Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, August 28, 1913, Page 2

=) > Undoubtedly you have had con- tention with tradesmen, etc., over bills you know you've paid but haven't any receipts to show—why not avoid these differences and of- ten double payments by paying ALL bills with CHECKS? The endorsed paid check is a legal voucher to which there is NO ‘“‘come back.” Your account is invited—irrespec- tive of its size. THE STATE BANK OF LAKELAND FLA. We are ready to serve the public in our new place, corner Florida Also all our Vegetables are ‘SCREENED’ Avenue and Main Street. W.P. PILLANS “Pure Food Store” Phone 93 Security Abstract & Title Company Announcesithat it is now ready for business,' and can furnish promptly, complete and reliable abstracts of the title to any real estate in Polk County. SECURITY ABSTRACT & TITLE CO. Miller Building, East‘ Side Square BARTOW FLORIDA IF YOU ARE THINKING OF BUILDING, SEE MARSHALL & SANDERS The Old Reliable Contractors ‘Who have been building houses in Lakeland for years, and who never " DOWN" or failed to give satisfaction. All classes of buildings contracted for. The many fine residences built by this firm are evidgnces of their abilityto make good. MARSHALL & SANDERS Phone 228 Blue e T sttt e e L S ) THD EVENING TELEGRAM, LAK rLAND, FLA, A o/ 1. _62" Grace Livingston [lill Lutz UTHOR of "n&m SCHUYLER” “PHOLBE DIANE” “DAWN OF THE MORNING ™ ETC. ILLUSTRATIONS (87 CHAPTER IX, Dunham slept very little that night. ! His soul was hovering between joy and anxiety. Almost he was inclined to find some way to send her word about the man he had seen lingering about the place, and yet perhaps it was foolish. He had doubtless been to call on the cook, and there might be no connection whatever between what Dunham had heard and seen and the lonely girl. Next day, with careful hands, the girl made herself neat and trim with a few materials she had at hand. She gathered her little hoard of money to take with her, and cast one look back over the cheerless room, with a great longing to bid it farewell forever, and go back to the world where she be- longed; yet she realized that it was a ! quiet refuge for her from the world that she must hereafter face. she closed her door, went down the stairs and out into the street, like any other servant on her afternoon out, walking away to meet whatever crisis might arise. She had not dared to speculate much about the subject of the coming interview. It was likely he wanted to inquire about her com- fort, and perhaps offer material aid. She would not accept it, of course, but it would be a comfort to know that some one cared. She longed inex- pressibly for this interview, just be- cause he had been kind, and because he belonged to that world from which she had come. He would keep her secret. He had true eyes. She did not notice soft, padded feet that came wobbling down the street after her, and she only drew a little further out toward the curbing when a blear-eyed, red face peered into hers as she stood waiting for the car. She did not no- tice the shabby man who boarded the car after she was seated, Tryon Dunham stood in the great stone doorway, watcuing keenly the passing throng. ‘le saw the girl at . ( once as she got out of the car, but he he did not notice the man in the bag- gy coat, who lumbered after her and watched with wondering scrutiny as ‘| Dunham came forward, lifted his hat, and took her hand respectfully. Here ¢ | was an element he did not understand.. : | He stood staring, puzzled, as they dis- appeared into the great building; then he planted himself in a convenient place to watch until his charge should come out again. This was perhaps a gentleman who had come to engage her to work for him. She might be thinking of changing her place. He must be on the alert. > Dunham placed two chairs in the far corner of the inner parlor, where they were practically alone, save for an occasional passer through the hall. He put the girl into the most comfortable one, and then went to draw down the shade, to shut a sharp ray of afternoon sunlight from her eyes. She sat there and looked down upon her shabby shoes, her cheap gloves, her coarse garments, and hon- ored him for the honor he was giving her in this attire. She had learned by sharp experience that such respect to one in her station was not common. As he came back, he stood a moment looking down upon her. She saw his eye rest with recognition upon the bhat she wore, and her pale cheeks turned pink. ‘T don’t know what you will think of my keeping this,” she said shyly, putting her hand to the hat, “but it seemed really necessary at the time, and I haven't dared spend the money for a new one yet. I thought perhaps you would forgive me and let me pay you for it some time later.” “Don’t speak of it,” he broke it, in a low voice. “I am so glad you could use it at all. It would have been a comfort to me if I had known where it was. I had not even missed it, be- cause at this time of year I have very little use for it. It is my traveling hat.” He looked at her again as though the sight of her was good to him, and his gaze made her quite forget the words she had planned to say. “I am so glad I have found you!" he went on. “You have not been out of my thoughts since I left you that might on the train. I have blamed my- self over and over again for having gone then. I should have found some way to stand by you. I have not had One