Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, January 5, 1915, Page 7

from Dorine. It was Saturday night at the weekly dance that he deter- mined to talk with her. He waited for her at the big dou- ble door leading into the ballroom. He haq fully decided to force her to listen to him. As she came down- stairs, lovely in a white dancing dress, he met her face to face. J ) WAS THE GOAT? y DOROTHY BLACKMORE. you put it in water on your desk | ble as she pinned a marigold | er, Dorine. he coat lapel of young Doctor om. do it and you'll see me wear pme every night while it lives,” = n Have it with me now. € put his arm about her and they §tepped off together in the hesitation well as partners. | my coat lapel. waltz they had learned to dance so| G TELEGRAM LAK ELAND, FLA., JAN. 5, 1915. ———_—_—————————————— to me. The morning you gave me that flower I was called out to the estate of Mr. Phillips to see what was the matter with the foot of a very fine goat. While I was looking at its foot the animal chewed my flowe: off and the stable man who was with us roared with laughter. If you doubt [ this, I wifl show you the withered 1l keep fresh for days,” said Dorvé “This has been our dance all sum. ' stem still pinned to the under side ot I had not put it in wa- ter on my desk, but was still wearing it. Now, do you see how badly you have treated me? Do you, Dorine?” “And—and it wasn't because it was toward her swept over him, ana ne /| Jim,” she said, authoritatively. reached out for her hand on the bridle rein and crushed it in his own big, rough paw. Once he rode near enough to bend over and kiss her cheek. When they reached his shack at last Bonita had become diffident. She protested feebly that they ought not to go in, but she was tired and hot and allowed herself after all to be lifted down from her saddle and al- most carried in the house. It was a one-room shack of rough lumber, with a lean-to kitchen in the d the doctor. “And for good be- r perhaps you’]l do me the hon- pinning on another?” When the dance was over he led her out through the French windows that opened onto a secluded veranda. yellow, then?” she asked. “Search me! Maybe the goat was rear. There was a bed in one corner with ne nodded. Her dimples played her mouth when she smiled and ight of them had become a very sting part of Doctor Hanscom's per sojourn at the Laketon hotel. as a young veterinary surgeon his office and visiting hours were png, so that he had had the advan- over many of the summer men at otel by getting home early. And med alu;nost as if Dorine waited | why 1t m on the tennis court eteran B CHLIL IR Shie e B e en:: tthmes on the suburban train | ¢ ”\‘:];::d ,h:’"' i 00 m to the city h —let me tell you! Let me kil tase n Bhgyhas :‘;::g:; !shqw you that I realize all about it :;ut ““" limehf]lcwer on his coat. ?n;l(;»r‘nn;\;ultx tell mefl,\‘nulr excuse.” She evening while he was at din- .., “7PRasis on the last word. orine carae inte the dining r:(:; George—my brother—told me when her mother, and they both wore he saw me pinning it on you that you Bhith soatunses. | Would never be seen wearing a yel- ne gave him her lu_'.\' flower—that it was the emblem Si6 Dod, and then of ”"f suffragist! So you let some coat lapel, which was guiltless | °1° Tidicule you out of it brnment. A slight flush burned jheeks and after that she gave pnly cursory glances, and when ked her to walk with him as he i her in the corridor she de- almost frigidly. “slt down,” Joe said, drawing up a chair. Himself, he sat on the railing facing her. “Now.,"” he began, “what is the mat- ter? Why have you deliberately avoided me for days?” He paused. 1 know—it was because you thought I was careless about vour flower— that I had forgotten it.”” ."