Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, May 1, 1915, Page 6

n the | Dreamer By H. M. EGBERT (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) “I'm glad you are going to marry Norma, Harry,” said Norma's father to her flance. “She is the best and sweetest girl in the world, and I have always“hoped that she would marry a good man. [ think you are the best suited to Norma of any man I know.” And Harry MacIntyre had gone away from the dreaded interview feel- ing as if he were treading on air. He counted the months that lay be- tween him and the goal of his desires. Norma, with her sweetness, her radi- ant goodness, her simplicity of heart was always in his thoughts. And Norma was not “temperamental.” Like many, perhaps most literary men, Harry was “temperamental.” A rising writer, already earning a com- fortable income, Harry had created heroines innurerable, blondes and brunettes, piquant heroines, stately ones, demure and dainty ones. Some- times he had wished that he could turn some of these ideals into flesh and blood. But alas! the ideal hero- ine is a figment of the brain, an airy nothing. And Norma was not Harry's ideal. She was simply a sweet girl, admir- ably suited to him. Harry felt a re- freshment of the spirit when, turning away from his latest creation, he en- countered the blue eyes of Norma, sane, healthy and always bringing him back to his proper appreciation of life. There was only one flaw in their happiness. May Arbuckle, Norma's best friend, was ‘“temperamental.” And she did not like Harry. Harry was conscious of this un- spoken hostility. * He knew that if ever the dreadful day dawned when misunderstanding arose between him and his flancee, he would have to reckon with the implacable hostility of Miss Arbuckle. He sensed that through all the frigid courtesy of their meetings. Harry had gone into the country for a brief vacation. He did not want to leave Norma, but circumstances made They Walked Together. it necessary. Norma was going to Baltimore, to spend a week with an aunt there, and Harry, growing anemic in the hot city, decided to run up to the mountains for a brief rest. And there he met Miriam Bendish. And the moment he saw her he real- ized that his latest heroine had come into incarnation. She stood before him, bronze-haired, demure and piquant by turns; he knew every turn and twist of her complex soul. Even at the first interchange of glances he knew that Miriam under- stood He watched her thrqugh the dinner like a man in a dream. They were In- troduced that evening. They danced together, talked together on the porch. Their conversation, perfectly proper and platonic, was unmistakably one of understanding. All that night Harry lay awake, thinking of Miriam and again of Nor- ma. He remembered how he had come into Norma's life, six months before. He recalled how the serenity of her nature had appealed to him. There had been a sweetheart of Nor- ma's—a young man named Willis. They had been comrades since child- hood, and, though nothing had been sald of love, most people had be- lieved that Willis would marry Norma. After Harry had made his appearance Willis had left the town. Harry had suspected that Miss Arbuckle resent- ed his having supplanted Willis, and that that had been the cause ot her hostility. Harry Dbecame conscious, with amazement and distress, that he was wishing Willis had stayed. He found himself questioning his fitness to marry Norma. Would their natures blend, any more than light and dark- ness?’ He knew his weakness, his constant searching for that ideal whom Norma did not represent and never could represent. Valuable Alaskan Dogs. In Alaska where horseflesh is scarce, are used in farming operations. pair of dogs hitched to a small eel plow wiil do excellent service the potato patch aud a team of six will draw 1,000 pounds of pro- @uce to market. Pragrances Difninished by Sunlight. Flowers are more fragrant when the sun is not shining on them, according o a French scientist, because the oils produce the perfume are forced by the water pressure in the plant aad this is diminished by sunm- Then the bronze hair and glorious eyes of Mirlam blotted out poor Nor- ma’s pleture from his mind. He stayed three days at the hotel Instead of a week, and Miriam occu- pied all his thoughts. They walked together, danced and drove together. Yet, with a mighty effort of will Har- ry, conscious as he was of Miriam's power over him, refrained from any love-making. Only, at the moment of pariing, he asked permission to call on her in the city. And he saw an answering light leap into Miriam's eyrs as she gave him her address. *“Good-by, Mr. MacIntyre.” ‘That was all, but there was a world of meaning in the flutter of the little hand in his. No, that was not quite all, for, at the very end, as he leaned from the bug- 8y: “Au revoir, Mr. MacIntyre.” Then Harry was gone to spend three miserable days at another hotel, a little place miles distant, where his days and nights were haunted by vis- fons of Miriam. And at the end he came to the con- clusion