Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, December 12, 1911, Page 6

PAGE SIX Mrs. Jack’s I_fllfipement | By Louise Merrifield &epyright, 1911, by Assoclated Literary 0 Press.) " The Percival Kinneys started the mmor. They had motored out to Edgemere to surprise Mrs. Jack, who was going through one of her period- 4cal grass widowhoods. ¢ Jack had taken a sudden notion he wanted to have a fling at fall shooting in Saskatchewan. “Or was it Kamchatka?" Mrs. Kinney, telling of the whole tragedy later. “I'm not sure. But he went two weeks ago, and [ knew Lenore, poor dear, would be lonely. So Percival said we'd run down and stay the weekend with her. The Clinton Hasleighs had been at Edge- mere a week and over and T knew Lenore would be half dead entertain- ing them. And the Jameses from New Orleans said they were going down for Thanksgiving. Well, that's eeally all there is to tell. \We arrived. The house was in utter desolation— servants gone, Lenore gone! Only the stables intact, and the house- Seeper left. The large touring car wias gone, too. No one Lknows the sruth. In the dead of night a mes- sage arrived by A. D. T. Lenore rose, dressed for traveling, acted ex- eitedly, took her jewel case and furs and the touring car, chauffeur and waid " “But even so, my dear,” protested mused | 4 Lenore alone, perhaps I may be able to help her for his sake—" He paused. The door opened. A i discreet little French maid regarded them demurely. Was madame at home? But yes, surely! They en- tered the narrow hall just in time to face Lenore herself. tent Lenore. Standing before the oval Louis Seize mirror, she was i when she saw her guests. “Why, Carey, you dear old fellow, I'm so glad to see you. And Diane— oh, I have heard.” | She started to kiss Diane's cheek, and noticed the touch of hauteur as the girl slightly drew away from her. “What s it?" she asked quickly. “Come in and tell me. Are you in trouble?” Were they in trouble? (Carey could have grinned at her for her coolness, but he didn't. It was a delicate situ- ation. “Have you heard from Jack?” he asked, gravely, thinking to startle her. “Jack? amusedly. “Why? me if I speak plainly, but I'm the boy’s friend, you know, and we can’t find a trace of him. It looks as if he had taken this thing to heart and | made away with himself i “What thing?" Her eyes were very Of course.” “Why?" She dimpled bright now. “Why- er-- why-——" “Your elopement,” Diane put in, boldly. “My elopement?” repeated Lenore, Kinney mildly, “She may have been summoned to a deathbed.” “A deathbed? Percival, why do you seek to protect the guilty merely because they happen to be social acquaintances? It is a positive fact t¥at Lenore met a man at the Castle- wood inn, half way to New York, and they went away together in her car. Poor Jack! And there's no getting word to him, for we're not sure whether it is Kamchatka or Saskatch- ewan. But I'm really surprised at Lenore. Married two years, and so young.” “Whom do you suspect, Mrs. Kin- ney?" smiled Carey Roberts, Jagk Barton's close pal. “I would not dare to say,” Kenney's brows lifted. “Wouldn't yeu? bothered over Mrs. Somehow I can't feel it. . o They Tralled the First One. mighty straight little girl, and Jack's a prince, I think 1 shall wire Saskat- chean.” He did, but there was no response. The rumor grew into alarming re- ports. Mrs. Jack had been seen abroad with a thin, fair man, reported to be the Baron Gritz Somebody. Mrs. Jack had been observed at Palm Reach pacing the promenade with a short, stout man, undoubtedly sena- tor from a certain western state. Mrs. Jack had occupied a box at the open- ing opera season in London, and be- hind her sat the well-known Italian Marquis So-and-So. Edgemere re- mained closed. The tall, ivy covered uptown house, that had been Jack's wedding present to his bride, was closely boarded up. Rumor stated that. several bodies had been found resembling Jack at various points of the compass. It was late in November when Carey Roberts, whirling around Paris with his fiancce, Diane Boileau, eaught sight of a face in a passing gaxi. It surely was Mrs. Jack, look- ing more beautiful than ever, in a stunning black and white get up, and beside her was a man. His head was turned away, but Carey gave a startled exclamation. “Diane! You've got to trust