New Britain Herald Newspaper, August 11, 1921, Page 4

HOLDING A HUSBAND Adele Garrison’s New Phase of Revelations of a Wife How Dicky Solved One Angle of the Grace Draper Problem. Dicky topped suddenly in his strid- ing up and down the tiny level space upon the top of the hill, ran his fingers through his abundant hair twice, tossed a troublesome forelock back, and came up to the car. That he had decided the question of hav- 4ng or not having Grace Draper as model, I knew, for his actions were charaeteristic of his moments of de- cision, and my throat constricted with actual physical pain while I waited for him to speak. “I suppose, as long as you're wil- ling,”” he began lamely, almost shamefacedly, thew “traightened him-. self, put his hands upon my shoulders and looked steadily down into my eyes. “It's Up to You—" “It’s up to you, old girl, absolute- ly,” he said. “I won't deny that getting her back as a model for these particular drawings would mean an awful Jot to me. I probably mever would need her again, for while there are plenty of fussy he-old-maids like Pennington in the book world, there is no one but Pennington with prestige enough to be able to carry things through with so high a hand. But in this particular emergency I don’t deny she would be a life-saver. If Pennington is pleased I'll be the white-haired boy with Percy again, and as he gives me over half my work, that's some item—to say noth- ing of whére I'd be if it got blurted around, as it surely would, that Pennington had refused my stuff, and Percy had turned me down.” “Why annoy yourself with dwelling upon unpleaant things that Are never going to happen?” I said courage- ously. “She would undoubtedly be glad to pose for you again.” “It is not a question of her, but of you,” Dicky retorted. “I know you've said you are willing, and it's per- fectly bully of you to propose it, but if this thing is going to cause you any annoyance or unpleasantness, I'm not going through with it.” His voice was sincerity itself, and I knew that he believed what he said, but I could not help the caus- tic little reflection that if T toox him at his word and rescinded the per- mission I had given he would be dis- tinctly resentful. “There will be neither annoyance nor unpleasantness for me, I am sure,” I said steadily. *“So let’s not discuss that phase of it any longer.” What Madge Asked Herself. #“All right, you bully girl!” He pulled me to him roughly, kissed me warmly, and spoke with crisp de- cision as he finished: “Understand one thing. I neither interview this dame nor have her pose for those illustrations without you or mother or some one equally alert present. She’'s no doubt the original repentant sinner at the mourners’ berch, but she’s a trifle too foxy to be thoroughly trustworthy and I'm not going to risk having her trying the stunt on you ‘she did be- fore.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he were throwing off an unpleasant memory, and, indeed, I well knew from my own feeling what must be {his aversion to any thought of that old time. “Now the next thing,” he said briskly, “is to decide wher she shall stay while I '~ make the necessar sketches. That is, of course, pro- vided she consents. Let's see, this is Wednesday. If you write today we can hardly expect a letter before Friday at the latest. Well! That will give me plenty of time IJf I know her decision before I go in Monday, that's all I need. But we'd better decide where she’s to stay be- fore you write her, so that you can give her all the data.” “Yes, of course,” I returned, a bit absently, for my brain was busy with this new and vexing problem of where to house Grace Draper. Of all the bizarre situations, I thought to myself sardonically, that I should be revolving this problem in my mind ! “Of course, she can’'t be seen in this neighborhood,” Dicky said thoughtfully, “on account of Dad and Lil. How you’re ever going to man- age them anyway, I don’t see. But you've said to leave it to you, and I'm the most obedient husband in captivity. And she ought not to travel on the trains or highways leading out of her if what she says about. being shadowed is true. At that, she ought to be able to olude the sleuths at that end; they havent drawn, any cordon around her, I fancy—" his voice held heavy sar- casm and I knew that he secretly re- sented the espionage which Hugh Grantland and Allen Drake