that he must offer Norma her freedom. And yet the thought of her grief maddened him with remorse. He did not know what to do. In this undecided frame of mind he approached the house where she lived. He had gone there in the evening; it was dark except for a single light that shone in the parlor. As he approached the door he was arrested by hearing the sound of voices. Norma and May Arbuckle were talking. “You say you never loved Willis, and yet you think of him,” said May. “Norma, dear, consider your heart's promptings before it is too late.” “I have considered them, May,” an- swered Norma. “And they tell me that I have not erred in my choice.” “But at least Willis was more of your ideal than Harry,” suggested May. “In a way—yes, May. Willis was my oldest friend, you see. We shared all our tastes in common. And Harry is comparatively a stranger. We do not know each other yet.” “Norma, dear,” said May Arbuckle, “do you know the fate of a woman who marries a man like that? At best, even if their marriage is to be a happy one, she must be the slave of his moods.” “I have thought of that,” said Norma miserably. | Harry started. Had Norma thnllxhtl of that? Why, that had been in his own mind from the beginning; but he! had never credited Norma with hav- ing the ability to analyze these ob- scure fashionings of psychic thought. ! He did not know Norma had seen what he had seen. are running a grave danger, continued May Arbuckle. “One man you know—the other you do not know. And Willis loves you still. He told me that he could never be happy without you. It is not too late, dear.” “Yes, it 18 too late,” Norma an- swered. “Harry loves me, and a wom- an is as much bound by honor as any 1 am engaged to Harry, I am his afflanced wife, and nothing can come between us.” “But suppose Harry does not love you?” “Then he must tell me so.” “And you would let him go gladly, then? Consider your heart carefully, Norma. Search into its depths. Con- fess that you would be glad to let and to have Willis back.” “Why not?” “Because, May, when a woman gives her love, in my opinion, at least, she gives it for eternity. What do dif- ferences of mood matter so long as be- | neath them there is the spirit, with | its resolutions of fidelity, and its real love?” Harry listened in awe. He had not meant to play the eavesdropper. But ' this was a new Norma whom he had | not known or suspected, and suddenly it occurred to him that Norma's na- ture would unfold for him, developlnz‘ in unexpected ways, if only he was' faithful to her. | “That's not a real reason,” sald May Arbuckle scornfully. ! “Well, then, I'll give you nnther."i answered Norma, rising. “Because I love him, more than a thousand Wil- | lises all put together. Because I in- tend to love him, with all my heart, 80 long as I live. There, May!" There was a new sound in Norma’s ' voice that Harry had never heard there before. And, remembering his position, he crept quietly away and down the street. Suddenly the memory of Miriam be- came very faint and dim. He realized that this new love of his was nothing but an image, drawn from the depths of an unstable heart and projected upon the mirror of his mind. Why, Mirlam was nothing to him, and never could be anything. Once more he had enwrapped himself in phantasies when the one woman of his heart was wait- ing for him, with a love that would never change He felt very humble and small. And, in the train that night, he repeated this prayer over and over. “God, give me constancy and faith, that I may be true to Norma in all my thoughts as long as 1 live.” And when, returning the next day, he held her in his arms, he knew that his prayer would be answered. Co-Operation “What I want to do.” said the thoughttul business man, “is to keep politics out of business.” “That’s all right,” replied Mr. Dustin Stax. “And I'm going to help. Il never write a check for another cam- paign.” Warmth From the Heart. Hearth warmth is generated by the triendly touch of another’s hand. “Landiady.” The distinction which the posses- slon of land used to give is still exem- plified in the titles of “landlord” and “Isadlady.” Persons are amused st the colored washwoman, for instance, who insists on the term “lady.” But lot the same woman run a rooming house, of whatever description, and ®he 1s not & “landwoman,” but a “land- Indy.