me. See that taxi. [I've got to follow it. Come with me, and don’t ask ques- tions.” Diane was American bred and French born. She smiled and stepped into another taxi, fresh for the chase. Through the streets and boulevards they trailed the first one, and finally it drew up before a very modest house in a pretty outlying suburb. There was a high wall in- closing a garden. Vines rambled over the house. The windows were dis- creetly curtained in soft lace, with 8ilk beyond. and little window boxes of winter greens fronted them. Carey bounded up the few marble steps. and pressed the electric button. The first taxi was just vanishing around the corner on its way back to town. “Now, Diane dear, listen, no mat- ter what we stumble on leave it to me. I'm Jack's friend, and it must be managed with diplomacy, the whole affair. It's bad enough as it is. JBut if I can get a chance to speak to slowly. “Is that what youn are all saying of me? llow very, very kind.” Sho hesitated, while Carey tried not to look sympathetic. Diane was gazing out ol the win- dow coldly. It was almost too much, the way Lenore regarded her esca- pade. Suddenly she began to laugh, her old, gay little ripple of amuse- ment, and rose. “I want you to meet my partner in guilt,” she said, and crossing the room she pushed back the glass doors and disclosed Jack himself at his desk in a snug library, “Why did we do it?” he laughed, after the storm of greetings. “De- cause we were going too fast a pace, and we couldn't pay up. I knew If we could get away for a few months, I could get on my feet; but keeping up Kdgemere, and running a steady hotel for one crowd after another, was put ting us altogether on the financial Lenore's a | blink, to tell the plain truth, and so we eloped. Didn't we, sweetheart?” “Biggest scandal this year,” Carey returned. “I shall spread it broad- cast. When a man elopes with his own wife, the rights of bachelors must be protected. Diane, this is no place for an engaged couple. You'll be eloping with me directly after the honeymoon, and by Jove, if we could find a nest like this, Jack, I'd do it.* ‘You may have this after Christ. mas,” sald Jack. “We're going home.” SALT AND ICE-MITTEN BATHS This Sort of Bathing Wilk Give Skin a Velvety Feeling and Cure Insomnia Sufferers. Can you swim? Have yop the oppor- tunity? Do it, if you have. It not, fol- low this simple procedure and see how you like it: Take a bowl of coarse salt (not ice cream salt) and put just enough cold water on it to dampen. Rub the skin of the entire body with this mixture until it glows, and then enjoy a full bath, of about 90 to 96 de- grees. Your skin will have a velvety feeling and you will be greatly invig- orated. This salt glow may be taken twice a week. Another bath: Have the bathroom temperature at least 72 degrees, A basin of water containing a piece of ice, a loosely fitted mit made of Turk- ish toweling, and three dry Turkish towels, are the requisite articles. Slip on the mit, dip it in the ice water sev- eral times and rub first one arm untii it is red, then the other; then the chest, abdomen, legs and back in thelr order. The entire body will glow with a healthy reaction; you will be re- freshed and strengthened. Now rub briskly with the Turkish towels until you are vivified and warm with the sensation of plenty of blood in the skin. This bath is called the cold mit- ten friction. Lie down and rest one hour after either of these baths. The cold mitten friction may be taken dally. Of course, it is not to be administered the day of the salt glow. If you are nervous and fidgety at night, if you are bathered with insom- nia, don't take sleeping powders, take a neutral bath; a full bath exactly 97 degrees Fahrenheit. Keep the temper- ature of the bath at just 97 all the time, and remain in it from 15 min- utes to half an hour, or until you be- come drowsy.—From the Designer. The Preacher and the Dog. An aged darky preacher in the south once strayed into a town where he chanced upon two young clergy- men engaged in a warm dispute over some deep theological problem. They finally raised their voices till they disturbed a dog that had been lying by the fire sleeping soundly. At this the old preacher, who sat near by sip- ping a cup of tea, turned and kicked the dog. “Shet up!” he commanded. What has yo' got to say ‘bout it, anyhow? You don’t know no more ’bout it dan dey do!" Hague Needed. Knicker—War is getting too expen- sive to be indulged in. Bocker—Yes, the presents I have to take my wife after we quarrel bank rupt me.