Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, May 21, 1915, Page 7

CORDANT NOTES By VICTOR REDCLIFFE. o < pyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) will never speak to Ruth Blinn , never!” resolutely, almost spite- declared pretty but impetuous Morton. “I don’t care if she been my best friend. She scan- ed me when she spread the news 1 was trying to catch Nelson e for a beau. I'll write her a few ng words that will settle her!” Avis Morton hastily dashed off one line. It read: “You need r come and see me again.” st then the postman came. There a letter for Avis. She opened it. eyes brightened, her fair face hed with pleasure. It was from self same Nelson Wade of whom was in fact thinking a good deal of the time. It read: “I have ething of great importance to say vou. May I call tomorrow eve- 2 and Avis flutteringly guessed t the “something of great impor- e" might be, and with little thrills meating even the tips of her slim br fingers, wrote the single line: hall be very glad to see you.” st then from the Kkitchen her her's voice called her. Avis was hurried—and happy—to think of hision of her informal two notes, even of signatures. She hastily dled the brief missives into en- opes, sealed them, addressed them. sister came through the room. Here, Alice,” she called out, “just | these, will you, dear? and buy prself some bonbons with the nge,” and she gave the letters and wenty-five cent piece to her spoiled, ling younger sister and hurried to n her mother, singing to herself. | wish 1 hadn’t sent the letter to th, she reflected a few minutes er. “I've got all over my tiff. 1 ppose it's—it's because 1 feel so I will Never Speak to Ruth Blinn Again, Never!” riendly towards Nelson—I mean Mr. ‘ade,” and Avis hid her face in her ands for a moment, as the overpow- ring revelation rushed into her heart hat she truly loved Nelson Wade. He was worthy of her in every ense of the word. Only recently he pad started in business. His father had left him a vacant building on the nain street of the town. There was oom for another—scarcely directly here, for one Winsted had one two floors east Nelson, however, could hot afford to let his own property tand idle, so he started up. Now Winsted had been “shining round” Avis, or rather trying to, for long time. He was of a mean, jeal- ous disposition and he hated Nelson he first time he saw him in the com- pany of Avis. He hated him all the more fiercely when he saw the new store openeq. Nelson was pleasant, patient, accom- modating. The better class of custo- mers had already selected him as their purveyor. Seeing his trade di- mish Winsted said hotly: “I'll put that tenderfoot out of bus- iness in a week!” Then he set to planning and plot- tinz. He “ha-ha’d!” after a day's so- journ in the rural districts in a cov- | ered wagon. ‘Il fancy I've got a hot pepper in store for Wade!” he gloated . The next morning Nelson went whis- in & cheerily about his store, until a ’r arrived. He knew it was from He had seen her handwriting before His heart beat fast, his eyes fparkled. He opened the envelope agerly. He scanned the single line ¥ritten on a sheet of paper. You need never come and see me again,” and Nelson gasped, turned pale, saw life and all its joys sudden- I¥ vanish, and fairly fell against a fugar barrel, overcome. His helper, Will Daley, a bright brisk young fellow, wondered for the REXt hour what made “the boss act 0 dopey © Then came a new blow. It never rains but ftreet door and glancing towards the §tore of his rival, he saw a big black | To Cure Hysteria. wr 0 rest. Penaity She Had to Pay. rene’s mother is a woman of ad- vidced ideas. A few days ago whea there came bad weather Irene went o8 to a neighbor’s porch and looked tbrough the inviting window where 2ie was comfortably engaged with hh: vlaythings. “Why don’t you come ' I'm just having a dandy time ;‘:: my Nose ark.”, “No,” sobbed e, “T'yy ide and be o '® got to stay outsid 1t pours!” | Eraned poor Nelson, as going to the | 2D mustard plasters on hznds, | soles and palms, and allow D& | on reading, “Stock cents a dozen!” Now ©ggs were a luxury just then and thirty ceats woulg be cheap. There were half-a-dozen great tubs out: side of the Winsted store, filled to the brlllm with fresh looking hen fruit. Twenty cents!” tared “\\{{hnt does it mean?” _Hle so0on guessed, when Dal him that he had heard that ;{n;’elg had made the boast publicly that “he Was going to run that interloper out of ?uainess. if it busted him!" Nelson roused up. His apparent turn down from Avis made his heart Bilik like lead, but he was a fighter. ‘How many eggs have we got in the store?” he asked of Daley. “Thirty dozen,” reported his helper a few minutes alter. “And Winsted has dreds!” 