were keeping up on my adcount—"It's near you that they'll look for her if {she’s missing from her arcustomed haunts, therefore—I have it—Shelter Island ! He struck his ¢losed fist on his knee—a little habit of his when he has solved a vexing problem. “I must be getting aphasia that I didn’t think of that before,” he said with disguest. “She can come to Shelter Island from Greenport, crossing the ferry, while we motor over from here across the Norta Haven ferry from Sag Harbor. She can get a taxi or a street car from Hempstead to Mineola, take the mid- dle island line out, and never be seen on the south shore route at all. And there’s the bulliest little hotel in the woods out there, frequented by old people, nervous cases and sometimes by those who would rather escape observation. It's the ideal place for her to stop. all the dope now, so you can write to her as soon as possible.” I took a little pad and pencil from |- my bag, preparing to take his data down. And as I did so, I could not help a little curious wonder that Dicky should be so familiar with tha various entrances to Shelter Island, and its possibilities for staging romance and intrigue. 'y © - oA -~ X { i = ¢ s A ) ln“ S B RN I'l nh!'-ln_ nphug A R \4 -— \ Unless otherwise noted, these notices are written by the press buresus of the theater or attractions with which they @eal. “REVENGE OF TARZAN” AT THE PALACE Gene Pollar, who plays Tarzan in the mnewest screen sensation of the day, entilled ‘“The Revenge of Tar- zan,” Js six feet, three inches tall and shaped like a modern version of a Greek god. The handsome Gene was chosen to play what is perhaps the most difficult role in motion picture history, not only because of his ap- pearance but Lecause of his nerve and - ajhletic prowess. He needed them all in ‘“The Reveng2 of Tarzan. In one scene, Pollar fights single- handed against a gang of ten ruffians in an spache dive, and throws' them sbout the room like so many nine- pins.. In another, Gene drops from a tree upon the back of an enormous PALACE] Today, Friday, Saturday The Thrilling Wild Animal Photo- play ¥ “The Revenge of | Tarzan” | You have never seen anything like it' before Keith Vaudeville ALL HEADLINERS —Now Playing — MAY ALLISON ‘The Last Card’ VAUDEVILLE FEATURING BETTY'S BACK with BOOTH BETTY KEYSTONE COMEDY FOUR VAN DALE SISTERS BILLY WALSH GEQ. & LILLIAN MITCHELL lion, hungry and spoiling for fight. The ensuing battle is one of the most thrilling episodes in a gorgeously ex- citing photoplay, shown at the Palace Thursday, Friday and Saturday. a new Keith vaudeville bill starts Thurs- day for the balance of the week, and features four headliners. BETTY BOOTH AT LYCEUM. Miss Betty Booth, late prima donna who appeared in ‘‘Sinbad’’ will appear at the Lyceum for the last three days of this week in a sketch entitled ‘‘Bet- ty’s Back.”” The Keystone quartet, Billy Walsh and three other good acts. Miss May Allison, the great feminine actress will be seen in her latest picture ““The Last Card.”” Many wilt remem- ber seeing the ‘“13th Chair’’ and will be highly entertained in the same line. Other pictures of merit will also be seen. For next week the management has secured the biggest vaudeville act comprised of the well known Broadway stars to appear at the Lyceum for the New Britain public. CAPITOL—HARTFORD A beautiful prologue, supposedly laid in the Garden of Eden, with characters representing Adam and Eve, precedes the main action and supples the motif of the story of ‘The Tree of Knowledge’ which will be shown at the Capitol the last three days of the week. ‘‘Step Lively'’ is the last word in terpsichor- ean rapid transit. With the aid of a male quartet, Mildred Rogers offers a dance cycle which is speed from start to finish. Bryant and Stewart bring along ‘‘In-Sane’’ that proves to be a tomedy and song <invention. It's a hign powered concoction of amusement. Melodies right from songland are those sung by Marie Gaspar, as attractive a singer as vaudeville possesses. For ease and grace of most difficult gymnastic feats Herbert and Dare, with their startlers, place themselves in the fron’ rank of stage athletes. Gouraud's Oriental Cream rn give you| “THE DUKE URS DAY, OF CHIMNEY BUTTE” By G. W. OGDEN The Romance of a Chivalrous Adventurer in the Lawless West. (Copyright, 1920, A. (Continueq from Yesterday’s Herald.) Jim Wilder, a cowboy who is not too