—New York Sus. THE EVENIN [ % llor the first time in years, a slow, { pained, one-sided smile, and whisper- But not a penl-l Oh, say, Mrs. Jack, forgive | | LIMPY’S | weascr ! By MiRTHA W, WATSON { bappy, care-free and frankly amused | (Copyright, 1911, by Associated Literary Press) | .- i | | | They brought Limpy into St. Bar- naby’s hospital one cold night in De- | cember. He was as old and wrinkled as a baked apple. For years he had | occupied the same corner near the big | roaster, with a charcoal pail burning in front of him to keep him warm. | py had succumbed to Jack Frost, and it was a wonder even his wooden leg hadn't chilblains on it, the doctor in Ward 9 laughingly told Nurse Alice when he turned Limpy over to her. Alice went back to the new patient, and found Limpy regarding her sus- piciously. “Where's my leg?”’ he demanded, grufily. “I think they took it off downstairs when .they made the first examinas tion.” “[ want it. [ want it brought here, where | can see it. { from him.” “Don’t you worry,” Alice assured i him, happily. “I'll get it for you, rvight away. Of course you miss it.,” She procured an order from young Doctor Meredith, and ten minytes lat- er the old wooden leg stood by Limpy's cot. It was the rudest‘sort lowed out, and a straight peg to rest on. Limpy's eyes rested on it with perfect contentment, when Alice set it beside him. “If 1 die, I'll leave that to you, nurse,” he promised her, whimsically. “It's been a good old friend to me, and you never can tell what might happen. It might come in handy some day to you, too.” Alice laughed as she repeated the old chap's words to Meredith. day, when things Some looked brighter, al..,— “Maybe So, Nurse.” they hoped to marry—some day, when Burton had finished his full course and started practicing. He told her he would go to a small town along the shore, where there was a steady fam- ily call for physicians, and he had even drawn up a house plan for her of the first nest they two were to build. There was much time for wooing at the great, busy metropolitan hos- pital; but sometimes, in the long night watches in Ward 9, the doctor would come in and talk with Nurse Alice. Limpy's eyes were always closed at these times, but he heard many things, things that he had al- most forgotten existed in the hard, cold-blooded world that bought chest- nuts from him. He found that even in the house of pain and death, Love takes his daily constitutional as a king around his palace, and finds his worshipers. But his voice was still gruft when he answered the nurse, and he found fault steadily with the young doctor who was striving to save his worthless old life. One day when the ebb had started the wreng way, he looked up at Alice, Bhe had just smoothed back his gray hair and given him a fresh drink. His shrewd old gray eves watched her grimly. “Good thing that wagon ran over me, ain't it? Ain't good for nothing, am 1?7 Just waste paper!” “We are all good for something.” Alice told him, gently. That's part of the reason why. We have to be good for something, or we wouldn't be al- lowed to help out in the general ma- chinery.” “Have to be good for something,” repeated Limpy to himself. “Maybe g0, maybe so, nurse. Say, you know what I told you. You can have any wooden peg leg there when they cart me off to the dust heap. Don't yon forget, now. It may come in handy vet—" he looked up at her again, and winked solemnly—“to help build that ; house, you know.” | Alice blushed, and wondered how 3¢ knew adout the nest building, and cld Limpy thought how sweet and pure her face looked under the little frilled white cap. Once back in the past there had been a girl sister of his over fn Scotland, a little girl pamed Jeanie, that had died young, and she looked that way, too. Limpy bad very nearly forgotten ker, while he worked at the hard gam2 of getting a living out of the world. He smiled - ]bridge. sitting beside his chestnut | This particular night must have | | been colder than the others, for Lim- | and stood beside the head of the bed 4 This is a fine | © the fully. kind of