8 glaring background, UP now—eggs twenty endless hun- muttered Nelson. “All the a fifteen cent sign.” | “Why, that's ruinous!” cried Daly. | “Never mind. well keep up the ;flsht while there’s any ammunition | left,” declared Nelson It took his mind off from Avis, the active battle of the ensuing few hours, and that was a good thing for Nelson, The whole town was excited. Every- body came to buy eggs to Nelson finally. “Mr. Wade,” he said, “we're all sold 1 out but six dozen. I've a suggestion to make. You know I'm the deputy drillmaster of the Boy Scouts? They'll do anything to help me—whisper!’ and Daley divulged a bright scheme under his breath. Now what Daley did was to provide every able bodied comrade in town with the money to buy a dozen of eggs of Winsted. These replenished Wade's stock so rapidly that Winsted was soon sold out. Nelson kept on selling until closing up time, while his rival, infuriated over “the cheap trick,” had probably learned a costly lesson that he did not care to re- peat. But what was all the world to Nel- son beside Avis! The briskness of rivalry over and done with, his mind returned to the cld misery. But fate was weaving a new chain of circumstances for relief. Ruth had received a note. It said: “I shall be very glad to see you.” Ah, a reconcil- iation! Avis was astonished at the appearance of Ruth, and then out came the note. Avis blanched as she comprehended a mistake. Then, as in the old times anew she cemented their old confidence and friendship by bursting into tears and telling how she had mixed the letters “Oh, my dear, I'll soon adjust that!" pledged the sprightly Ruth. Nelson was up at daylight next morning. He could not sleep for his woe. Destiny must have led him past the Blinn home. Ruth rushed out. “Oh, Mr. Wade!" she cried, “T've got a letter for you."” She thrust the “right” letter sent to the “wrong” person into his hand. “Why, what does this mean?" stam- mered the heart-broken swain. Daley came { *“Can't you read it?" demanded | Ruth. “Yes, but—" me. The one you got—but that wasn't meant, for Avis and I had a little tift.” And then Nelson Wade went home, his step lightened, his heart throbbing with sore happiness. And that evening he told Avis what he thought of her, and the next day sent to the city for a diamond ring. CHEDUL]TY COMMON TO ALL No Rumor So Unreasonable That Somebody Cannot Be Found Who Will Believe It. Credulity is a characteristic of more people than one would believe at first thought about it. Not a rumor can be so unreasonable but someone gives it credit. However well known a man may be for his uprightness and ability, let a hint of something derogatory be made and there are those to believe it and enlarge and spread the tale. These are the people on whom un- scrupulous promoters grow fat. They believe the best story told them about “the grandest investment known,” the “sure thing,” and all their savings go into it. When all 1s irretrievably gone, they cannot understand how it could be, when “he told me so and s0.” It is these people who buy gold bricks or put themselves out of their way to change a $20 or a $100 bill for a stranger “in trouble.” For, in spite of all warnings, there are those who 1 8till do this | Credulity is exhibited in the belief in myths, in omens and prophecies, in dreams and visions. How many intel ligent persons refuse to be one of thir- teen at table, tremble if they spill salt, see a £ign in it if they find a pin or a horseshoe on their walks Many profess not to believe in signs, yet act as if they did. Few have not some pet superstition or individual belief 1n the supernatural. Why do we go on putting some things beyond the pale of our experience and common sense, believing the same kind of thing we think others foclish for thinking ot = Milwaukee Journal Prehistorl: Man in Australia. At the recent meeting of the Brit- fsh association in Australia Profes- sors Edgeworth