Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, December 16, 1914, Page 5

By ARTHUR CLEVES. ‘.'lllll Mi&md kimself upon his d. staring at the wreck of the train /he Bad been traveling. All 1ay the dead and ‘injured, d the: m. which were begin- illumined the night nddla of the moun- Penncy.vania. Dris- ttle town in Iilinois ork. It was his first yclrs A discovery of =1 w) property had given him ‘10 promise of wealth, und he had set ‘ut to megotiate with a company. - Jim Driscoll, at fifty, was reputed ‘ae crabbedest old man in Boxville. .t Mary and he had had children he ‘2ight have diseovered that life is not ‘tholly & vale of tears. As it was, he fas & town character. He knew it, 00; knew that Mary shrank from him ad feared him, though loyalty kept e to him; knew that his presence chilled the mirth, that the hildren ‘hated him, that his neigh- _ayotded him. i im it. He had the repu- ‘s vindictive man, and he that. He was close-fisted, ) an@ he hugged his sin- Mion to his heart, hS: YTeeK had come suddenly. gty him. Of course, i It he M unsettled the habits of for the first time in years to take stock of him- /saw a pretty little girl of | was stretching out ! ok 0 ) | and sobbing. ‘% hard er in one respect.' That was why he “\w T i I I i 7 -l ¥ Wlfec Face. he could have .;j%’“' grufily to the little girl, but sbe dld not seem to notice his had a 1 Bo8. And at last, with a shrug of joulders, Driscoll turned his vay—not in the direc- ear. tion of New York, however, but back toward his pome. A new idea had come to him., He would pretend that he had been killed in the wreck, and return home sccretly, to discover what people were saying about him. He anticipated the jeers, the scoffing and congratulations, and his own triumph when he suddenly appeared in the midst of (bem. . The news of {La disasber had spread c v= iilles down the line, a wrecking train, with ettached. Behind it, de track, there came v, who pulled up bis a medical along the wa a man ina b sweating st op shou g seon the wreck?” he I “T was a newspaper man,” other. i an- “Give me a short rest my horse. will down as ‘Say Jiin Driscoll of Boxville, 111, was killed by breaking hig neck, because | 1I'm nect a-gcing to brepk the news to his family.” The vargain was struck and Dris- coll gave the other a five minutes’ account of the wreck.' Then he hur- ried along the line. He caught a branch train at the Junction, and finally, about eight o'clock the next evening, attired in a shabby suit which he had purchased at a pawnbroker's, he made his way if you'll dead,” put Jim Driscoll '"in the dark through the streets of Boxville. Nobody who passed in the gathering darkness recognized Dris- coll in the shabby, slouching stranger. He pushed open the garden' gate ' and crept to the outside of the par- exterior Driscoll | 10W." to hide his feelings. | months’ lor window. Inside he saw a small crowd of neighbors, but his wife was not thero. fhts were changed by hen.r-l “It'll be a hard blow for Mary,” one ery at his side. Stooping Of the crowd was saying. “Poor Jim!" Driscoll recognized him as the local mine years, lying beside the druggist, with whom he had been on ‘sar her lay the body of a bad terms for vears. Bad been killed in the dis-| fists. M girl, who seemed only. even more than himself. He clenched his He hated the man's hypocrisy “Now there's many talks against Jim, but he wasn't fuch a bad fel- broke in the shoemaker. He , was a man named Austin, with whom Driscoll had had a feud of several standing, on account of a business misunderstanding. “Whena man’s cranky folks makes allowances for him. I tell you, a man who can keep the love of a woman like Mary Driscoll must have some good in him —it stands to reason.” “It's a pity there wasn't no chil- |1 { dren,” sighed Miss Hemans, the sis- | ter of the butcher. | into their hearts like acid. “That's what ate But 1 | guess that if he lives Mary Driscoll will be so overjoyed that life'll take on a happier look for her.” “No chance of his recovering, there?” asked Austin. “A small one,” said the butcher. is { “The doc says that if he recovers | well. consciousness he'll most likely get It seems there’s a splinter of ! bone pressing on his brain, apd they i can’t tell how much it's injured him. ‘If he consciousness, the it he don't—well, he recovers brain’s all right; won't, that's all.” “Did Mary Driscoll write that?” | asked another. “Sure. She wrote to Miss Hemans here.” Jim Driscoll was conscious of min- gled emotions. The first was of shame and humiliation. Of all the neighbors gathered there, not one had a bad word for him. But the second was of disgust. Could it be possible that his wife had gone to the hospital and actually mistaken another man for himself? Or was somebody lying? a more probable explanation. That was ot have a most beautiful s-lection of Gifts for everyone this We tried to buy just the nicest things we could and gotthem at prices that cnswered Driscoll. | course! It was a lie. His fmpulse was to run into the room, but he re- strained himself, and he heard an- other speaker say: “I tell you, Miss Hemans, when I saw Mary