popular en the range, thinking that Jeremiah Lambert, a peddler, Who rode into camp on a bicycle, was a green tenderfoot, offered him his own horse, which was somewhat o! an outlaw, if he could ride it. Lam- bert, who formerly broke range horses for a living at the Chicago stock yards, rode the animal without diffi- culty, whereupon Wilder, who waa only bluffing, attempted to take back his horse. In the fignt which ensued, Lambert i3 cut, but not seriously, with a knife wielded by Wilder. Tha lat- ter's knife is taken from him by a cowboy named Spence, who in turn is shot by Wilder, who fleea from camp. Lambert gave chase, returning at dusk leading Wilder's horse. There was blood on the empty saddle. Lambert, now known a3 “Tha Duke of Chimney Butte,” makes a new record in the little town by racing hit horse against the flyer, overtak- ing the train long enough to receiva 2 handkerchiet tossed him from the observation platform of the Pullman car. Later he starts out in search of the girl of the hanagerchief, in com- pany with a cowboy named Taterleg. The men ‘arrive in Glendora, where The Duke expects tv find that Miss Vesta Philbrook, whose father had died 3 few weeks before is the girl of the handkerchiet. They find Misa Vesta ia not tho girl they ara seeking but are in time to come to her rescue as she is attacked by two Vesta tells Duke that neighboring ranchers take exceptions to her fences and cut them just as fast as she can repair them. Duke and Taterleg of- fer to work for her and put a stop to this practice if they can. A ranch- er named Kerr is the worst offender. One night Duke finds the fence cut and a netc fastened to the wires which reads: “Why don’t you come and get me Duke?”’ He vowed he ‘would. s He 4id. He gave chase the next time he say someone cutting the fence and was astonished to find—not a cowboy but Kerr'd daughter, who turned out to be the girl of the Pullman. He makes a truce with her whch she breaks by laying a trap for him. His foot was in the stirrup when a quick rush sounded behind him. He saw the man on the ground spring to his feet, and quick on the conscious- ness of fact there came a blow that stretched him as stiff as a dead man. Lambert came to himself with a half-drowned sense of suffocation. Water was falling on his head, pour- ingsover his face, and there was the confused sound of human voices around him. As he cleared he real- ized that somebody was standing over him, pouring water on his head. He struggled to get from under the drowning stream. A man laughed, shook him, cursed him vilely close to his ear. “Wake up, little feller, somebody’s said another, taking hold of him from the other side. “Don’t hyrt him, bays,” admonished a third voice, which he knew for Berry Kerr’'s, “this is the young man who come to the Bad Lands with a mission. He's going to teach people to take off their hats to barbed-wire fences. I wouldn’t have him hurt for a keg of nails.’ As his senses cleared Lambert rec- ognized the men beside him as Nick Hargus and the half-Indian Tom. Be- hind him he belleved S8im Hargus rode, making it a family party. In such hands, with such preliminary usage, it began to look very grave for him. They proceeded at a trot, keeping it up for two hours or more. For some time Lambert had noticed a glow as of fire directly ahead of them. It grew and sank as if being teq irregularly, or as if smoke blew before it from time to time. Presently they rounded the base of a hill and came suddenly upon the fire, burning in a gulch, as it seemed, covering a large area, sending up a vast volume of smoke. Lambert had seen smoke in this di- rection many times while riding fence, but could not account for it then any more than he ¢ould now for a little while as he stood facing its origin. Then he understood that this was a burning vein of lignite, such as he had seen traces of in the gorgeously colored soil In other parts of the Bad Lands where the fires had died out and cooled long ago. -At the foot of the steep bank on which Lambert and his captors stood the crust had caved giving he fire air to hasten its ravages. The mass of slowburning fire glowed red and in- tense, covered in places by its own ashes, now sending up sudden clouds of smoke as &n indraft of air Nv- ened the combustion, now smoldering in sullen dullness, throwing off a heat that made the horses draw back. Kerr drew aside on arriving