~ By GEORGE MUNSON. (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) “Julia! Is that you, dear?” The sick man stirred uneasily upon i the bed, and Julia Crothers ran out | to where her younger sister, Dulcie, | waited upon the landing. “It is terrible. I cannot stay there,” she whispered. | Dulcle, who had been trembling, suddenly managed to pull herself to- gether and entered the room with a firm tread. She went up to the bed- | side. “Is that you, Julia?" murmured the sick man again. “Yes,” answered Dulcie bravely. Two days before, Jim Ridgely, her | sister's flance, had been struck by lightning. His recovery, at first de- spaired of, now seemed assured, but he was blind, and the doctors held out no hope of his regaining his sight. “The optic nerve is paralyzed,” they said. “There is the barest chance, but the cure must be a spontaneous one, and it must happen within the next two or three days. Unless by a miracle that should happen, he will be blind the rest of his life.” Julia Crothers was the belle of the town, and Ridgely a rising young law- yer. Though Julia and Dulcie were alike in speech and manner, and were often mistaken for each other, when side by side it was plain that Dulcie was only a poor image of Julia. She was generally considered plain; the difference, however, existed principal- ly in Julia’s dashing ways and Dulcie’s unattractive and simple ones. Poor Dulcle, whose tender heart went out to Ridgely, knew that her ; heartless sister wou!d never dream of marrying a blind man. She could trace the unconscious processes in | Julla’s heart even now. And it seemed to her that she must do her best to shield Ridgely until he recov. ered. Possibly his sight would come back to him, and then he need never know that it was she, and not Tulia, who had sat at his bedside all those long hours when he lay racked with pain and fever. ‘“He is sleeping,” she told her sister. when at last she went out to her. “What shall T do, Dulcie?” moaned Julia. “I cannot bear to look upon suf- fering. What shall T do?" Then Dulcie told her her plan. And it worked surprisingly. A week elapsed, and at the end cf that time, although the doctors announced that there was now no hope of Ridgely's ever recovering his sight, he was able to sit up. And he had not guessed that it was Dulcie who had sat by his bedside and read to hirn in her gentle voice. He had thbught it was Julia. And in the midst of the pain Dulcle felt to think of Ridgely’s coming disil- lusionment, there was a flerce exul- tation in her heart. For Dulcie loved Ridgely. She had loved him from the beginning, and now more than ever before her heart went out to this blind man, doomed to be dependent throughout his life upon the help of others. Ridgely had been brought into the Crothers home simply because he had no one to care for him. Old Mrs. Crothers, a gentle old lady, alternately l LOVE WAS NOT BLIND . | | , dominated and petted by Julla, had assented to the plan with alacrity. But when she understood Julia's inten- tions she shook her head mournfully. “He thinks I am Julla, mother,” Dulcie whispered to her. “I don't know how to tell him.” The old lady flared up for the first time in many years. “If you ask me,” she sald, tossing her head, “I think that Jim is well rid of her.” “Will you tell him, mother?” asked Dulcie, eagerly. “No, my dear. sald the old lady. And then, resolved to end a situation which had become unbearable, Dulcie That is for you,” | ran up the stairs and into Jim's room. He was lying on the sofa, looking out of the window with his sightless eyes. “Do you know, dear, that I have neither asked nor received a kiss dur- fng the whole of my illness?” asked Jim patiently. Dulcie blushed painfully. “Jim, there is something that I 1 must tell you,” she stammered, seat- ing herself at his side. “Is it something terrible?” he asked gayly. “Tell me, Julia, and let me see whether I find it as bad as you think it 1s.” . “Oh, you don't understand,” the girl burst out. “And yet I don't know how you can have been so bli—so unable to understand. 1 am not Julla. I am Dulcie, and Julia—Julia—oh, Jim, how can T manage to tell you that she does not care for you any more, and has rot been near you since the second day of your {llness? Oh, Jim, she doesn’t care for you and never did care, and it is hard to have to tell vou, and—and—" And Dulcie broke into a storm of passionate tears. Jim’s hand fell lightly wpon her own. “I knew it was you, Duleie,” he sald softly. Dulcie raised her tearstained face incredulously. “You see, dear, you only decelved me for a few hours,” he sald. “You see, Dulcie, love opens one's ears, and I have come to realize that it is you, and not Julla, and I have dared to hope—" by He drew her toward him. “To hope that you might learn to care for me, Dulcle. And I have dared to tell you, because—I have seen you for the past week as clearly as I ever saw in my life.” ——— Good Word for the Mule. “Some men,” said Uncle Eben, “put in deir lives kickin' at nothin’. Dar's dis much to be said foh de mule. It he's Interested enough to kick, he's willin’ to go to de trouble of takin’ aim.” — Prophet's Liking #or Narcissus. Mohammed loved the large-flowerel narcissus, and kas sounded its praises in the epigrammatic saying: “Whe over has two loaves of bread, let him exchange one for the narcissus flower; for bread is tood for the body, but the narcissus food for the soul.” | deed. MISS AMABEL'S DESIRE By BRYANT L. ROGERS. iCopyright, 1915. by the McClure Newspa- per Syndicate.) ‘My greatest desire?” repeated Miss Amabel Walton. “I'm afraid all of my wishes have been gratified.” Miss Walton looked dreamily at the gray old college buildings wear- ing their ivy green mantles with dig- nifled submission to the passing years, and a tender smile