Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, May 21, 1915, Page 6

The Prfessions : aOl.WW Chiropractor DR. J Q. SCARBOROUGH, Lady in Attendance In Dyches Building Between Park and Auditorium OFFICE HOURS 8t011:30 a. m. 1:30 to 5 p. m. 7:00 to 8;&0 P l'nt.i o, Censultati d Examination N Re‘:i?eonnc:nl’hone 240 Black e i ——————— . D. MEND! o'cgkguguno ENGINEERS Suite 212-216 Drane Building Lakeland, Fla. Phosphate Land Examinations and Plant Designs karthwork Speclaiists, surveys ol Realdence phone, 278 Black. Ofiee phone, 278 Blue. DR. SARAH E. WHEELER OSTECPATH Muon Aopnex, Door South ot First National Bank Lakeland, Florida \ DR. W. B. GROOVER PHYSICIAN ARD SURGEON Rooms 6 and 4. Kentucky Bulldins Lakeland, Florida DR. W. B. MOON PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Telephone 350 Hours 9 to 11, 2 to 4, evenings T7t08 Over Postoffice Lakeland, Florida e Law Office of A. X. ERICKSON Bryant Building A. X. ERICKSON J. C. WILLIAMS E. W. THOMSON Notary, Depositions attended. \ D. 0. Rogers Edwin Spencer, Jr. ROGERS & SPENCER Attorneys at Law, Bryant Building Lakeland, Florida EPPES TUCKER, JR. LAWYER Raymondo Bldg., Lakeland, Florida e KELSEY BLANTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW Office in Munn Building Lakeland Florida ———————————————————— DR. RICHARD LEFFERS PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Rooms 2-3, Skipper Building Over Postoffice ————————— W. 8. PRESTON, LAWYER Office Upstairs East of Court House BARTOW, FLA. Cxamination of Titles and Rea: &s tate Law a Specialty W. HERMAN WATSON, M. D. Morgan-Groover Bldg. Telephones: Office 351; Res. 113 Red Lakeland, Florids e S e L s J. H. PETERSON ATTORNEY AT LAW Dickson Building .Practice in all courts. Homestead claims located and contested ——————————————————————— Established In July, 1800 DR. W. 8. IRVIN DENTIST Room 14 and 15 Kentucky Buildung ————————————— LOUIS A. FORT ARCHITECT Kibler Hotel, Lakeland, Florida T. M. BRYAN ARCHITECT Room 8 Elliston Building P. 0. Box 605 Lakeland, Florida SEPFPPEPBEPPRFELEL PRI $ OFFICE ROOMS FOR RENT In Telegram Building Coolest and Best Lighted in the City “eRunning Water in Each Room Call at TELEGRAM OFFICE SICK? $8 Lakeland Sanitarium Ors. Hanna HARDIN BLD Kandy! Kandy! Try our Honie-made Cocoa- nut Fudge. Made in Lakeland, U. S. A., irom Fresh Cocoa- nuts. Vanilla, Strawberry, or Chocolate Flavor, Peanut Brittle made daily. Remember me for Huckle- berries, Blackberries, Peaches and other Fruits, H. O. DENNY z Phone 226. Hardin Bldg, Florida Ave. sighed pretty little Mrs. Garrett, stand- WhenLove Grows Cold By H. M. EGBERT (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) “O dear, I wish I had a home!™ ing disconsolately in the center of her little room in the Grand National hotel at Louisport. There were four trunks in the little room, and Doris, the little girl, was seated forlornly upon the top of the pile, staring as disconsolately as her mother at the crowded cubic feet which were to be their home for the next few days. A knock at the door; an elderly lady and a younger one, verging upon mid- dle age, entered. “Well, Molly, home again!” re- marked the young one with unpleasant emphasis in her tones. “Yes,” sighed Molly Garrett. “And John off again, as usual, I sup- pose?” “Kansas City!” said Molly, almost weeping. “Well, you'd better come to us until he returns,” said the elder woman, who was her stepmother. “I don't know why my house should be upset in this way with your comings and go- ings, but since you would marry a traveling man ['ll have to bear with it Little Mrs Garrett began to cry. She was completely under the thumb of her stepmother and stepsister, Amelia. She had never had much in- dependence of will; perhaps that was why she had married a drummer dur- ing her stepmother’s absence., She knew that her family did not look with favor upon John Garrett. For the past seven years they had lived mainly in hotels. John, who was fond of his wife, had taken her every- where with him. The little girl was born in a hotel in Missourl. She had been baptized in Omaha, and her edu- cation, which had been begun in Mil- waukee, was to be continued in Louis- port, Mrs. Garrett's home city. That was why John had brought his wife and daughtcr there threc hours before, bidden them a hasty farewell, and started for Kansas City with a heavy heart. He was so inconsequential; he thought that so long as he paid the bills it didn’t matter where his wife lived. Established in her stepmother's home as a paying guest, little Mrs. “My What?” Cried Molly. Garrett listened to a dally tirade against her husband. “It isn't any life to ask a woman to share,” declared her stepmother. “Molly, I warned you not to marry that man. Who knows what he's do- ing when he’s away from you? Those salesmen are a bad lot.” g Little Molly Garrett began to cry again. She loved John dearly, but she was easily upset and rendered mis- erable, and the suggestion worked up- on her mind. Two weeks later John Garrett popped into his stepmother’s house, breezy, jolly, stout, rubicund and mid- dle aged. The women received him coldly. They did not like that type ot man. They