at the fire and sat on his horse looking at it, the light on his face. A man whom he rightly decided was Sim Hargus, pointed to the glowing pit. “That's our little private hell. What do you think of it, kid?” he said, with his grunting, insulting sneer. “It’s this way, Duke. You're a stranger here; theacustoms of this country are not the fashions you're familiar with, and it's foolish, very foolish, and maybe dangerous for you to try to change things around single- handed and alone. We've used you a little rougher than I intended the boys to handle you, but you'll get over it in a lttle while, and we're going to et you go this time. “Bu_we're going to turn you loose with the warning once more to clear out of this country in as straight a line as you can draw, starting right now, and kesping on till you're out of the state.. We'll have to start you off tied up, t0o0, much as I hate to do it. You'll find some way to get loose In & little whils, I guess, a man that's as resourceful and original as you.' ‘Whatever was passing in Lambert’s his bearing. He sat stiff and erect, ok great comfort came to him in her touch. A Next morning Vesta came in ar- rayed in her riding habit, her som- brero on, as she had appeared the . C. McClurg & Co.) | mind, no trace of it was betrayed in the red glow of the intense fire on his face. His bound arms drew his shoulders back, giving him a deflant pose. “Take him out there and head him the right way, boys,” Kerr directed. Tom Hargus rode ahead, leading Whetstone by the reins. Kerr was not following. At Lambert's last sight of him he was still looking into the fire, as if fascinated by the sight of it. A hundred yards or less from the fire they stopped. Tom Hargus turnec Whetstone to face back the way they had come, threw the reins over the saddle-horn, rode up so close Lambert could fecl his breath in his face. “You made me brush off a nigger’s hat when you had the drop on me, and carry a post five miles. That's the shoulder I carried 1t on!” He drove his knife into Lambert’s right shoulder with the words. The steel grated on bone. “I brushed a nigger off under your gun one time, said old Nick Hargus, spurring up on the other side. ‘“Now T'll brush you a little!” Lambert felt the hot streak of a knife-blade in the thick muscle of his back. Almost at the same moment his horse leaped forward so suddenly that it wrenched every joint in his bound, stiff- body squealing in pain. He knew that one of them had plunged a knife in the animal's haunch. There was loud laughter, the sudden rushing of hooves, vells, and curses as they came pressing after him. Whetstone galloped on, mad in the pain of his wound, heading straight toward the fire. Lambert believed, as those who urged him on toward it believed, that no horse man ever rode could jump that fiery gorge. On the brink of it, his pursuers would stop, while he, powerless to check or turn his horse, would plunge over to perish in his bonds smothered under the struggling beast pierced by the transcendent agonies of fire. < This was the last thought that rose coherently out of the turmoil of his senses as the firepit opened before his eyes. He heard his horse squeal again in ths pain of another knife thrust to madden it to its destructive leap. Then a swirl of the confused senses as of released waters, the lift of his hors2 as it sprang, the heat of the fire in his face. As Lambert hung over the fire in that mighty leap, his soul recoiled. His strength rushed into one great cry, which still tore at his throat as his horse struck racking him with a force that seemed to tear him joint from joint. The shock of this landing gathered his dispersed faculties. There was fire around him, there was smoke in his nostrils, but he was alive. His horse ‘was on its feet, struegling fo scramble up the bank on &i'¥h ij®ad landed, the earth breaking under its hinder hoofs threatening to precipitate it back into the fire that its tremendous leap had cleared. CHAPTER VIIL ‘Whetstone Comes Home. It was hours afterward that the fence rider opened his eyes and saw Vesta Philbrook, and closed them again, believing it was a deliriur of his pain. Then Taterleg spoke dh the other side of the bed, and he knew that he had come through his perils into gentle hands. That evening, when the pain had eased out of his head, Lambert told Vesta what he had gone through. “It draws the best