touched her soft lips. “There is one unfulfilled wish that haunts my hours,” she admitted at last. “I knew {t,” triumphed Stella. “Do you mind telling us about it?" asked Marion. “It 18 such a simple wish that you will wonder why I have not grati- fled it—I am dying to wear pink— a soft rosy pink gown—there, am I not perfectly idiotic?” The little teacher of music at Fen- ton college looked appealingly at the sympathetic girlish faces of her fa- vorite pupils. “Why don’t you wear it, then?” mar- veled Stella Mayse. Miss Amabel Watson touched her beautiful snowy hair. ‘“Because it would be so absurd—at my age. But how I longed to wear it when I was a child! I lived with a maiden aunt who looked upon pink as a frivolous color and so it was banned from my wardrobe. I've worn black and white and blue and brown and lavender, but never a bit of pink—and there is my ungratified wish!" Miss Walton’s soft blue eyes were j very bright when she finished and the rere two pink spots in her un- ~d cheeks, With her snow wlite hair she wa< beautiful and the heir which might Lave added weight to her vears. a!so lent a freshness and bloom of a youth which was not very distant “But that should not wear pink Walton,” insisted Do, please!" “And you look very, very young in- Won't you wear a pink frock to the October recention?” “Miss Walton hesifated. “I must have a new frock,” she adnitted. “Do let us 59 to town with you and select it, d the sirls, and at last Amabel Welton ecrsented The night of tho Cctober reception Amabel regarced her reflection in the mirror with mingied distrust and de- light. In this delicate piuk creation she looked a slender, girlish figure—like one of those Dresden china bits on her mantelpiece. There was a murmur of surprise in the room when Amabel entered With Stella and Marion. Mademoiselle Drouet, the French teacher, elevated is rn reason why you v, dear Miss Marion Reeves. her sandy eyebrows and whispered ' ironically to Professor Hanford. Professor Hanford frowned, and his eyes followed Amabel's pink-clad form with such a mixture of admira- tion and wistfulness in their depths that mademotselle turned quite yellow ' with jealousy. She swept away, and Professor Hanford, glad of his release, wandered aimlessly around until he came upon Amabel sitting alone in the deep bay window, a roll of music in her hand and her brown eyes shining with unshed tears. The professor looked down at her with infinite tenderness in his eyes. | “You—you are distressed?” he asked, shyly. The tears fell. “I am foolish,” quiv- ered Amabel. “I have worn this ridi- culous frock—" “Ridiculous!” interrupted the pro- fessor. “It is charming. I am won- dering why you do not wear it al- ways.” “T am too old to wear pink!” sighed Miss Walton, without coquetry. “A woman is never too old to wear what {s so infinitely becoming,” pro- tested the Greek instructor eagerly. “It s a pity that more women do not understand the art of dressing be- comingly. Now, pink—pink is my fa- vorite color. Something in his tone made Ama. bel blush. “It is mine, too,” she said hurriedly, and then she went on and told him the pathetic little story of her drab- colored childhood. When she had finished he nodded his head sagely. “You are quite right to wear it, and I predict that it will always be charming upon you—it is the color of hope and youth, Miss Wal- ton, and even to a dry old bachelor like myselt it seems to brighten a rather dull future; it emboldens me to tell you a secret—about myselt—and my love—for you!"” When Marion Reeves came to find her accompanist, there was no mis- taking the situation. The quiet-eyed girl read it in the faces of Amabel and the professor, and a charming smile broke the sweet gravity of her face. “Can you spare her to play for me, Professor Hanford?" she asked. “For only a little while,” admitted the happy man, as he relinquished Amabel’s trembling little hand. “You shall be the first to hear the good news of our engagement—and I would never have found courage to ask her if it had not been for the pretty rose- colored frock!” “Blessed be pink!" laughed Marion, and as she went away with her arm around Amabel Walton she smiled over her shoulder at the man. “I am going to sing ‘Roses, Roses Everywhere' and I am going to sing it for just you two!™ —_— Expensive Weed. One of the most expensive woods used regularly in an established in- dustry in the United States is box- wood, the favorite material for wood carving. It hes been quoted at four cents a cubic inch, and about $1,300 by the thousand board feet. — How Ivy Benefits Walla. After extensive tests German e perts have decided that ivy bemefits Tather than injures stone or briek walls on which it grows by drawing Superfiucus molstu:« ‘rom them. JOHN SMITHS THEORY By FRANK FILSON. oot bl b (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) He felt pretty gloomy all the way down to his office. He had begun to earn enough income the year before, as a lawyer in the little manufactur- ing town, to justify him in claiming Mollie, whom he had loved since