David and Wilson de- scribed a completely mineralized hu- man skull found near Warwick 1n the Darling downs of ¢ ensland It probably dates from a period when the great fossil marsupials were still living and is earller than any m.hm human remains hitherto found in Aug tralsa —Scientific American Expensive Woed. | One of the most expensive woods used regularly In an established in- | dustry in the United States is box- | woou, the favorite material for wood carving. It has been quoted at four cents a cubic inch and about $1,300 by the thousand board feet ——— rkable Strength. AnA:l:. cna.n.m:&rry a grain of corn ten times the weight of its own body, wmoghonemdnmumma burden only about equal to their owa weight. Nelson. | same, put them outside and stick up | “It was intended for you and sent to ! L —— (CYNTHIN'S NEW FLAME 1 How the OId One Was Taught a Lesson. ! - By JOANNA SINGLE. leading haste to be at home, - ‘!hln left the chattering womex?’:f |the Ladles’ Aid of Cloverton and struck out by herselt on the shorter | Way across the flelds. The babel of tongues wearled her, and the endless |talk of husbands and bables and | cooking. Of the fifteen women she | | was the only unmarried one, and felt | like an outsider. As she had entered the meeting a little late she had heard Mrs. Gal- loway’s shrill voice saying: “Well, why don't she marry Rob- | ert Jackson? He's the salt of the earth, and his little girls adore her. ‘ She won't get a better chance at her age.” Cynthia' was thirty-two. “It a4 woman don’t want a home of her own with & man and young ones in t, I say something ails her! Per- | haps she's fretting over some old flame!” Then the others saw Cyn- thia and tried to silence Mrs. Gal- loway, whose mind was like a rag- bag from which she pulled any sort of a thought at random and usually at the embarrassing moment. But she was not easily silenced. “Sam Galloway,” she shrilled on, “was my only chance, an’ I didn’'t throw it away because my eye was sot on some feller I couldn't get! I never was a beauty, but Sam don't know it—" She finally saw Cynthia standing, tall and quiet, in the door- way and ceased her chatter. Cynthia got away the moment she could at the meeting’s close. And how did they know about Robert Jackson wanting her? Surely he had not told, surely she had not. They only met casually, and she always refused to let him come to see her in the pretty cottage where she lived quite alone since her mother's death. And—could any one know that she was still waiting for Mark Carter, who had not even written her for ten years? Now, walking across the Septem- ber fields, still green, she came to a small bit of woodland, and turning into it came face to face with Robert Jack- son, striding along, tall and straight and finc for all the gray at his tem- ples. “Well,” he sald, “this 18 luck for me! Everything was lovely today “ls It Asking a Great Deal of You.” and needed only a sight of you. Com- | ing from Ladies' Aid?” He turned to walk with her, his quick sense aware that something troubled her, his intention being to find what it was and to help her. Her straightforward eyes met his and she half smiled. In running ’away from chatter she had run into i the very love-making she wished to avold. 5 “Cynthia,” said the man, “I have to take the few chances I have to speak to you. I have to tell you that I can’t take a refusal from you— not yet! You know how I want you. You know that it is a real love. I think you know it isn't simply that 1 want to marry again—you know— my marriage wasn’t happy. My lit- tle folks—I couldn't give them up even for you, but they could go to their grandmother for a year if you felt they would be too much for you at first. It is asking a great deal of you to look after two children not your own—but if you loved me— Tell me, could you love me—it it waen't for them?” They were just coming into the fields again, and he stopped short, his hat in his hand, waiting for an an- swer. For the first time a resisting something within her gave way be- fore him. He somehow warmed her heart—she was a normal woman. It was something just to be loved like this and perhaps she could learn to love him in return—as for the chil- | dren, they were her temptation. She | wanted them. | “It's—not the children” she sald, “J—you know how I flughing deeply. love