into it and breaks them,” she said in bitterness. speaking as to herself. “It isn’t worth the price “Never :nind it, Vesta,” he soothed, putting out his hand She took it between her own, and held it, an¢ a first time he saw her. She was wearing her pistol, and ap- peared very competent with it on her hip, and very high-bred and above that station of contention and strife. He was troubled not a little at sight of her thus prepared to take up the battles which she had renounced and surrendered into his hands only yes- terday. She must have read it in his eye: “I'm only going to watch the fence and repair it to keep the cattle in it they cut it,” she said. “I'll not take the offensive, even if I see her—them cut- ting it; I'll only act on the defensive in any case. I promise that, Duke.” He was uneasy for Vesta that day, in spite of her promise to avoid trouble, and fretted a good deal over But finally he you his incapacitated state. fell asleep. He woke late In the afternoon, when the sun was yellow on the wall, the shadow of the cottonwood leaves quivering like dragonflies' wings. On the little table beside his bed, near his glass, a bit of white paper lay. He looked at it curigusly. It bore writing in ink and marks as of a pin. Just to say hello, Duke. That was the message, unsigned, folded as it had been pinned to the wire. Vesta had brought it and left it there while he slept. He drew himself up with stiff care- fulness and read it again, holding it in his fingers then and gazing in abstraction out of the window, through which he could pick up the landscape acress the river, missing the brink of the e 2sa entirely. No sterner figure ever rode the Bad Lands than Jeremiah Lambert ap- peared eight days after his escape out of the enemi2s’ hands. This morning as he rode about his duty the scar left by Jim Wilder’s knife in his cheek never had appcared so prominent. Tt was evening before he worked through the herd and made it around to the place where Grace Kerr had cut the fence. As he lifted the slope he saw Grace Kerr riding homeward. just mounting the hill over which she must pass in a mo- ment and disappear. He unhooked the wire and rode after her. At the AUGUST 11, 1021. hilltop she stopped, unaware of his coming and looked back. He waved his hat; she waited. B “Have you been sick, Duke?” she inquired, after greetings, looking him over with concern. “My horse bit me,” said he, passing it off with that old stock pleasantry of the range, which covered anything and everything that a man didn’t want to explain. “I'd like to have that horse. you want to sell him, Duke?” “There’s not money enough made to buy him!” Lambert returned. She lifted her brows as she studied his face openly and such a directness that he flushed in confusion, then turned her eyes away slowly. 3 “I liked him that day he outran the flier; I've often thought of him since then.” Lambert looked off over the wild landscape, the distant buttes softened in the haze that seemed to presage the advance of -autumn, considering much. When he looked into her face again it was with the harshness gone out of his eyes. “I started out on him to look for you, expecting to ride him to the Pacific, and maybe double back. I didn’t know where I'd have to go, but I intended to go on till I found you.” ““It seemed almost a joke,” she said, “that we were so near each other and you didn’t know it.” He leaned a little nearer, laying his hand on hers where it rested on her saddle-horn. “You wanted me to come, you, Grace?' “I hoped you might, come some- time, Duke.” He rode with her when she set out to return home to the little valley where he had interposed to prevent a tragedy petween her and Vesta Phil- brook. Neither of them spoke of that encounter. It was avoided in silence as a thing of which both were ashamed. G “Will you be over this way again, Grace? he asked when he stopped to_ part e i “I expect I Wil -Rnke.” “Tamerrow do you thyink?” “Net temorrow,” shaking «er head in the pretty way she had of d-Nmg it when she spoke in negation, like wan earnest chid. “Maybe the next day?” “I expect I may come then, Duke— or what is your real name?” “Jeremidh. Jerry, if you like that better.” “I'll just call you Duke.” He left her with the feeling that he had known her many years. Blood between them? What was blood? Tricker thar. water? Nay, impalpable as smoke. That night Lambe:* felt an