he entered college, as his wife. But the struggle was a hard one, and he had only just been able to keep his home together. Then, a month previously, the Adamson company had invited several of the town lawyers to apply for a salaried position as adviser. The choice had really narrowed down to two: himself and Herbert Johnson. And he knew in his heart that John- son was slated for the position. If mere learning had counted, he | might have got it. But there werel other qualities. Johnson was a man- about-town, a frequenter of the best hotel, where he dined and met people. But, most important of all, Johnson was acquiring a reputation as a man who took hard cases. The Adamson corporation would undoubtedly prefer a man who was willing to attempt to drive through the law, if it could be done, to a lawyer who had his own ridiculous scruples. “However,” he said to Mollie, “I be- lieve there is a good future for a law- yer whose honesty will be so generally recognized that it will go far toward winning him every case in which he appears.” And she had agreed. But that did not help him toward the $2,000 posi- tion with the Adamson corporation. And that income, in addition to his other work, loomed larger and larger as the days went by. Then he was stunned to receive an | invitation to call upon the corpora: | tion. In his best suit, which Johnson { would have scorned to wear, except ; for gardening, perhaps, he made his | way to the big factory downtown and was shown into the room of the presi- 'dent. George Adamson, a fussy look- | ing old gentleman, who bade him sit | down and examined him with a very ! critical gaze. | But Mr. Adamson thawed percepti- | bly when his visitor answered the | searching questions that he put to him. There John Smith knew that he was on safe ground. His credentials were certainly better than Johnson's, and Adamson acknowledged himself as highly pleased. | “Now let us come to practical de- tails,” he said. “For instance—an old inventor out in Dayton has a patent that we are very anxious to secure. It is an improved method of manu- facturing gas furnaces, and if we had it it would cut the cost of produc- tion 15 per cent. The old man is a crank and has an inflated value of his property. He won't sell for less than a million, which would mean no extra profit to us for three years. Morally we are justified in taking his patent and manufacturing according to fits specifications, for the good of the country. It is intolerable that omne know that he could not hope to find the money to sue. Anyway, the case would run for years, and all the while we could be manufacturing. Very well! But now, suppose he moved for an injunction to prevent us manufac- turing while the suit was pending. How would you go about stopping it?" “Pay him his million dollars or stop manufacturing,” answered Smith , quietly. Old Adamson glared at him. mean ?"—he bellowed. “That I would not be a party to such a case.” answered Smith. “No doubt you can find men who would. I am “You ‘afrald I am not the man you need. | % | Good-day, sir.” the office. “You'll hear from us tomorrow!” he heard the irate old man bellow after him. But the threat passed over his head. An hour later he was telling Mollie all about it. “Dear, you did just right,” she said. But he saw the tears which she vainly tried to conceal, and presently she was weeping unreservedly upon his knee. The next morning when he saw a letter from the Adamson people beside his plate he remembered the presi- dent's threat. He laughed scornfully as he opened it. What could the old man do? If he threatened him he would promptly bring suit for dam- ages, or defamation of character. He, John Smith, did not intend to allow that old ruffian to ride roughshod over him. He opened the envelope. Next mo- ment he dropped the letter with a er: “Mollie! He's offered me the job he cried in exultation. Then: “But T can't take it, dear. I wouldn't work for such people.” “Let me read it, dear.” said hi+ prac- tical wife. She took up the letter and road it. Then, silently, she laid it before her husband “Dear Sir," he read. “We ehall con- sider ourselves fortunate if you will consent to act as our legal represen- tative at a salary of $2.000 for the first year. It may interest vou to know that of the five lawyers before whom we placad our test question you were the on!y one who answered it in a manner satisfactory to us. Our business has always been conducted according to the best traditions of American business life, and we have use only for an honest man.” “Mollie!” gasped John. “There is rolom for working out my theory after all.” And he walked out of ! ! 0 GETS THE MONEY YOU EARN? DO YOU GET I ¢ DOEV;HSOMEBODY ELSE WHO DOES NOT EARN IT? YOUR “EARNING POWER"” CANNOT LAST ALWAYS, WHILE YOU ARE MAKING MONEY BANK IT ANDIBE Fyyf FOR OLD AGE. JUST DO A LITTLE THINKING. RANK :WITH US. WE PRY 5 PER CENT INTEREST ON TIME DEPOSITS ! *American State Bank ‘BE AN*AMERICAN"ONE' OF US.” Now is the Time to Lay In a Supply & 98 Ib. 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