a charity hospital, trying to ' | take a peor old lame feller's leg away of a substitute, with a large top, hol- | tor. What he | Alice did not know until later. * the last message. . teo, for he believed the old was dreaming. Limpy. “The top unscrews. o her A1 it old Limpy wasn't good for thing alter all. boc. | used to chase thistledown Hass down. aso. ‘All right, old chap. Go to sleep | and rest now. I'll tell her,” Burton | promised, to satisfy him. But after it was over, and in the still night watches they had carried Limpy out of Ward ¢, Alice remem- bered his old crutch. ‘There it still | stood beside his cot, ana she knew it would only be thrown away, so she | took it to her own locker and put it | with her umbrella, and the other | zirls laughed at her sentimentality. At the end of the week, she and | urton unwrapped it up at her moth- lome, and the whole family of «cr brothers and sisters fairly «d over Limpy's legacy. But dector was examin it care- Worn and clijped it was, it was made ot fine )d, and v's lust words recurred to him. i | | What are you doirg, Durton?” ashedd Alice, when she s Liin work- line at the top with Lis knile. And | Ithen <Le stopped short as the doctor { ok ont the last serew, and tio top nited off of the old peg leg. It was Wollow within, but not empty. In- | side were Limpy's savings from the chestnut trade for years, greenbacks {rolled tightly and pushed down in the cavity, layer on layer. “About eight thousand, girlie,” Bur- ton told her, as he and her mother stopped their counting, hallf an hour later. “The old chap was right. Your bread on the waters has surely come hack to you as plum cake.” “It is yours as much as mine,” Alice told him. “Limpy said it was to help build the nest, and I'm going to feave the hospital at the end of the term.” “You'll leave it now,” Burton an- swered, “in memory of Limpy.” CENSOR OF OLD WRITERS J. Milton Is Too Turgid—Dante's a Sensationalist and “Infernc” Man, In view of the condemnation of Shakespeare by an Indiana high school, we may imagine that certain other literary lights of ancient days would be called down by the Indiana cengor in some such fashion as this— provided they came back: “What's your name? John Miiton? Oh, you wrote ‘Paradise Lost,’ didn’t vou? Yes, I've skipped through some of it. Your style 18 too turgid, John. Your action is built on the ice wagon plan, What you need is ap awakener, Get a good rhyming dictionary and reform your dreary blank verse, Milt, and drop in again some time. “And who are you? Say it again. Dante? Oh, you're the ‘Inferno’ man, ch? Well, old top, you're a plain sen- sationalist, that's what you are. In an age when superstition flourished and the black cat racket worked, you might have been well to the front, but who believes in—well, in the inferno, now? Why, say, Dan, your stuff can't even be dramatized! “See who's here! Bless us, if it ain't Pop Homer! We hardly knew you, pop, since we canned the ‘Iliad.’ Well, old chap, there isn't anything we can do for you. In an age that produces Ibsens and Bernard Shaws there’'s no room for preachy Greeks. I know they call you sonorous. In the classroom, however, we found you snore-us. That's a joke. Eh, you can’t see it? Then you are bilnder than we thought. Here's your hat, and the string of your dog. Adios, old chappie.”—Cleveland Leader. Brother a Better Man. The Rev. Tom McKenty, superin- tendent of the Eighth street mission, told a story about himself at a re- cent ministers’ meeting, which was in- dicative of the degree of esteem in which srme members of the “submerg- ed” hold the representatives of the ministry and the law. The clergyman is a brother of Bob | McKenty, warden of the eastern pen- itentiary, and the ministerial member of the family handles many men at his mission who have passed through the | hands of Warden Bob, “One night not long ago,” said the evangelist, “there was a man in my congregation who seemed deeply im- pressed with the service. He came up to me when it was over and told me that he had just been released from the eastern penitentiary. “¢q know your brother there,' said my man. ‘Indeed,’ he continued, ‘I've met him more times than any minis- ter. And, savin’ your presence, I'm not sure that he isn't a beiter man than your rev'rence.’' "—Philadelphia Record. His Condition. “In straightened circumstances, is he not?” “Yes. He confesses that it is about all he can do to keep the wolf out of the garage."