Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, April 24, 1915, Page 7

hifoprflctor '\ SCARBOROUGE, 1.8 Attendance Building Between Park jum cE HOURS ol'l"‘ 1:30 to § p. m. :00 p. m. $:00 . . V. . C. p. VIA. D. TUGE ropratic. Over g mu“"u"‘-‘“ o 108D B and Ex-Faculty mem- o Palmer School of Consultation and alysie free at ofios. th MEND 4 B 0 ‘ENGINEERS 312-215 Drane Bullding Lakelsnd, Fla. Land Kxaminstions ané e’ « nortnwork Specialists. o phone, 278 Black. _ e, 218 Blue. SARAH . WHEELER 0STEOPATE Aouex. poor South of Firs National Bank Lakeland, Florida 1 W. R. GROOVER GCIAN AND SURGEON §and 4. Kentucky Buildins Lakeland, Florida 2. W. B. MOON slz(.‘lAN AND SURGEON Telephone 350 yto 1:, 2 to 4, evenings Tto 8 over Postoffice Lekeland, Florida Office of LI;‘LV ERICKSON t Buildi S ERICKSON 1.C W. THOMSON I;' Depositions .umdet : Bdwin Spencer, Jr. LGERS & SPENCER Attorneys at Law, Bryant Bullding i — 3. H. HARNLY e, Live Stock aul General AUCTIONEER " Sales Manager AL REALTY AUCTION CO. tion Lot dales & Specialty oo Biag. Lakeland, Fla KIPES TUCKER, JRB. LAWYER » Blig, Lakeland, Florids KEISEY BLANTON ATIORNEY AT LAW Ofice in Munn Building Lakeland Florida R RICHARD LEFFERS MCIAN AND SURGEON 2-3, Skipper Building .. Over Postoffloe ......:- 8. PRESTON, LAWYER Uptairy East of Court House BARTOW, FLA. tion of Titles and Rea Xs tate Law a Specialty MANK H. THOMPSON NOTARY PUBLIC Dickson phone 402, Res. 312 Red tttention to drafting lega) papers. e licenses and abstracts tnrnished EERMAN WATSON, M. D. Norgan-Groover Bldg. mes: Ofice 351; Res. 113 Red Takeland, Florids J. . PETERSON ATTORNEY AT LAW Dickson Building % in all courts. located and contested Btablished 1n July, 1900 1 wnd 15 Kentucky Building LOUIS A, PORT ARCHITECT Hotel, Lakeland, Florids T. M. BRYAN ARCHITECT Room § Elliston Building P. 0. Box €05 Likeland, Fl?ridl ICK ? §8 itland Sanitarium HARDIN BLD | five years, and the! t, 1915, by W, G. Chapman,) “Any kicks this m, mer?” inquired H dent for the time Gold Mining com at the mahogany the big city building. “Half a dozen,” answered )i 3 mer, laughing, “Say, Mr. Sarlngz)rl: rllt certainly does seem to be getting a 'blt warm in these parts. That clergyman from Boston has been Writing in want- ing to know whether the mine's ever started operations, or ever going to.” “Well, I'll write him later, an. orning, Miss Lori- enry Sandford, presi- of the Montana, Eagle swered the president absently. “If | necessary we'll declare a ten per dividend for his benefit.” e “And that old lady from Philadel- phia, who says she's invested every- thing—* “Pshaw! We needn't notice her till ®0e writes that she's coming to inter- View me Then we'll send her a divi- dena too Applications stil] piling in?" “Twelve thousand dollars since Sat. urday.’ - “Whoop!” ejaculated the president. 'Say, Miss Lorimer, there certainly are a lot of suckers in the world, ain't there? I wonder how many's been born since we shut up shop on Satur- day night?” “Just 2,400, answered the secretary, after a short compilation upon her pad. “That ought to mean sc rething for us,” commented the pre: it Nevertheless he was anxious that morning. He had promoted many dubi ous concerns during the past yvear or two, aided by a “sucker list” for which he had paid the sum of three thousand dollars, The money had come rolling in from all parts of the country; clergymen, widows and fools had con- tributed largely on the promise of a bhundred per cent dividend annually. Whenever any applicant became too “well, I"l Write Him Later.” troublesome Sandford cleared himself and allayed suspicions by “declaring & dividend.” But he had reason to sus- pect that the federal officers were in- vestigating him, and he was pondering the advisability of departing for cool- er climes. Miss Lorimer had been with him for six months. She had come to him a simple girl, innocent of his methods of “finance.” He had corrupted her, he had taught her to believe that his methods of “business” were those uni- pany, as he sat down | desk in the office of | e ——— :rd. Andmmgvm.h:'ml tuition, that he was the victim of eir- cumstances. She knew that his father fl:adt t‘:’llowned him when he was a boy, : e had run away, returning home 1 10 find his father dead and his mother, ‘:umed out of the home by a medy‘ | n_ndlord, gone for ever from the little | Village where he was born. If he had had‘dlflerenl opportunities, da“l.::i!:n l;: :a.m-i, bn:k from lunch | S ben very attentively. s = “\:kllallny more suckers come in?” When she did not answer him he 4‘ ano:d at :er attentively. To his ‘ement he saw tears in her eyes, - “Why—what's wrong?” he inquired. l | _The girl looked up at him. “Every- thing,” she answered briefly. She could | no longer fight down her rising indig- nation. “The business, Mr. Sandford.” “Say! Turning pious?” “No, but listen, Mr. Sandford. I'll ; tell you why I couldn’t listen to—what you said. 1 couldn’t marry a man who | —who did these things. I'll marry you | it you'll do—do something else, some- ; thing honest, and give back these peo- ple’s money to them.” Sandford whistled. “That's a stift price,” he said. He tried to sneer, but something in the girl's earnestness awoke a responsiveness in his own heart. “That little old lady from Philadel- phia, Mrs. Burton, was in while you were at lunch,” said the girl. “It nearly broke my heart. Because, you see, she wasn't angry. She has such faith in you. She says she invested in your stock because she knew you had a good honest name. And—she's com- ing back at four o'clock to see you.” “Thunder!” ejaculated Sandford. “Tell her I've gone to Oshkosh to see my parents,” “Well, it comes to this,” said the { girl defiantly. “I just can't stand for this business any longer. Won't you— won't you give her back her money, at any rate? You see, she—she reminds me of my own mother, and—and she reminds me of what your mother ought to have been.” Sandford felt a flush of shame creep up his face. He turned his head away. But the girl still stood beside him, waiting for his decision. “I'll give her back her money, it you'll stay,” he said. “That isn't enough. I can't stay un- less—" “Now, my girl, do you think I'm go- ing to sacrifice all the money that's come in these last three months?” he demanded resentfully. “Why, those suckers don't know how to take care of their money. They're not fit to have money, Miss Lorimer. If I didn’t ease them of it somebody else would. Now see here, if you'll marry me I'll quit the game, but I won't give back the Hil- work money. What sort of a fool would I be it I did that?” “Then I can’t stay—I can’t,” said the girl. “Will you give me till tomorrow to think it over? And will you marry me at once if I agree? Mind, I don’t prom- ise. I want to think about it.” She nodded; she could not speak, and went back to her desk. And in the silence of that afternoon both had forgotten all about the little old lady until her bonnet appeared inside the office at a few minutes after four. Sandford, looking at her, felt a sud- den contraction of his heart. Some- how she brought back vividly to his mind bis home days; his father, harsh and unkind; his mother, loving but helpless in the face of the stern man who, annoyed by some boyish failing, had roughly turned the thirteen-year- old child out of his home. He had not meant what he said, but Harry had seized the opportunity to leave a place that had been more a prison than a home to him. 3 He had not wanted to see the old lady, but, now that he saw her in front of him, he rose to his feet, swallow- ing hard. “Well, Mrs. Burton, I am glad to see you,” he saild. “We have had several letters from you about your stock, and 1 am sorry that there has been some delay in replying to them. However, we are going to declare a dividend next week of ten per cent, and later we shall have another, and—hdw much was Mrs. Burton's investment, MMiss Lorimer?” But the old lady was still standing Yedi v | looking keenly into his rsally followed in the financial world. | before him, n ;:1 dh‘l’ not know the revolt that had | face. Suddenly she cried: taken place within her, nor that she needed her salary of fitteen dollars | urgently to support her widowed mother. Sandford had begun to think Miss Hilda Lorimer had the best business head of any woman whom he had known. And something as close to love as his selfish nature would admit bad been growing up in him. In fact, he had once or twice made tentative overtures to her. She had repulsed them with the easy way and the smile that covered such a multi- tude of regrets. If she had faced the problem of her manner of living she might have done what her instinct prompted her—Ileft the office. But she dared not face it, for there was noth- ing saved; and so she left the re- sponsibility with her employer and ¢ried to forget. At lunch time Sandford went up to er. ! ll"'Come. Miss Hilda, when is it going be?” he asked. . w'-wm is that, Mr. Sandford? “Say! g at for the past three months. :lr:::lngone:l now—a diamond ring and little flat somewhere.’ E ;‘:: laughed, evaded him, and put on her hat. “We'll talk it over some » ghe sald evasively. umYee.l ;hen he had gone she confessed to herself that <he d'd like Harry Sand- Camel's Working Life. Cam: fit for serious work at e ir strength begins twenty-five Years, 5 for thirty-five and You know what I've been itype\'r“!h “Harry!"” He knew her. He knew his mother, after all those years. He had changed more than she; but she had known him first by virtue of the love that every mother bears toward the child that she has borne. A moment, and her arms were about his neck, and she was clinging to him and kissing bim as though he were a little boy once more. “0, if 1 had known it was you!” she cried incoherently. “It was your name that made me invest, Harry, but I never thought that it could be my own boy. 1am so proud of you, my dear, to | see you so prosperous and—and so handsome, Harry! Didn’t they tell you I had moved to Philadelphia when I married Mr. Burton? But I never for- | got you, and after he died last year home.” “Will you take two children, moth- er?" he asked. She shot her keen look at Miss Lori- mer, who was crying frankly over her “This is Hilda, my future wite,” sald | Sandford — Daily Thought. Trust men and they will be true to you; treat them greatly, and they will show themselves great—Emerson. | : i i i e iigt ‘é { i LS it ISLAND GASTAWAYS By CLARISSA MACKIE. (Copyright, 1918 by the McClure Newspa- ver Syndicate.) The lake steamer touched at Pine island and left a solitary passenger— a decidedly pretty young woman, who carried a suitcase and umbrella. Mona Fairlee walked down the long pier to the shore, where the red- shingled roof of the Bensons’ summer camp peeped through the surrounding pine trees. She reached the cottage and stood amazed to discover that doors and windows were closely shuttered. Pine camp had every appearance of being closed for the season, although it was | only the first of August. | Something must have happened to change the summer plans of the Ben- sons, who were distant cousins of Mona. “What shall I do?” asked Mona in dismay, for there was no way of reach- ing the mainland except by boat. “If it hadn’t been for Dick Master- son—" Mona paused and bit her lip, fighting back the tears. “How I hate him!” she sobbed passionately. It was the old story of a lover's quarrel and a hasty parting. Mona had written a long letter to Edith Ben- son and followed the letter herself, seeking refuge from the world in the solitude of Pine island, said “solitude” being enlivened by the gay doings of the inhabitants of the group of little islands that dotted the lovely Maine lake. Now, with the Bensons away, she must return home, where she might meet Dick at any moment. Mona was growing hungry. She walked disconsolately down to the strip of beach that bordered the island. On the western shore, where one had a clear view of miles of unbroken wa- ter, she came to a halt and stared de- lightedly. A small fire of driftwood and pine cones burned cheerfully over a circle of stones. On the stones were five lake t.out broiled a delicious brown. A gray coat was thrown on the sand and near by was a fishing rod. There was no one in sight. How good they smelled! How hun- gy she was! “I may not have an- other bite to eat until tomorrow,” thought Mona, throwing all precepts to the winds. “If he were here I am sure he would share them with me— and yet I don't want anyone to know I'm here. He can catch more.” She salved her conscience with this, thought, as she bit into the juicy brown and white tenderness. The afternoon wore on. Great clouds piled up in the northwest, and there was a distant grumble of thunder. Mona was afraid of thunder storms. There came a, long, rumbling roll of thunder and she fled tp the front ve- randa of the cottage, where she sought a sheltéred corner and sat dis- consolately on her suit case with her umbrella spread protectingly over her. Lightning flashed intermittently; thunder rolled