\'Du were—you d.d,” said Dorine with asperity. “And I know very well usual bright her eyes fell pin it on you because of my views are very strongly in favor of it—but like you, and 1 always give father founds s though each time a cool little nod RS OSOE0HOEE000 § 08004 O 1000 ust Because Christmas Is Over no sign gnod Things to Eat are not in style, especially during the remainder of the Holiday season. e have Turkeys, Chick:ns, Country Hams, Pound Cake, Fruit Cake and many other Delicacies Try Richelieu Can Goods They are the best money can buy. Farmers and Truckers will p'case remember I am head rters for SEED POTATOES and all other Seeds. D. B. Dickson QFOSOHHPOPOPOFQOTOBOTOIOF PECIAL DALE For THIRTY DAYS we will Make a Special Sale on the New Improved White ptary Sewing Machine Thirty Dollars Cash Just one-half the usual price Takes one of them ng Ty on Don’t let this opportunity pass without plying your needs. The quantity is ited. Come at once. When they are e we can’t duplicate the order. We need THE CASH. You need the ¢hine. Our interests are mutual. Come let us Serve you. ———— A\RDWARE CO. I did not | on this woman question—though they | because T was beginning to—well, to | FICK missionary. | we and George a buttonhole bouquet when | three days he did not have ‘they leave in the morning. I—I was | sation with her. He saw her | L5 f00li*h t0 do it,” she said. the dining room with her fa. | DoFi"¢ Fable, listen to me” the jother and brother, and he re- young man said, earnestly. “This funny I can hardly tell you, | LURE OF STRENGTH sure you it isn't funny | g ! H H i AOEAALDBOLABOILSOEOBO ————————————————————————— an antisuffragist, but I'm not respon- sible for his views. Seriously, Dorine, 1 aren’t you sorry?” Dorine nodded. And then Doctor Hanscom whis- pered three little words in Dorine's ear. | Found Worms for Her to Eat. African jungle people are not very | particular concerning their food, says i the Christian Herald. One of our mis- sionary ladies was down with an at- tack of fever some time ago. This was a source of sorrow to the poor, unlearned, yet sympathetic natives, who in their own way aru.rcall,\' com- passionate and want to help. One of these “bush mammies” tried to ex- press her sorrow because the “white mammy missionary” was so ill. After a time she left the station with a bright idea in her head, and started for the jungle. A little later she re- turned with a large tropical leaf frora one of the trees. Upon it were sev- eral big crawling green worms, which she had caught and brought to the She thought they 1 eat during her illne: By IDA SPEED. (Copyright.) They were about half a mile away when they saw the cowboy at the wire ence waiting for them He had dismounted and was stand- ing by his pony feeling a little nervous for about the first time in his cow- punching existence. J Bonita was so young. He could see ) from there how erect she sat her little blue pony, and he knew how fetching- 1y she could look at one from beneath that turned-down Mexican hat. All the long afternoon she'd been glancing at him thus, and after that— something caught in his strong, mus- cular throat—after that she would be his beyond the power of law or pa- rental persuasion. He could see her little gauntleted hand now raised above her head in sa- Inte. He waved back and presently jerked loose the three strands of wire which here stapled into the crooked cedar post and stood on them while she rode out of her father's ranch properties. “Let 'em up, Jim,” said the homely, bald-headéd man who had accompanied her this far. “This lets me out. It's me for the ranch.” “Good-by—oh, and thank you, Daldy,” said the girl, smiling at him. “We'll do as much for you some day.” “Be good, and if you can't be good, | be pretty,” admonished Jim, as he| mounted. | “Adios,” called Baldy, ignoring his friend, “and good luck to you,” and jabbing his spurs into his pony he | was gone in the direction whence he had just come. | The man and girl rode on toward the south. He looked her over af-| fectionately. She rode true western fashion, well back in her saddle, heels down, and toes pointed out. Behind her a bundle was tied by the leather thongs of the saddle. “Beauty,” he said caressingly, “did you have trouble gettin' away from Mil and stepmother?” | “Not a bit,” she said, and tossed her head. “Baldy called to me to come | ahead if I was goin’ to Uncle Ben's to | stay all night and he'd ride as far as | the south pasture fence with me. And i | he did,” she laughed, intoxicated with | | the bragado of their plan for elope-| ment. “Paldy's a good old button,” said Jim, delightedly. | “Baldy asked if thirty miles wasn't| a lone ride for me to stay in the same | notion,” she declared, showing her| dimples. “But I reckon 1 won't back out now. Even if I see Bill Perry when | 1 get to town,” she added, with a touch | of the seasoned coquette in spite of eighteen summers to her record. He was when she talked like » was inscrutable. | ! fun to keep him | guessing! | | This was no boy, but a six-foot man of brawn and strength, a decade her ‘.ko:.ior in years, and a century in ex- " perience | | Besides, had she not taken him away from Mildred, her older sister, whom he had first come to the 3K ranch to 15:-(".