easy moment since I saw you last.” His tone was 80 intense that she could not interrupt him; she could only sit and listen in wonder, halt trembling, to the low-spoken torrent of feeling that he expressed. She tried to protest, but the look in his face stopped her. He went on with an earnestness that would not be turned aside from its purpose. “I came to Chicago that I might search for you. I could not stand the suspense any longer. I have been look- ing for you in every way I could think of, without openly searching, for that I dared not do lest I might jeopardize your safety. I was almost in despair when I went to dine with Mr. Phillips last evening. I felt I could not go home without knowing at least that . you were safe, and now that I have found you, I cannot leave you until I know at least that you have no further need for help.” Then | va. 28, 1913 , to some desert 18! | ' | L L 4 s 7¢AY WALT E7 L] COPYRIHT, 19/2, BY o.8. LIPFINCOTT. e Ta voTce full of feellmg. t feel that way. hen 1 did not 8p0 “QOh, you must no elped me just W Z::whwl]mt to do, and put ma in the way of helping myself. 1 shfll] never‘ cease to thank you tor your kindness to an utter stranger. And now I am | doing very well.” She tried to smlle.r but the tears came unbidden instead. | “You poor chold!” His tone was ! tull of something deeper than comgas- | gion, and his eyes spoke volumes. “Do \‘ I think you are doing you suppose artist at serving as well as anything | else, if you try. But now that is all over. I am going to take care of you. There {s no use in protesting. 1f I may not do it in one way, I will in another. There is one question I must ask first, and I hope you will trust me enough to answer it, Is there any other—any other man who has the right to care for you, and is unable or unwilling to do it?” She looked up at him, her large eyes still shining with tears, and shuddered slightly. “Oh, no!” she said. “Oh, no, I thank God there is not! My dear uncle has “Oh, You Are Wonderfull” Breathed. She been dead for four years, and there has never been any one else who cared since Father died.” He looked at her, a great light be- ginning to come into his face; but she did not understand and turned her head to hide the tears, “Then I am going to tell you some- thing,” he said, his tone growing lower, yet clear enough for her to hear every word distinctly. A tall, oldish girl with a discon- tented upper lip stalked through the hall, glanced in at the door, and sniff- ed significantly, but they did not see her. A short, baggy-coated man out- side hovered anxiously around the building and passed the very window of that room, but the shade opposite them was down, and they did not know. The low, pleasant voice went on: “I have come to care a great deal for you since I first saw you, and I want you to give me the ri for you always and the whole world.” She looked up, wonde ring. “What do yvou mean?" “I mean that I love you, and I want to make you my wife, Then I can de- ty the whole world if neeq be, and put you where you ought to be" “gh!" she breathed softly, [ “Wait, please,” he pleaded, his hand gently on her little, trex:zabyl}E: one. “Don't say anything unti] [ have finished. I know of course that this | will be startling to You. You have been brought up to feel that such things must be more carefully and de- libenately done. I do not want you to feel that this is the only way I can help you, either. It you are not will- ing to be my wite, I will find some ather plan. But this is the best way it it isn't too hard on you, for I ]ovo. you as I never dreamed that I could love a woman. The only question {s whether you can Put up with me um,u' I can teach you to love me a little,” Ehe lifted eloquent eyes to his f';cg. Ob, it is not that,” she stammered, & rosy light flooding cheek and brow “It 18 not that at all. But yoy Koy nothing about me. It yoy knew, you wonldnvery lkely think as others do, ght to care protect you against | [ | “Then do not tell me an 1 ythin, yourself, it it will trouble you.g .?oc‘ll; not care what others think, ¢ you have poisoned a husbang, | should .k:’o' th;lt t;: ?eeded Poisoning, ang way I should love you . e and stanq She summoped har courage now,and | -“I-Bare 2ot done anything wrong e — she said 8 “The ou have done nothing gt muprove it to the world, t prove it, we will iy land and live ther: :; ) love. That is the way I 2;)33? ?‘2:1‘. 1 know that you are good and true and lovely! Any one might as well try to prove to me that you were crazy 88 tgnt you had done y in any way. “r}.;l;f face grew strangely whlt'o. «well, suppose 1 was crazy?" «Then 1 would take you and cherish you and try to cure you, and if that could not be done, I should help you berr 3 on are wonderful!” she the light of a great love / n her eyes. ‘r;;:angulre, prosaic walls stood stolid- ly about them, indifferent to romance or tragedy that was being wrought out within its wall. The whirl and hum of the city without, the grime and soil of the city within, were alike for- gotten by these two as their hearts throbbed in the harmony of a great passion. “Dy you think to you could‘learn to love me?" said the man’s voice, with the sweetness of the love song of the wrong, we Will or, if W canno breathed, 5 u wearing the garb | ages in its tone. -ell when I see you wearing the & ge! = ! :rdw meniel and working for people to | “[ love you now, said the girl's low wh‘om you ar § ~—people | voice. “I think I have loved you from who h\':.Il the 1ts of education and | the beginning, though I neve.r dared rnfinu{m nt ought to be in the kitchem | to think of it in that way. But it would sn'-r\'in: \lu‘u"" not he richt for me to b‘fcome your “It was the safest thing I could do, { wife when you know practically noth- i ally the only thing I could get| ing about me.” and really the cnly thing ‘ to do at once,” she tried to explain. “Have you forgotten that you know “I'm doing it better every day. nothing of me? i hm’t? no doubt. You can be an| “Oh [ do know something about you,” she said shyly. “Remember that 1 have dined with.your friends. I could not help seeing that they were good people, especially that delighttul old man, the Judge. He looked star- tlingly like my dear father. Isaw how they all honored and loved you. And then what you have done for me, and the way that you treated an utterly defenseless stranger, were equal to years of mere acquaintance. I feel that I know a great deal about you.” He smiled. “Thank you,” he said, “but I have not forgotten that some- thing more is due you than that slight knowledge of me, and before I came out here I went to the pastor of the church of which my mother is a mem- ber, and whigh T have always attended I'and asked him to write me a letter. He is so widely known that I felt it would be an introduction for me.” H- laid an open letter in her lap, and, glancing down, she saw that it wag signed by the name of one of the best known pulpit orators in the land, and that it spoke in highest terms of the young man whom it named as “my { well-loved friend.” “It is also your right to know that I have always tried to live a pure and honorable life. 1 have never told any woman but you that I loved her—ex- cept an elderly cousin with whom I thought I wa$ in love when I was nineteen. She cured me of it by laughing at me, and I have been heart- whole ever since.” She raised her eyes from reading the letter. “You have all these, and I nothing.” She spread out her hands helplessly. “It must seem strange to you that I am in this situation. It does to me. It is awful.” She put her hands over her eyes and shuddered, “It is to save you from it all that I have come.” He leaned over and spoke tenderly, “Darling!™ “Oh, wait!” She caught her breath a8 if it hurt her, and put out her hand to stop him. “Wait! You must not say any more until I have told you all about it. Perhaps when I have told | ¥ou, you will think about me as others do, and I shall have to ran from you.” “Can you not trust me?”" he re- proached oy “Oh. ,es, I can trust you, but you may no longer trust me, and that I cannot bear.” “I promise you solemnly that I will belleve every word you say.” “Ah, but vou will think I do not know, and that it s your duty to give me into the hands of my enemies.” “That I most solemnly vow I will never do,” he sald earnestly. “You | need not fear to tell me anything, But listen, tell me this one thing: in the eyes of God, is there any reason, phys. { feal, mental, or spiritual, why you should not becoms my wife?” She looked him clearly “None at all.” ol e “Then [ am sati ' without he s g wards.” “n Jut T am not satisfied. It | am to 8ee distrust come into your eyes, it must be now, not afterwards.” 4 “Then tell it quickly.” He put out hjg hand and took hers firmly into hig ow e e, L, a8 if to help her haye take you aring your story until after. L (To Be Continued.) Fad of the Season, ln:o:‘dn:; tl!;: season is the wean silk stock bl ab ckings with black nd sm Ings in the fine threaqd l(:lk: :::}v, ':I.:b even a more airy apq dlaphnnw: - :entlon that sheer black hose, for the esh tint ig quite visible throngh the ::leol:. . 'l’:eso gray silk ashionable now black z:n;::m than with pumps of s'::yh suede ordiotn, which are not used now for pnmmg Promenade wegr, The smart withp Is season jg of patent leather 8 sparkling eyt steel buckle at the pump rises well Very popular also w] making the foot r::: m‘tx.lhd which comes- tn dull ki a buttoned top of wear, d or black satin, for dressy LW. Vo) Buccessor t, W TRANSFE Draying angd Haulpyy , Prompt ang Regyy, Glllnmfl i Phone 57 Greep SAVE TIME ¢ HALF TONES MCx: | Palm Coapter, g, £y second and fourty Ty ot eaCh nonth at T Flora Keen, W, ¥ .". United Brotherhooj and Joiners of Amyiy Lakeland Lodge I &. Regular commupy, second and 4th Mongy & Visiting brethmy ited, J. C. OWIy LT W K o Regular meoting at 7:80 at 0dd Felom \ng wembers alwap rD Chaucelle + W. _ACKSON, Seem POST 2%, 6.1 Moats the firac datn aonth at il & omo& . M. Sparling on Kenj A, C. SHAFFER, J. R. TALLREY, Lakeiana Chautr 8§ meats the first Th sach month In Mavwl (ay companions Wl Leonard, H. P.; J.F. T Lakeland €amp No'l meets every Thumis men Circle first andt afternoons at 3:00 (¢ Ettridge, Council Cox tala Hobb, Guardisnd P0LK EN CAMPMI;%’I Polk Encampment | £, moets the first & days. Visiting Patii F. A McDONM #, B. ZIMMERMAN, Chief Patriarch @1 A todd Orange Biosson U &1 A w B. of LI soond and fourth ¥ sacs. month at 3:30} sisters always welod MRS, J. C.9 Moota every Tuwdl yelock, at McDonalll Blnora Rebeksh weots every second B day nights at L 0.0 g brothers and iavited. i MRS, T. E. ROBEM MRS, GUY AREN? c——— I Lake Lodge N meets Friday uist! 3. 0. F. hall. Viitd 1y invited. sordially ; R H, B 2 PLASTERERS B4 BRICKLAYERS X4 UNION, LOCAL N0 Meets each '(1;3 Morgan & % Bates’ Dry 6008 brothers wol‘: R. L. MARSS 3. W, LATY