moved in the best circles of the limited society of Louisport and looked down on John. Molly, back for the first time in two or three years, began to renew ac- quaintance with the fashionable folks of her home town. After John's de- parture she felt an unaccustomed sense of relief. She perceived what the years of travel had made her for- get. John was not exactly a gentle- man. His boisterous, good-natured manners, his effuse friendliness were singularly at variance with the calm repose of Louisport’s four hundred. All ber old friends had married and were doing well. She looked at their comfortable little homes, and a sense of bitterness hegan to stir in her heart. And Sayles, her old sweetheart, was still unmarried. He was manager of the local bank now, and was reputed to have been slated for the command Hubby's Joke. “Won't your wife sing for ust® “Sure! 1 just asked her mot to."— The Mischief Maker Stickers. The great difference between & pub- Ho servant and a domestic servant is that the public servant would not re- sign even under fire.—Loulsville Cour SerJournal. - A 'of the metropolitan head ofice. He bad an automobile and often took | Molly out driving. Her stepmother, ' ! who hated John with a®cold, implaca- | | ble hatred, seemed to approve of this | | friendly interest on Sayles' part, as | ! did her stepsister. ; | “Mamma,” said the little girl one | | afternoon, “is Mr. Sayles going to be | my new papa?” l Molly, startled at the childish query, turned upon the little girl sharply. “What nonsense!” she exclaimed. “Why do you ask me such a thing?” “Because,” answered the child, “I heard stepmother talking with the ladies at the tea yesterday about your | divorce.” “My what?” cried Molly. “Isn’t that the right word, mamma? ‘They said you were going to get a di- vorce and that Mr. Sayles was going { to be my new papa. And I won't have him," she continued, stamping her lit- tle foot. “I want my old papa.” Molly looked at her aghast. But be- fore she had time to collect her wits | Mr. Sayles drove up in his automobile | and the two went out along the streets and into the country. Sayles turned and saw that Molly | was crying into her handkerchief. “Why, Mrs. Garrett!” he exclaimed. “What is the matter?” That was too much for Molly. She felt that she had always been neglect- ed and misunderstood. She told him ‘me child’s remarks. Sayles listened, and, when she had ended, he put his |arm about her and drew her head down upon his shoulder. “I guess the child had about the hang of it, didn’t she, Molly?” he asked. “You mean—" “Why, dear, everybody knows that John Garrett isn't worthy to blacken your shoes. You've had a miserable life since you married him, and—and I've always loved you, Molly. Now let me tell you something. 1 have a chance to open a branch of the firm { out West. It isn’t as good as some- thing else I have my eye on, but I can wait six months while you're getting the legal preliminaries settled. Come { out with me, and you can get the di- vorce afterward.” He took her in his arms, and Molly frankly abandoned herself to this new love that had come into her heart. She was to tell her family that John had sent for her to Kansas City. They would never know. Then she was to slip off to New York and meet Sayles there. There was only a week of wait- ing before he could wind up his af- fairs. But on the fifth day Doris de- veloped a feverish cold, on the sixth she was down with pneumonia, and on the seventh she was apparently dying. “I want my papa!” moaned the little girl as she fought for breath. Molly telegraphed for John. Sayles was a constant visitor at the house. When Doris’ illness developed into pneumonia he seemed like a man dis- tracted. He could not bear the thought of postponement. He came into the sickroom and stood looking at Doris, who was delirious. “Molly, is this—going to keep us apart?” he asked. “Oh, I can’t leave her now,” Molly answered. “But why not?” the man persisted. “You can do no good and you are only wearing yourself out. Your stepmoth- er will take care of the child, and after she is well she can come on to us.” Molly looked dully at him. Her heart was torn between love of the child, newly awakened in her, and Sayles. She did not think at aH of the man who just then came into the sickroom —John. He sat down at the bedside and took Doris’ hand in his. The child knew him, she smiled at him. Presently she was fast asleep. For hours John Gar- | rett sat at her side, holding the hot | | little hand in his, and never stirred. His presence seemed to infuse & new atmosphere into the room. Sayles had gone long ago. Molly sat upon the other side of the bed. The presence of John always awak- ened in her heart sentiments that she was incapable of analyzing. Dimly she felt that John was a good man, in spite of his vulgarity, in spite of his noisiness. She was thinking now as she had never thought before, i She saw herself again, with the; tyrannous stepmother who had taken ! the place of her own mother, now only a dim figure in the mists of her child- hood. She saw how the two women had always tyrannized over her, how she had been a pliant tool in