‘ Had she not stopped him from ! riding dangerous horses, and from oth- | er bad habits? They rounded an undulating bit of ! prairie and in the distance, to the | right, a win 11 came in view. | “Well go by the sl * he said | “and you can rest a while | But beiore they there { s beat | were tw | ing Ju | They had 1 toward the west { now and sowmctimos Jim held his big cowboy hat before her face to shield her eves from the g The heat waves T and danced on the surface of the shrubbery, the crick- ets and locus irped in unceasing, monotonous strain. Then the exuberance of Bonita's epirits died out gradually until she was & tired iittle muid with sun- ered | burnt cheeks and lips almost blis | in the intense heat | He tried to cheer her with plans for the future and many yarns of the sort which hitherto had held her spell- bound. [ it to ner, a decent quilt and two pillows with | The floor was brushed | snowy slips. clean, and two empty cracker boxes, in lieu of chairs, was all the room con- tained, except a small zinc trunk. Beyond, in the kitchen, a dilapi- dated stove, a small table with a brown oilcloth cover, on which were some porcelain dishes, and the simplest cooking utensils, hanging on the rough pine walls, completed the fur- nishings of this typical “baching” out- fit. Jim went for a fresh bucket of water, and as Bonita stared about her, the last remnant of romauce slipped jaway and she was seized with a com- plete revulsion of feeling. She pictured the big, low-ceiled rooms of the ranch house of her fa- ther, the dainty muslin curtains, the piano, the comfortable rocking chairs, and the new velour-covered davenport | folding bed of which she and Mil had been so proud. Jim returned with the water. For want of a chair, the weary girl had dropped down on the side of the bed and half-reclined against a pillow. He dipped up a tting the bucket on one of the box She drank long and deeply, and he watched her there in his house, sit- ting on his bed, all the hunger and loneliness and untutored desire in his being swelled up. He dropped on his knees beside her, and threw his arms about her, holding her close, drawing her face down to his and covering it with k , which in his rough tenderness, he rained on cheek and lips, and eyes and brow. “You are mine—mine he said softly and huskily. At another time she would have sur- rendered hap . but in her present mood, the remoteness of the spot, their absolute aloofness from human con- tact, the bareness of this, his home, alarmed her. In a panic she fought him off. She flung the cup across the room, spattering the cl boards of the floor with the v g drops “Oh!" she cr It to go back Jim. I'm aid! n't cook ad wash, and—and all the re:t. 1 don't want to marry you-—or aisybody. 1 want to ride and have beaux and sleep with Nil!” He wis on his feet beside her now, with a different look on his strong features. !lis crooked mouth was 1- most a straight line. His eyes were serious with purpose “Little girl,” he said in a slow, hurt voice, “we'll go on to the Pitchfork ranch tonight If you are of the same opinion tomorrow, I'll take you home. As for the work here, and—and the rest, I hadn’t thought of your mindin’ that. “I had meant to help. 1 had ex- pected to give you every minute of my time that 1 could spare from makin' a livin’ for us both. I had wanted to devote it all to makin’ you happy. I love you! But it's up to you.” And so they rode on in silence until sundown, when they came to the home ranch of the Pitchfork outfit and Bonita was taken into the arms of old Mrs. Durkin, who thought they were there to make her a friendly visit, and mildly remonstrated with them for not coming sooner. Bonita was tired and distraught, and went to bed early. “Good night” was the only thing Jim had said to her from the time they arrived. She was homesick and penitent. Next morning after breakfast she was on the back porch watching the group of men at