—Puck. Rattling the Skeleton. Corrigan (the sudden rlch\—Yu,' time works wouders, Dinny. An’ so ye didn’t know ! had taken up golf? Conley—I did not! I thought ye wor sthill takin' up morthar!—Puck. ed that he wanted to speak to the doc- : told Meredith even ' Good | {ly, fer he knew that Limpy ready in sight of the Delectable | itius, Meredith came, and bent down | i And he | | on't you forget, now, Doc,” said | Tell her | (uke it home with her, and ask | She's a fine | Got a hand like thistle- | back in Glengarie, seventy years Tweedell’s Is Headquarters for Everything in Groceries 1 A FEW SPECIALS Sugar, 13 pounds ............. $1.00 Swift's Premium Hams, per pound ...... e Best Butter, per pound, ........ : g Picnic Hams, per pound ... o Mothers’ Oats, per package..... ... ... ... ... ... 1 Heckers' Whole Wheat Flour, per bag o Heckers' Graham Flour, per bag ... ... ... ... ... §5c Heckers’ Rye Flour, per bag..... ... ... 35 12 pound bag best Flour ....... ... 40 i 24 pound bag, ......... R $0c Fat Mackerel, each 100 Irish Potatoes, per peck .. %6 | Baby Size Cream, 6 for .. 95, I Family size Cream, 3 for i CALL 59 AND WE WILL BE GLAD TO SERVE YoU S TN 0 & 37 E-G. TWEEDELL W, . 5 W Lt e |A Full Line of Dennison’s Seals| LABELS, CHRISTMAS BOXES, TINSEL TWINE, GARLANDS :IC ! For Christmas Packages Our line of these goods will be more varied and pretticy this year. Toys and Holiday Goods of all Kinds | THE BOOK STORE “45 Seconds from the New Depot.” 5 OmE——— —GO TO— CENTRAL PHARMACY Hand Bags, Toilet Scts, Fine Candies, Christmas Stationery, Holly Boxes all sizes, Holly Wrapping Paper, Tags and Cards, all sizes. Lots of things for Christmas. See Our Line before others ————PHONE - 25 e TR i each month at 2:30 p. m Sisters always welcome { ¥RS. J. C. BROWN MRS. J. L. PADRI' K ! * * G. A R Meets first Saturday month at C. E. Dayton's, =o' nessee. J. R. TALLEY. A Lakeland Lodge No, 91 F. & A. M. | 1eets in Masonic Hall every Second | ind Fourth Monday nights. A cor- !ial invitation to visiting brethren. . G. Arendell, secretary; J. L. Love, W. M. The Iron Crown of Ita The historic iron crow! bas played a romantic ro tory of the peninsula [ In the year 594 by the o said, of Theodolinda, th« Lombard king, on th marriage to a duke of Tur The crown is of iron gilt. Its significance w2 lay in the fact that tlv royalty could never he [i- its splendid exterior. Tl: fnner portion was tr: to be one of the long crucifixion. Palm Chapter. 0. E. S. rery| For o long time the p S. meets every { the keeping of the f isecond and fourth Thursday nights at Monza. in of each month. C. G. Arendell, sec-|forth to be placed upon retary; Mrs. Pike Adair, W. M. Charlemagne as “King ¢ « s e bards,” and on later occas ured in the triumphs of '™ and Charles V. Fina * = Lakeland Chapter, R. A. M. No. 29 meets the first Thursday night in | *ach month in Masonic Hall. Visit. ng companions welcomed. C. G. \rendell, secretary; J. L. Love, H. P. * s @ Lakeland Camp No. 78, W. 0. W, { meets every second and fourth Thurs-|ence of all the repr day night. Woodmen Circle nr“’ltate, the l'ore'lmz enve and third Thursdays. jand officers, Naj olecn & ‘('. F. l\en-|emn|’ united it to 0 ‘T nedy, Council Commancer, Mrs. Sal-| prapce lie Scipper, Guardian of Circle. The ‘crown belt the custodian of ! * = @ | representative of the bas iu- The title of “zra 30 | however, pertains to ° order of Cavaliers —Har’ 1.0.0. F. Meets every Friday night at 7: at I. 0. 0. F. Hall ,corner Main and| Tennessee. Visiting brothers cor-' dially invited. J. Q. FRENCH, | & No Exciteme™: H s ..\oble Grand. “A man doesn’t se¢ - : | pleasure in writing let7¢7S o 'after he has married ©'7 K OF P. i T rpted din Ol Regular meeting every Tuesday at 7:30 at 0dd Fellows Hall. Visit- ing members always welcome. F. D. BRYAN, i Charicellor Commander. I.\ M. JACKSON, Secretary. L T {“he seems to I | there is no possib |ing read to a ] Truly Conservat * Talleyrand's |summed up by a U G.LAtoB ofLE I T et aen ¢ Orange Blosscm - Div. No. 499.,1“"9’1.“'d oy have creation, he would b G. I. A. to B. of L. E. meets every | ugood gracious! Chacs * second and fourth Wednesdays of | gtrored!” la cons e