them.” He snatched at her hand eagerly. “Then it is I whom you must learn to love,” he went on with his plea, and she listened, not seeing where she was until they had almost reached the road upon which stood her home. ; | Then she raised her eyes and in spite | of herself stood blushing like a girl; of sixteen, A half dozen of the wom: Straln on Ticket Office Man. A man in the ticket office on a busy day has to concea! his real feelings so much that he gets to be a better actor than some of tie pecple on the stage. B i —ia— Curse of Idleness. Idleness is the baage of gentry, and the bane of body and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the atepmother of dis- cipline; the chief author of all mis- chief, one of the seven deadly sins, en from whom she had fled stood laughing before her, and Mrs. Gallo- Wway, never slow of speech, rallied her. “Well! 1 see now why you were in such a hurry to get home! How many beaux you got, any way? Don't blame you for sneakin’ off to meet a good lookin’ man like Robert Jackson, but, say, who’s the good-lookin’ other fellow down the road apiece, who asked us the way to your house? There he goes now, up to your porch. We told him you was comin’. Who is he?” Cynthia laughed, but a queer pre- sentiment gripped her. “Perhaps he wants to sell some- thing, or insure the house, or me— or any one of a thousand things. I'm going to see,” she said pleasantly. She started past them when Mrs. Galloway broke out in a new place. “Guess one or two of us ought to go with ye—a stranger like that——" Anger and perplexity shone in Cynthia's face as she turned to look at the woman, but Robert Jackson came to her rescue. He took his stand beside her. “I think a man would be better. I'll go with her, and you need not go to the trouble, Mrs. Galloway.” His firm, courteous tone was a dismissal that would have no denial. Calling a good-by to the women, Cynthia and her escort came to the gate. The little house was set far back in a green yard, and up near the house the stranger, seeing her approach, stood and waited. Some- thing in his bearing disturbed, al- most smothered her. “I'm afraid—I think—it's some one T used to know,” she faltered. There was something in her face that sent both fear and hope to the heart of the man beside her. He stood in her way a moment. “Cynthia,” he said, “now is my time to speak! If this is a man whom you once thought you cared about—if he has left you alone all these years without the sternest of good reasons —don’'t allow yourself to think you still love him, unless you really do now for what he is now. An old flame is not always as good to warm your heart at as a new one. You're sure of me, Cynthia. Now—shall I go away, or——" Her thought clung to him, but there was that about Mark that had always fascinated and held her. Now it left her weak and trembling. “You might come with me, Rob- ert.” For the first time she had unconsciously used his name. Together they went to meet Mark Carter. He came toward her with a smile, medium of height, of good bearing, the old half-insolent, confi- dent look on his handsome fair face, a look that had better become Mark the boy than Mark the man. He held out his hand. “Cynthia,” he sald, uncovering his head with its fair, heavy hair, “I have come back. You knew I would come back, didn’t you?” “How—could — I know? You — didn’t write,” she faltered the words out in her excitement, unaware that she was mnot introducing the two men. “I—it took me a long time to make good. I wouldn’t come to a woman empty-handed—and T haven't” There was a little swagger in his voice and manner. “And—women are faithful. 1 knew that you——" “You knew,” she sald quietly, “that you went away and left me— caring for you, but not even really engaged—you never asked me to marry you—and still you expected me to wait—without even a word, to spend my life waiting until you—" He came closer, the old light in his face, triumph in his voice. “But you have walted!"” Cynthia’s glance met the gaze of Robert Jackson and found in him a| refuge. “I have not,” she said, for Robert had come close and had taken her hand as a lasting possession into his. Mark Carter looked at them silently a moment. “I am going to marry Robert Jackson.” “Well,” answered Mark Carter, “I guess I deserved it all right. T guess he’s worth it—and I