heavily. The sound of footsteps mingled with the noise of the storm. They reached the veranda, paused for a moment, and then came around to her sheltered corner. “Well, by Jove!” The muttered ejaculation told Mona that she had been discovered. She dropped her umbrella and looked up into the face of the fisherman whose dinner she had eaten. He was not an ill-looking young man. On the contrary, the gray coat covered broad shoulders above which rose a strong, brown throat and a head undeniably handsome. He was look- ing down at Mo: pale, frightened face ‘with quizzical eyes, “So it was you!” he laughed softly. A wave of color flamed into Mona's cheeks. “1 was hungry,” she explained eekly. “If I had known I would have arved first!” “But they were good—they must have been mighty good—they smelled delicious,” he said, regretfully. Mona turned a pretty shoulder and stared out at the pouring rain. “I'm sure I wouldn’t intrude—only there is no other shelter on the island,” he went on apologetically. “The veranda is large,” suggested Mona coldly. “Of course—l will go—I beg your pardon,” he said huffily. At that instant there came a hius- ing shriek of white flame that played up and down the trunk of the white pine tree, and with it came a crash- ing peal of thunder. Mona screamed with fear. The fisherman gathered Mona into strong arms. “Are you hurt, darling?” was his astonishing question. And Mona, half fainting with fright, | seemed not to resent the familiarity. Her golden head dropped on the shoul- der of the fisherman and her lips mur- mured a negative. “What are you doing here, Dick?" she asked faintly. “I have an f{dea/” said Dick slowly, “that Edith received your letter yes- terday. and, conceiving the idea of bringing about a reconciliation be- I tried so hard to find you. And now I | tween us, wired me to come up. Then | have found you and you must come | they left us marooned on the island, and—well, it happened just as she planned! they come mnow, two boatloads! "Let us go down to the pier and meet them.” The sun was shining when they reached the end of the pler. Two boatloads of merrymakers from the water carnival came laughing up the steps. Edith Benson met the two cast- aways with outstretched hands and questioning, mischievous eyes. “Is it all right?” she asked. “Yes, it's all right.” B i o E (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) “Well,” faltered Cynthia, “as you have seen the photograph—" “Yes, of Richard Graydon—go on, dear,” pleaded Leila eagerly. “We—we are engaged.” Leila sprang up with a wild shriek of joy. She clasped her arms about Cynthia, her eyes dancing with sin- cere approbation of the announce- ment. “Oh, my dear, I am so delighted!” she said. “I was afraid you were go- ing to fade away into a settled old widow.” “I have been one for two years, you know,” intimated Cynthia, and there was a species of anxious entreaty in her voice, “and, Leila—I was starving for love! love! love!™ Her very Inmost soul burst the leaden trammels of years at this wild outburst. Cynthia fell to weeping in the arms of her pitying and loyal friend. “No woman was ever a truer wife,” said Leila earnestly, “your new hap- piness is your reward.” It seemed true. Four years pre- vious, through the arts of a maneuver- ing mother Cynthia had given up her girlhood’s fondest dreams and had married Professor Russell, a wealthy old scientist. There was no love in the union. The professor was ab- sorbed in his work and was away traveling most of the time, but he was very proud of his beautiful wife. Cyn- thia was a faithful helpmeet and duty made up for the lack of affection. Two years passed by when Cynthia found herself a wealthy widow. Pro- fessor Russell had been making some scientific explorations in Nicaragua when a rebellion broke out. He and his valet, one Dorkins, were reported killed in an ambush. Cynthia felt that the freshness and joy of life were past until she met Richard Graydon. It had been a case of love at first sight. It seemed as if the subdued affection of her repressed nature budded all at once. There was to be a quiet wedding and Cynthia and Richard felt that the fullness of life Irad come to them at last. Never were two persons more fitly mated. Cynihia was in the prime of young womanhocd, Richard was a model of perfect manhood. Blissful happiness and peace seemed