their supple hands. She remembered her courtship, how John had taken her away, their honeymoon together, the long years before her stepmother had forgiven her. Would John have acted as Sayles had done? Molly felt in- stinctively that she could not picture John in such a role, and her heart went out to him in a sudden outpour- ing of love. Presently John looked up. “Molly,” he said. “John?” “Pretty tired of this sort of lite, aren’t you? Say, I wanted to tell you some time ago, but [ was waiting un- til things seemed more sure. Do you remember that little place down by Easton you always wished you could live in? Well, I've bought it. I'm oft the road for good now—got a position in Easton at seventy-five that looks like a sticker. We'll have a home to- gether after all, and it's all ready and furnished with that style of furniture as soon as Doris gets well.” cried his wife “But—but— the doctor said she—" “She wasn't going to get well? Why, of course she'll get well. She's better already. Say, do you suppose [ came all the way from Kansas City to let her dle?” The Way to Clean Lamp Glasses. Here is an exceilent way to clean lamp glasses: Hold them over a jug of boiling water until they are well steamed; then polish with a soft dry rag. This is a much easier way than washing them, and the glasses very CHARACTER IN PASTEL By HARMONY WELLER. (Copyright, 1915, by the McClure Newspa- per Syndicate.) Priscilla dull, but she never sparkled. She was not exactly homely, but she was not pretty. “If 1 should try to describe her,” Walker was not exactly' | carried a suitcase and umbrella. one man in her set was heard to say’ in speaking of Priscilla, “she has a personality that is of pastel shades.” “Hire a hall and make a speech about her, why don’t you?” asked Tom Royden; for it was to him that the remark was made. “Or write her about ft. I never heard so many eloquent compliments about any one little drab-colored girl,” he said, with some heat. “Never drab-colored, Tom. thing but that.” “That’s so, Bill; old maids are drab, aren’t they?” And, thereafter, in spite of himself, Tom was drawn toward Priscilla. The more he was thrown with her—the more he danced with her, dined with her, talked with her—the more he had to admit her fascination. “Her personality seems to be al ways just what I need. She {nvarl ably fits into my mood. Now, what bothers me is this: does she fit in this way to every fellow’s notion? Does every one think she's just the right girl?” Tom pondered these questions through more than one night. At length he became a frequent guest in the home of Priscilla’s parents in their country place on Long Island And it was during visits in her home that he began to gather, through close introspection, the reasons for her per- sonality. Her father, an unusually success ful business man, was bluff and noisy self-centered and very proud of his achievements in the material world Her mother was the antithesis of the father; she was diffident, quiet, retiring—but sweet. Priscilla, born unselfish, had tried all her life to please both parents. She had listened to and admired her father on all oc- caslons, drawn him out on his fa- vorite topics, flattered him a little. With her mother she tried to be as interesting as possible; she attempt- ed to make the little woman feel that she was a part and parcel of the world instead of a retiring, almost subdued, creature. And Priscilla suc- ceeded in bringing more color into her mother’s personality than any- one else had ever been able to do. Mrs. Walker was almost at ease when Priscilla was about. “Priscilla,” Tom asked one night as they sat at coffee before the log fire in the dimly lighted living room, “is there anything you can’t do—any- thing you are not interested in?” Priscilla laughed softly and studied the black coffee in the tiny cup she held. “Why—yes, I suppose there are many things I can't do. For in. stance, I can’t vote.” “And don't want to, I hope,” sald Tom, testily. “Oh-h! but I do! TI'd like very much to have the privilege of the ballot, but it 18 hardly my way to— well, to get out and fight for it,” she sald. “Next?” persisted Tom. “Oh, don't force me to talk of my- self; it isn’t an interesting topic—" “Not to you, perhaps. But, Pris- cilla,” Tom leaned toward her, “it has become the most absorbing topic for thought, conversation and consid- eration—to me.” Priscilla only smiled a sweet, non- committal sort of smile. “Girl, don't you know most girls would have blushed—if they weren't past blushing—or simpered or looked shocked? And yet you receive that remark—which you know very well is only the forerunner of more and se- rfous ones—as if I had said it was a pleasant day. Priscilla, look at me.” Priscilla turned her soft blue eyes full upon him. Slowly a smile dawned in them even as she looked at him. “Well?” she asked. “What then?” “What then? I love you. I can't stand it to be away trom you for a day. And yet I have that awful feel- Ing that you are all things to all men —to all people in the world. And I never could stand that, dear. I'm jealous; I want you to be mine alone.” “But—Tom,” she gaid, calling him by the familiar title