Driscoll start cff this morn- ing, she looked actually pretty in that black dress of hers, in spite of her sorrow. She was crying, and she couldn’t hide it, but she looked like a girl again. Sorrow seems to bring back the youth in some people.” “She’s had sorrow enough,” broke in the first sneering voice that Dris- coll had heard. “Living with a man like Jim is enough to make any wom- an wish she was dead.” Driscoll knew the speaker. He was the cashier of the local bank, and about the only friend he had in Box- ville. And the sudden realization of the fellow’s treachery almost un- nerved the watcher at the window. He, Driscoll, had been so wrapped up in his hatred and moodiness that he had never been able to tell his true friends from the false ones. He had acted like a fool. An overwhelming sense of remorse came over him. It he could see Mary now, and tell her what a fool he had been! And, unable longer to restrain him- self, he sprang for the door, opened it, and rushed into the parlor. “I'm here, and I've heard every word!” he shouted to the assembly. “You, Mr. Nevins—" he turned to the cashier—"“were my best friend, and you can walk right out of my house and never come—" “Well, Jim Driscoll was a good man in his way,” said Miss Hemans, wip- ing her eyes. 7 They had not heard him! Nobody had heard or noticed him! And, even as he stood there, bewildered, Nevins | walked straight into him—and through him! In an instant Driscoll understood. . He was dead! He had died in the ' collision, and he was in his own home ; in the spirit, while the mangled flesh lay—in the hospital, no doubt, where his patient wife was watching! “I agree with you, Miss Hemans,” the butcher answered. | Jm Driscoll turned slowly away,| and, with the realization that his last }chlnco to redeem his life was gone, THE EVENING '.I'mfl IAI’ELAND FLA., DEC 15, 1914, an agonizing sense of hopelessness crushed him. “Jim!” Jim Driscoll opened his eyes and stared into his wife's face. “0, thank God, Jim! You are con- scious. You are going to get well. Jim, God has answered my prayers. I have prayed for you night and day | these ten days past, and the doctor said if you knew me again you would recover. Jim, my dear—Jim, O, my dear!” And, kneeling at the bedside she neck. “Jim, everyone is talking about it,” she sald later. “About what?” whispered Driscoll feebly. “The little girl in the next bed— look at her, Jim! Don't you remem- ber? You pulled her from beneath the car which had fallen on her fa- ther and killed him. Nobody knows how you freed her, but it fell back on your head and injured you terri- bly. And, Jim—" Driscoll could read the hope in his wife's eyes. “Yes, my dear,” he answered, pat- ting her hand. “If you like, Mary.” “You'll adopt her, Jim? She hu nobody in the world.” And that time Mary Driscoll read the answer in his. (Copyright, 1914, by W. G. Chapman.) We admire a man who always laughs at our jokes, and never tells any of his own. Old men have visions, young men have dreams. Successful gards sleep. Whatever change farmer makes, it is bound to be for the better—it couldn’t be for the worse. The soil is like a man’s bank account. It can soon be exhaust- ed by withdrawing and never de- positing. l l | it iy | The growing of legumes will retard soil depletion and greatly add to its power to produce. ! Education is a developing of the mind, not a stuffing of the; memory. ])lgt:l what _\ou read. | you and ever yone can afford. We Have Something For Mother Sister Brother Cut Glass Box FPaper Knife Brass Goods Whist Sets Shaving Sets China Cameras Bill Bo Leather Goods Desk Sets Fountain l'un Baskets Tollet Sets Whisk Brooms Box Paper Manicures Novels Card Trays Late Books Smoking Sets 4 Hand Bags ires Hair Brushes £ Books, FEte. Ete., Ete. Ete., Etc. 15 " .§. et and also for the “other fellow” % Games | A Waterman Fountain Pen Baskets @ A Safety Razor Set & :; 9f al] A Traveling Case ‘ Of, a” Kinds and hundreds of other things Kinds Wcflull be glad T Cl : C ves2d The Shaw-Clayton Stationery Co. H a Phone 251 514 Franklin Street Tampa, Fla. g DD dddddddd SBEBPPETEIEEFOPPIERRETOTEIRTILESLFFELSUES L4210 L0004 the tenanti flung her arms round the sick man's; | | 1 . home to camp.” farmers plow deep while slug-, | ! 18, I must hurry back, since my time ' {8 not entirely my own.” | then and the lone fisherman watched her out of sight. HELEN INTHE COUNTRY Don’t Forgei--- Christmas Will § By HARMONY WELLER. (Copyright, McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Helen had not dreamed, when she opened her morning paper that she was to find there- in the means for her summer holi- days. She was a seamstress, and it was not always easy to save suffi- cient money to squander on holi- days unless she could find a pa- tron or two among the summer col- ony of the people who was liberal However, the small advertisement in the morning paper solved Helen's problem for her and promised a much needed month in the mountains. “Jimmy!" she called to her brother, who had not as yet left his office, “listen to this chance for me to get into the country for awhile.” She read the lines to him. *‘To