have learned to know men, Cynthia. Good-by.” He turned and walked away. (Copyright, 1912, by the McClure News- paper Syndicate.) Night Jobs for the Jeweler. Under the jewelers’ letter box and | door bell was a second bell labeled | “Jeweler's night bell.” plain,” sald the visitor. ing for diamonds and wedding rings 0 insatiable that you have to get up at night to meet the demand?” “It i3 not the prospect of making a =ale that gets me out of bed after midnight,” said the jeweler, “but the migfortunes of my fellow-man. About the only people who ring me up after | wa king hours are those who have a pioce of jewelry on that they can't ¢t off and don't dare to wear until morning for fear of blood poisoning. These accidents happen pretty often. Fvery doctor and police officer in this part of town knows that I can be routed out in an emergency case, 80 ail rings that must be filed off swollen fingers, all earrings that must be re- moved from inflamed ears, all neck- laces and bracelets that must be taken from bruised necks and wrists without delay are brought to me.” Childish Ingenuity. Small Ellsworth was returning a bor rowed book. “Now, be sure not to get it dirty,” said his mother, as she wrapped it in paper and knotted the string. When he returned she asked: you keep the book clean?” “Yes,” answered the boy; “I dropped it in the mud once, but I took off the paper and turned it “Did Best to Earn One’s Own. Persons industriously oecupying themseives thiive better on a little of their own honest getting than lazy heirs on the large reveanues left unto them.—T. Fulier. Daily Thought. Much of the charm of life is ruined by exacting demands of confidence. . Those who wish to destrey all f: ‘nntary i those they love to have everything revealed, are unconscious the cushion upon which the devil |1y killing their own happiness.—Stop- chiefly reposes. | | the girl. A SHY MAN'S WOOING By GEORGE MUNSON. L L (Copyright, 1915, by W G Nobody had believed in William Merritt. He had been a dreamy, im- aginative boy and bad lost half a dozen positions in his native village. An orphan, brought up by a distant relative who used him badly, he had shaken the dust off his feet and gone to the meiropolis to earn a livelihood. Ten years later, a man of thirty- two, he was a national character. His bridge across the Potomac was consid- Chapman.) sred a triumph of American engineer- ! ing. The tunnel which he had driven across the Kill van Kull had been made the model for all such undertak- ings in America and Europe. With all his success and wealth he was still desperately lonely. His sue- ress had been wenius and application. To his per- sonality the shy man owed nothing. And there bad come to him a long- ing to show himsell before those who had jeered him and win their esteem. Ile did nct long for amny personal triumph over them He tkought of Nettie Haines, the lit- tle girl who had lived across the street from him. They had been child- hood swecthearts, and he had told her that one day he would marry her. Doubtless she wus married now and had long ago forgotten him. He thought of Saunders, who had dis- missed him from the grocery store; Boyce, the undertaker, for whom he had worked during one long week. And he went back. He registered at the only hotel the village boasted and made himself known to Flaxman, the proprietor. The man shook hands with him coldly enough. “Glad to sce you back again, Mr. Merritt,” he enid. *“Mr wee? O yes, he's flourishing. Saunders does the same old businesg.” Merritt had been too shy to ask for Nettie. He made his way up the street place. The man did not at first. recognize h “Well, I'm glad to see you,” he said, when his visitor had expiained his purpose in calling. Saunders' greeting was still more frosty. Ile recollected Morriit and was glad he was doing so well. As Merritt turned to leave, with a sense of disillusionment in his heart, he saw a young woman bending industrious- iy over a hoap of bilis in Saunders’ shop. It was Nettie, his old sweet- heart, Impulsively he strode up to her. W Nettie—NMiss Iaines!” he ex- claimed. She recognized him and her face grew red. “How do you do, Mr. Mer- ritt,” she said demurely. Shy as he was, Merritt managed to get into conver:ation with her. Un der the watchful glances of Sanunders he sveecccded in stammering out a re quest