sheen of te withant Violet's pity—but with what luok was it? He remembered something sudden! “I thought you were salling for Europe vesterday®" “I am not going. sailing.” Why? he ruthless voung determination of her face wavered, failed. Color flowered over her, up to the line of her bright hair, down to the neck of her blue linen frock. But she did lower her eyes -1-—1 didn’t want stuttered it, inarticulate, fiant ga “Wh Blushing and_an &he looked at his bandaged did not see the bundages at his burned eyebrows and see the scars. “That,” she said inadequately not any of vour business The childishness seemed to satisfy him. “[ want to kiss your ha sald. “Will you please con and let me? dreamed them—"" But it was her lips. shy and bold, that she pressed to his He tried, with hix maimed to hold her away to push her “You mustn't. 1 am old, ve voung. 1 love you, my de are years and years 1 canceled my to go." She hut with de perfec 1 They're no god you. The only thing I was was that you might not hav in love, too. It seemed pres ous—to hope But if it if you have “I have. But hen the only thing sure we don't lose one. not one, of the days that are He tried to fight against w sing left.” the glad | ness of her look. its pride, But he cculd no “We'll be poor as the ¢ a while” he sald, “Poor as the dickens. I'm fresh. At my A husk “A husk!” she bantered. ller was soft and gay and tender. mean a husky——" (Copyright. 1026.) kens endering starting face “You Sunlight and Colors. VERY one knows the danger of mistakes in, attempting to select colored articles in artificial light. Oniy the white light of the sun containing all the elements of color known to us, can be trusted in such cases Lo rev eal the actual hues possessed by the ob jects under examination Starting with the fact photographic dark n ruby-colored light appears white, it when no white light ever is nd that A filled scarlet clo hown that n Then he felt himself hack upon the floor. R [T wes:to a peaceful sense of e {* complishment that he came to| | himself in the Rivermead Hospital. He had had something 1o do—he did not at first recall what it had been— tand he had done it. Oh, yes, he did | recall. But had he done it? He | stirred and was consclous of an fm-| mense pain in his right arm. Then in | his left one also. | At the faint sound of his moving there appeared from behind a screen one (f those: starched and smiling | vouns; women designed before time was to be trained nurses. As he tried | to meet her eyes, he was aware of | bandages on his head. He spoke— | croaked—"Everybody? Everything”" | She answered. beaming: “All right, | every one of them. You and Dr. Wade | had really saved them all before the engines got there. But the firemen | were some use—they saved the house, | Only the second story was badly gut- | ted."” | .“How long ago pered. And irritably: m voice?" . “The night hefore last. A paralysis of the bronchial passages from smoke 11 come back. Don't worry. And ¥ aren’t_going to have pneumonia You got off with a simple coneussion falling again he whis Matter with | | | rarily | movement mitted to a k room the power the eye to distinguish colors is tempo lost and all objects appes various shades of white and black | By mingling blue or green with light the colors of objects can be m: to undergo remarkabte changes. The quantity of light alone also affects the appearance of a color, particilar! certain tints of biua and violet. A Secasick Machine. HE old mystery of the cause of seasickness may be solved ingenious machine built by a Fre scientist to a yze the causes of this ancient malady. The apparatus is in- tended to make such animals as ra bits, chickens, guinea pigs and pigeons extremely seasick on dry land. The creatures used in the test are con- fined in cages at either end of the de- vice, similar to the familiar see.s: An electrical device is to give the cages exactly the s tossing ahout they would receive on the deck of the ship in a violent =ea. The 1 be increased at will. that rabbits, ¢ kens zs are very good sailors ny sign of sea. six hours in much more It was found and guinea y and falled to show sickness after this apparatus sper Daogs | mensitive and at least a third of them succumbed much earlier,