the hitching post. In fringed “chaps” and with a blue bandanna knotted about his neck, Jim was leaning against a wagon wheel with his hat pulled down over his face and an air of utter dejection about him. “Are you goin’ to try Old Eagle, Jim?” asked a heavy-set man, “I don’t know,” said Jim, “but I can ride him.” It behooves a man to talk discreetly in a country where he has to prove every boast and threat. But he was in no mood to fear danger. So he flung down his cigarette, took his rope from where it was fastened to his saddle which lay on the ground, and turned toward the corral without a word “What you goin’ to do?” called one. “Ride him,” answered laconic Jim And suiting the action to the word, he roped the old sorrel, and, after some trouble, got the saddle on him, and mounted The outlaw plunged and pitched a few times, then reared on his hind legs and fell back. Jim hit the ground on his—feet! ® And when Old Eagle rolled over, he | set his high-heeled boot on the :~ud-i le-horn and held him still Then the girlish treble “Jim,” it called, “make those men let you have your saddle. It's gettin' hot.” Bonita was standing on the porch, from which point she had breathl formance. Jim made for the house, and when vantage he arrived she handed him a dipper of | water from out of the canvas-covered water bucket which was suspended by a wire from the porch ceiling. The drops of sweat rolled from his face down on his neck where the strong muscles moved as he swal- lowed. The pride of possession filled her. She fanned him coquett with a ridis is litt Mrs. Durkin way, wearinz a green-checked gin. ham apron, her spectacles on top of her gray head. Bonita was looking very maternal anl solicitous. aripping cupful und gave | air was penetrated by a | ly watched her lover's per- | ed in the door- You shouldn't have got so hot, “We have a long ride before us.” “Why, mercy me, honey,” said old‘ Mother Durkin, “you’re not goin’ home | this mornin’? Why, you've skeersely got here!™ “No, we're not goin' home,” said Bonita, positively, with her new air of assurance. “We're goin' to town to get married, and it's a good ten miles. Saddle up the horses at once, Jim."” Jim let the dipper slide back into the bucket with a splash and hurried to the corrals, while old Mrs. Durkin folded Bonita in her capacious, moth- erly arms. POLLY PERKINS By CATHERINE COOPE. P R e e e (Copyright, 1914, by the McClure Newspa- per Syndicate.) No one would have stigmatized Polly Perkins as being insane. Ec- centric, mentally unbalanced, she cer- tainly was and another couple of! years might possible see her com-| fortably ensconsed in a home for in-| curables. For the present she was | happily if whimsically demiciled in a tiny cottage on Long Island. Miss Polly’s mental state was the cause | of rude jests from village children | and one of amused interest to older minds. Week-end guests were sure to be taken past the abode of Polly Perkins just as they were invariably regaled by the story of the haunted house on the old farm road. dippy on the pink,” said Jimmy Roge as he strolled past Miss Perkins' coltage with BDob lawthoine after a swim in the Sound. “I wouldn't have believed it,” laughed Hawthorne as he eved with amused glanee the pink-painted cot- tage, the pink flower dens, pink gate posts and outbuildings. "I sup- pose she has pink bows on all the live stock.” he comuented. “She surely has,” chuckled Jimmy, “every living chicken in the barayard has a pink bow on his neck.” It was not until a few days later! that Hawthorne, lolling in Jimmy Rogers' hammock, looked up to see a lone chicken clucking away and | pecking contentedly for vermin in | Rogers’ well-kept lawn. The chicken | had a more or less bedraggzled pink | bow on its neck that sadly interfered | at times with the capturing of (lllhl-( ties from the soft sod. And because Bob Hawthorne was al trifle bored with his own socicty and | more or les curious regarding the! cntric Miss Perkins, he decided to make a martyr of himself and take bject of s the straying bird home. | % He had little difliculty in catching the chicken. Evidently Miss Perkins’ hens were more in the nature of pets than table delicacies. After a few moments of reconnoi- tering he discovered that a wing of Miss Perkins' property practically ad- joined that of