for the first time, Any- though he had long discarded formal- | ity with her. *“What makes you think I—I am so much to every one?” “Oh, the fellows are always making poetic remarks about you; they're al- ways looking at you; always wanting to do something for you. And the girls adore you! So where do I come in? Can you tell me? Or is it against that tantalizing policy of yours to tell me, Priscilla?” “You -come in—just where you like,” she said with characteristic quietness. Tom jumped to her side. “Pris- cilla! Say it again! You love me? You really care for me?” he asked, searching her face. “I did not dare to hope, and yet—oh, [ wanted you Priscilla leaned up against him as | he sat on the big leather arm of her chair. “And I've wondered for a long time when you were going to tell me so. I've known it—yes, I have, Tom,” she said, hiding her face in his sleeve. If a word to the wise is sufficient, few men are wise. Hibernation. All sleep is phenomenal, but the surrounded by frigid weather, and ‘when all functions that make for the Dest of life are as if they had mever been, is most curious. While it is mainly explicable it is none the less astonishing. Origin of Auction Sales. Auction sales originated in an- clent Rome, and were introduced to engble soldiers to dispose of spoils of war. | walked disconsolately down to the | [SLAND CASTAWAYS By CLARISSA MACKIE. { WW ‘ | (Copyright, 1915 by the McClure Newspa- |} ver Syndicate.) o The lake steamer touched at Pine island and left a solitary passenger— a decidedly pretty young woman, whe i Mona Fairlee walked down the long pier to the shore, where the red-| shingled roof of the Bensons' summer camp peeped through the surrounding ine trees. % S\let reached the cottage and stood amazed to discover that doors and windows were closely shuttered. Plnel camp had -every appearance of being| closed for the season, although it was nly the first of August. g S’;mething must have happened to change the summer plans of the Ben- | | gons, who were distant cousins of M“"::'hu shall 1 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; special SALES Each Saturday © and Monday quarrel and a hasty parting. Mona | had written a long letter to Edith Beo- 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 auy moment. Mona was growiag hungry. She| 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- gry she was! “I may not have an-| other bite to eat until tomorrow,” thought Mona, throwing all precept: to the winds. “If he were here I am | sure he would share them with me— and yet 1 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. Mcna was afraid of thunder storms. There came a long, rumbling roll of thunder and she fled to the front ve- randa of the cottage, where she sought a sheltered 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 Monu's pale, frightencd face with quizzical eyes, e A wave of color flamed into Mona's | cheeks. “I was hungry,” she explained meekly. “If I had known I would have starved 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—I will go—J beg your pardon,” he said huflily. At that instant there came a hiss. inp sbriek of white flame that played up aud 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 doving here, Dick?” she asked faintly. “I have an idea,” said Dick slowly, “that Edith received your letter ye‘s- terday, and, conceiving the idea of bringing about a reconciliation be- tween us, wired me to come up. Then they left us marooned on the island, and—well, it happened just as she planned! Here they come now, two boatloads! Let us go down to the pier and meet them.” The sun was shining when they reached the end of the pier. 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” Modern Improvements. *“They certainly are improving om the old style of sending things. They can even telegrapb photographs now.” “Yes, and I notice that presents of fowers can be wired." 'Plaster, Sash, Doors, Oils | Garden Tools, Hoes, Rakes, Hand Plows g | |2 “So it was you!" he laughed softly. \g I B ‘The Wilson Hardware Co. Place of Business Is where you SHOULD GO at all times for HARDWARL Building Material Such as Lime, Cement, Brick, Wall Paints, Stains & Varnishes § Stoves, Ranges, Oil and Gasoline Boss Ovens Farming Implements, Plows, Cultivators Our highest Ideals are Quality ano Service Come to see us and let us supply your needs WILSO! HARD Must Little Homeless Children Suffer In Florida? . WE DO NOT BELIEVE that the good people of Flor ida reulize that there are right now in our State Hundred of hl-th children in real need—some absolutely homeless that just must be cared for. We feel sure—that the: dreds of worthy motherg to keep their little ones ey do not know that there are hu™ in Florida who are just struggli®f alive—and at home. We just cannot believe—that with these facts true—3nd every orphanage in Florida crowded to the doors—that the people of Florida will Jet ou; i for 850 of these little ones Aol el deog Y of funds to keep it up, needed—right now—p], s —Vlease send wha —t0 V. COVlng'tcm, Preanires b t you can to-day The Children’s Home Society of Florida . Ml’. Greatest Charit S ey JACKSONVILLE, FLA