insured for those two ingenuous beings when the unexpected came with the sudden- ness of a thunder crash. A hasty agitated call came over the telephone to Richard one day. “It is Miss Lane,” was spoken 'in fluttering accents. “Please come to my home at once.” Richard found the friend of his fiancee in a distracted state. She was pale and trembling. She simply handed him a telegram. Tehalca, Nicaragua. It was signed James Russell and it ran: “Escaped after dreadful peril, Wire me five hundred dollars to return.” “Then—then he 1s alive,” hoarsely uttered Richard, white to the lips. “Yes,” replied Lella, and she pitied the strong man battling to show com- posure. “Oh, Mr. Graydon! I have just come from Cynthia. She crushed, she sa; A “I do not dare!” spoke Richard, his hands clenched to emphasize his strong resolution. “Tell her, the true faithful wife, the good woman that she is, that it is duty now—clear and sufficient. Tell her I have gone away ~—not to forget, but to cheris! Then Richard Graydon became a wanderer. He wondered if it was a trick of fate that his journeyings a year later brought him to the city of Tehalca. He stood near its prison flelds gloomily regarding a file of shackled convicts pass by. One only of the number was not a native. “Who is that man?” Richard casual- ly asked the guard. “Ah, that?” volunteered the volatile official. “It is Dorkins—he of the Rus- sell Both he and his master were supposed killed in the revolu- tion, but this one escaped after rob- bing his dead employer. Later he sent a false telegram to the wife of Professor Russell to secure money and was unmasked.” “Then Cynthia is free!” breathed Richard, and that night a telegram flew North bearing the simple words: “Shall 1 come to you?” One day, two days—no reply. Had Cynthia forgotten him? Ah, she might write! A week passed by. Richard gave up hope. One afternoon a servant appeared at his room, where he sat lost in a subdued reverfe. “A caller, below, sir,” the menial ad- vised him. As he entered the parlor of the lit- tle hotel a lady, veiled, arose to greet him. He advanced with inquiry in his face. “Richard!” The veil was thrust aside. With ex- tended arms and beaming eyes Cyn- thia Russell confronted him. “You! You!” he gasped, and grasped at the arm of a chair to steady himself. It was like some fleet- ing radiant vision. In all her loveli- ness there greeted him his heart's only love. “You came all this distance—alone —to me!” he breathed as in a dream. Then his hands met her own. Then, the honored memory of James Russell in his mind, he folded her within his embrace. “Oh, my love! my love!” he said, and bis reward had come. i 8 It was from | \ | | R E L. ECT RIC Get Your Coupons in the Great Voting Contest at the Hub. This is the only Gents’ Furnishing Store in Town giv- ing Votes with Purchases of Goods Our Spring Line Is Coming in Daity T 1 Tl See Our Windows ;. They reflect the Superb Stock with which our Store is filled. he Hub THE HOME OF Hart Schaffner and Marx Good CI El The Financial Crisis Over We are now in shape to give you the benetit of our Low KExpenses. Let us wire your House and save you money, Lower Insur- ance, Cleanliness and Convenience are the results. T. L. CARDWELL Phone 397 With Lakeland Sheet Metal Works ELECTRIC IT WILL PAY YOU TO CONSULT US ON THE ELECTRIC WIRING IN YOUR HOUSE OR STORE We Are Electrical Experts FLORIDA ELECTRICSMACHINERY Co THE ELECTRIC STORE Phone 46 Kibler Hotel Bldg. ELECTRIC Must Little Homeless Children Suffer In Florida’? WE DO NOT BELIEVE that the good people of Flor- ida realize that there are right now in our State Hundreds of litthe children in real need—some absolutely homeless— that just must be cared for. LA T We feel sure—that they do not know that there are hun- dreds of worthy mothers in Florida who are just struggling to keep their little ones alive—and at home. We just cannot believe—that with these facts true—and every orphanage in Florida crowded to the doors—that the people of Florida will let our great work which has cared for 850 of these little ones this year alone—go down for lack of funds to keep it up. Your immediate help—is greatly needed—right now—Please send what you can to-day—to R. V. Covington, Treasurer of The Children’s Home Society of Florida Florida’s Greatest Charity 361 St. James Bldg. JACKSONVILLE, FLA.