Jimmy Rog: He climbed the latter's fence and found himself facing the back of a pink chicken coop. A sharp turn around the fence brought him into the awk ward position of having tripped over a pink-clad figure. She was lying flat upon her back in the tall grasses. | “You've no right to be snoring in that wet grass,” he said. “I was not snoring, and the grass is as dry as a bone,” the girl sald with asperity. She had arisen to a sitting posture and was endeavoring to coax back the frightened chicken. “I don't know why—all men think that every place of grass in the universe is con- tinually wet.” | She had got the chicken back by continued coaxing, the while she was | addressing her remarks to Haw- thorne. “Are you Miss Polly Perkins?” he asked, when her wide-open eyes again roamed toward his face. “Yes, 1 am,” she said. “Is there | anything else you would like to know, Rude Person?” she inquired. “You know,” she continued, “I am not the Miss Polly Perkins you think I am. Iam her niece.” With that she turned swiftly on her heels and left Bob Hawthorne standing beside the pink chicken coop. “You know,” she confided to him two nights later when they left the club house after a most delightful tango evening, “I have a dreadful confession to make.” Since Bob's eyes were anvthing but fear inspir- ing, Polly continued: “l saw yon sneaking down to Aunt Poll chick- en coop and deliherately put that bird | over the fence so that you might sea it.” “Are bluy “No—Rude Person,” laughed Polly “Then prepare for the worst soon,” said Pob, possessing himself of the slim fingers that he had watched | jealously caressing tba pink-bowea | chicken “For the vest,” goftly. you engaged?” asked Bob contradicted Polly The Futurist Pa Painting to the Futurist is no pretty a soot art to be hung in a room to \d discussed at discreet dinner par- ties. Like all Futurist Kk, it i8 in- spired by adventure and discovery. It is a violen to be taken only en, deadly as whisky, if too ted; but never an opiate, never nar.ctic with sleep. The Futur- t de everything soft, gracioue 1 and moribund. He 5 with brilliant colors and sharp strives to find plastic f ances of our smells, music factories, trains and harbors. He tells us that noises and smells may be in form concave or convex, triangular, elliptical, oblong. conical, spherical, spiral; and as for their color, he says instance, is nearly always red; the smell of restaurants and cafes is sil- the smell of machinery and sport, for. ver, llov: or vi t the smell of als yellow or blue Let us not 12i:zh too soon. Noises and sme'ls are s states of mind, and we talk of jealousy (which is a state of mind) as green or green-eyed: in anger we say we “see red;” in melancholy w.' e . o When You Think of Gents’ Furnishings You instinctively turn to the house with the reputation of high class goods %% Our Hart Schaffner and Marx Suits are selling better this Fall than last. Now is your time to get one. Also, our Boys’ Suits are extra good in Quality and Low |} in prices. = Come in and look over our Stock and convince yourself as to Prices l and Quality of our Merchandise. | L JOS. LeVAY The Hub THE HOME OF Hart Schaffner and Marx Good ‘Clothes Don’t forget to ask for your Calendars for 1915 Extends to you The Congratulations of the Season And Best Wishes for 1915 SPEIPRRS We Sell Dry Goods Lower Prices on Ford Cars Effective August 1st, 1914 to Augustist, 1915 and guaranteed against any reduction during that time. All cars tully equipped f 0. b. Detroit, Runabout Touring Car Town Car. .. .. ...3440 ...690 {Buyers to Share in Profits A1l retail buyers of new Ford cars trom August 1st, 1914 to Angust 1st, 1915 will to the re in the profits of the company extent of $10 1w $60 per car, on each car they buy, FROVIDED: we sell and de- 300,000 new Ford cars during that pe- \sk us for particulars FORD MOTOR COMPANY Lakeland Auto and Suppiy Co. POLK COu Y AGE S d ESTABLISHED SINCE 1594 Equipped with Modern Electrical Ma- L & we are able to do your Repairing N2> at Short Notice. We use Best Material and Guarantee all Work at Satisfactory Prices. 4 : Alsoafine line of RATTLESNAKE and ALLIGATOR 3 BELTS. POCKETBOOKS, Shoes, Hand Bugs, Ete. . 3 Work Called for and Delivered e We Farcel Post charges one way, on any Work 3 amounting to $1.00 or over PH. FISCHER & SON