to vieit her that evening. “It used to be Will,” he said, when the greeted that night as Mr. Merritt. “Well, Will, then,” she returned, laughing. *“I do hope you have had good luck.” He locked at her in amazement ilad she not heard of him? He was not a vain man, but it seemed incredi- ble, when ull the newspapers and magazines bad been full of his suc cess. “Yes, I have done pretty well,” he answered slowly, “I am so glad to hear it,” answered rid people @re. I—but I suppose 1 shouldn't be saying it. He pressed her to tell him. “You remember how we used to tell euch other everything,” he pleaded. Nettie colored slightly. *“Well,” she continued, “Mr. Lioyce said he sup posed you had come back to try to get a job in town, and were dressed up te make a bluff. And he szid you'd never get anything in his place, and M Saunders agreed that it was the same us far as Le was concerned. 1 felt sc humiliated, and I am go glad to learn that it isn’t so at all.” Merritt was thunderstruck So thesc people had never heard of him at all He had ascribed their coldness to the natural reserve of a little community instead of which he was, in their eyes the same ne'er-do-well, the same ir capable. And Nettie did not know “Nettie,” he enid, taking her nand “do you remember that time we found a dime in the road and 1 split it in twe and we divided it?” “Perfectly, Mr. Mcrritt,” ¢he replied smiling. “And do you remember what [ sai¢ to yeu then?” “Ne, William. That part has escaped v wmemory altogether.” “Would you like me to remind you?" The girl's eyes, which had be jowncast, were suddenly raised to h “I told you that that made us sweet hearts, and that some day 1 should marry you,” gaid the man, He saw that she was trembling, ana {n that moment he knew fhat he had always loved her, and that it was providence which had kept him aloof and uncontzminated by the world, for this end only. And she did not know anything of him, of his wealth. “Will you marry me, dear? ne asked. “I can support a wife in com fort,” he continued whimsically. He drew her into his arms and k.sged her. “You see, I have alwayr 1ad the habit of meaning what I say, 1e continued “Will. dexr, T have toved you all my ilfe,” she answered. Roumanlans Fond of Dress. The men of Roumania are very fond of dress, and they have a popular say- ing which runs, “The stomach has mo mirror.” Its meaning is that rather than be shabby a Roumanian should go hungry. The peasant costume of Roumania is very artistic, every vil- lage having its own set of colors. By the hue of his dress a peasant shows the locality he hails from. Cause of Waterfall’'s Roar. The roar of a waterfall is produced almost entirely by the bursting of mil- ‘ions of air bubbles. the result of native | “You have ro idea how hor- | YOU SEE THIS PICTURE? THIS 1S NO FANCY, IT’S R FACT. YOU CAN’T GROW A TREE WITHOUT R RUOT; YOU CAN’T BUILD A HOUSE WITH- WHEN YOU ARE OLD. START ONE NOW. OUT A FOUNDATION; YOU CAN'T BUILD A FORTUNE WITH- OUT PUTTING MONEY INTO THE BANK TO GROW. AND IT IS MIGHTY COMFORTABLE TO HAVE A FORTUNE BANK SOME OF YOUR EARNINGS. BANK WITH US. WE PAY 5 PER CENT INTEREST ON TIME DEPOSITS. American State Bank BE AN AMERICAN, ONE OF US.” Flour! 98 Ib. 24 Ib. 12 Ib. CHEAP 29 Now is the Time to Lay In a Supplv P Sacks Best Plain Flour Sacks Best Plain Flour Sacks Best Plain Flour Srlf-Rising Flour Flour! $3.85 1.00 50c 4.00 T - Do Doubt You saw-dust before the will PHONE 76 Doing Her Share. “It 8 & pity, my dear Mrs. Gotham, that you New York soclety women “on't give up more of your time to raising money for the poor.” I“ly dear Marjorie, how can you say | such a thing? Haven't 1 sat up until G. TWLEDELL PHONE 59 a2l el { 2> L7 Saw Some Dust At the County Fair We hope youn inay also see some of our other words we hope you will soon Get Busy on that Building vou have been talking about and that you see us for Your Lumber and Material Lakeland Manufacturing Company ‘ —— season is over; in LAKELAND, FLA. Sarcastic Married Man, “Yes,” said the bachelor, with the conscious pride of sacrifice. “I make a point of giving up certain pleasures during Lent.” ‘Huh!™ snorted the married man. “You bachelors have a cinch on (hat sort of thing. What are two o'clock for three nights now play- | forty days to three hundred and sixty- ing charity bridge?'—Life. Bve?"—Town Topics.