Dress- makers—A splendid holiday at Cha- teaugay, in Adirondacks, for one . month; board and lodging free in re- turn for making a few summer . dresses. Mrs. Drake, Amble Cottage, Chateaugay, N. Y.' There! Isn't that - a dandy opportunity for me and you can have a glorious month of bach- elordom.” She hugged her big broth- er in an ecstasy of excitement, and went over to her desk to write a hurried note to Mrs. Drake offering that lady her services as a seam- stress, Two days passed before Helen's re- ' ply came, and still another before she ' could get comfortably packed up and started on her way. | Helen had not been in Amble Cot- tage two days before she knew the | real state of affairs. “It seems,” she wrote to her broth- ' er, “that the Drakes had not expect- ed to meet anyone whom they cared to cultivate, up here in the mountains, but Enid, the daughter, has made | the acquaintance of one Mark Austen, who has taken the camp next 3 and clothes are needed in urry to ensnare the said Mark, It seems, from all I can learn, that he is a most | eligible catch. Hence it is Mr. Aus-| ten of Camp Fire that I must thank | for my lovely holiday—isn't it?" It was during one of Helen's ram- bles along the edge of a trout stream that she came suddenly upon a fish- erman. Helen would have quietly passed him had he not turned laugh- ingly toward her. “I suppose there is not the slight- est chance of your having a match with you?' he inquired boyishly. *“I had the misfortune to drop my box in the stream while bending over this beauty.” He drew up a rainbow trout for Helen's admiring eyes. “] often make my tea in the woods,” | & she told him by way of explaining the | 2 presence of masculine equipment ln'w her own pocket. “By jove! I am the lucky dog,” he commented. “I suppose you often take this walk before breakfast?” he quer fed with appalling disregard for the conventions. “I fish here rain or shine every morning from six o'clock to' lunchtlme; and since I am no good at making tea or anything, I have to go con Be Here ---And you have not bought those presents as yet We have besutiful Bath Robes with Slip- pers to matzh for $5.7 Ties and Socks to match from $1.00 to 1.50 a Box Cur Fart Schaffrer and Marx Suits are selling betier this Fill than last. Now is your time to ge: onc. Also, o.r Boys’ Suits are extra good in Quality and Low in prices. Come in and look over our S:iock and convince yourself as to Prices and Quality of our Merchandise. The Hub THE HOME OF Hart Schaffner and Marx Good Clothes %% Don’t forget to ask for your Calendars for 1915 o iy i JOS. LeVAY s ! 3 ] { Fancy Xmas Fruit Shipped to Any Address o h, o Oranges, Grapefruit Tangerines, or Mixed Boxes “1 only walk here when the fnncyl ; pleases me,” she told him with only |2 a slightly elevated dimpling chin. “Good morning,” she added, and would have turned on her heel save: that she slipped on a wet rock and |} would have fallen. i “There,” he sald catching her, “that is what you get for behaving | o abominably to me.” He put her carefully on her feet then and re- sumed his fishing. could do nothing most lovely smiles. “It was good of you to save me from a ducking,” she said, “and if I had been properly introduced to you | 1 would be delighted to cook some of those beauties on a camp fire,” she pointed to his basket of trout. “As it | 3 ? o Call on us Phone 281 Mayes Grocery Co. B BB IO BB i .xu...wmg. 'm'wfififlmfl@m@*‘b%i' La 3 She went His catch that morning was excel- lent. They were piled so high in his basket that he stopped on his way home to offer his ncighbors a dozen for their lunch. Enid Drake met him on the wide veranda of Amble Cottage. “Oh, Mr. Austen, you disreputable person,” she exclaimed laughingly, as she viewed his great boots that were muddy and his old flannel shirt that was weather- beaten from many T2 Neverthe- less it was her best smile tH Lower Prices on Ford Cars [iffective August Ist, 1914 to Augustist, 1915 and guaranteed against any reduction s_!nring that time. All cars tully equipped gave him, for he was the most elig- _b. Detroit ible Mark Austen of Camp Fire. - The smile was completely wasted Ru"la_bOlIt ......... $440 on Mark Austen, because at that mo- Touring Car ........ 490 ment he caught sight of a sunny head Town Car. . ..690 bent over a pink something that she was sewing on. The next letter that she sent home to her brother ended with a long paragraph of eulogy on one Mark! Buyers to Share in Profits I Al retail buyers of new Ford cars from \ugust 1st, 1914 to August 1st, 1915 will b share in the profits of the company to the “Ho foll in lovk with me instead of | extent of $40 to $60 per car, on each car Enid,” Helen wrote. “He is fright- they buy, FROVIDED: we sell and de- | tully impatient, and it looks as if you | liver 300,000 new Ford cars during that pe- will have to keep bachelor flat until ~od. Ask u= for particulars | such time as you find the right girl.” | =~ FORD MOTOR COMPANY lLakeland Auto and Supply Co. "OLLK COUNTY AGENTS. Unkind. “Dearie, I've long had something on my mind.” H “I wish you wogldn't brag so, l-‘red-. erick."—Detroit Fyee Press.