unusual restlessness. He was in no mood for his bed. He left Taterleg in the bunk house and went out into the ‘moon- light in search’ of solitude. There was a sound of falling shale on the slope, following the disturb- ance of a quick foot. Vesta was com- ing. She had approached within ten rods of him hefore he saw her, the moonlight on her fair face glorious in her uncovered hair. She came scrambling up, taking the hand that he hastened forward to offer and boost her over the last sharp face of crumbling shale. “I don’t like the notion of your leaving this country whipped, Vesta,” he said. “I don’t like to leave it whipped, Duke,” she said, calm of voice. “But T’'ll have to go to end this trouble and Do didn’t DAILY FAGHION SERVICE, BY MARIAN HALE New York, Aug. 11.—Is there any grown-up devotee of fashion who wouldn’t want time to turn backward and make her a child again ‘‘just for a night’’ and longer—if she could have a party dress and cape like this? No wonder ten-year-old Marguarite Churchill, who posed in these lovely Gloria frocks, looks happy. The ten-year-old and her 11 and 12- year-old ‘‘set’”” have quite as much at- tention given to their fashions as their older sisters. The Gloria party frock of change- able pale blue silk has a basque effect with panniers falling over the cream lace skirt. Georgette roses in pastel shades trim the panniers and one sleeve only is quaintly festooned with these flowers. Tiny bows appear to fasten this frock down the back_ The party eape is of the same blue silk and is lined in orchid georgette with frills in pastel shades. A big beret collar and ruchings of the silk give Miss Ten-Year-Old a very elegant appearance. Little Miss New York is typified in the chic and elegant .gray crepe with its touches of yellow. The straight waist with its short sleeves edged with a pleated frill, is joined to the accordion pleated skirt with garlands of wool flowers, gray with yellow centers. The French bonnet worn with this Gloria frock is of gray with the yellow sug- gestions.. IWHO WOULDN'T LIKE TO BE TEN YEARS OU i' Pl BY ARTHUR SCOTTBILEY SWIMMING. 0O1d dog Spot liked boys. Somehow Ithey always managed to have a lively time; and usually they seemed glad to have him join them in their sports. He never could understand why Johnie Green and the neighbor’'s boys didn’t want him to play baseball with them. Spot loved to chase a ball And sometimes when he was watching a game and somebody hit a slow grounder he would rush out and grab the ball and run with it. Ther all the boys would run after him and try to catch him. That al- 7 No matter what tricks the bogs plaged on him. Spot never lost his temper. ways pleased Spot mightily. And the longer the chase lasted the happier he was. Bu it was different with the boys. The harder they had to run after Spot before they got the “ball away from him the Xfre out of pX.tience they became. 'Whenever Spot took parijin a ball 3@me like that Johnnie Green usually PWt an end to his fun, for the time beilg, by tying him to something or oth&r—perhaps a fence or \ a tree. But \even that was better, 50 Spot thougiyt—than being sent Jome in disgrace: 13 there were other sports in tpuld romp with the boys R - pleased, without any: . Nutting in the ¢ or coasting dovin the long hillpast Farmer Green’s house in the wi berrying in the SumNaer—and s ming! Those were Only w_few » jolly times that Spot and the enjoyed together. g Perhaps of them all, both Spot the boys liked swimming the mog As for Spot, he didn’t care Whelpe he swam, 30 long as the watey was wet. Broad Brook, Swift River Black Creek, or the mill pond—any one of these places suited him as well as another. The boys, however, preferred the mill pond. It was deep enough by the dam to suit the best swimmers; and it was shallow enough at the upper end for those strife.” “I've been wondering, since I'm kind of pledged to clean things up here, whether you'd consider a busi- ness proposal from me in regard to taking charge of the ranch for you while you're gone, Vesta.” ““Well, what sort of a proposal were you going to make, Duke?” “Sheep.” “I'm willing to consider sheep, Duke. Go ahead with the plan.” She spoke with such eagerness, such appeal of loneliness that he knew it would break her heart ever to go at all. So there on the hilltop they plafned and agreed on the change from cattle to sheep: .. Lambert rode to his’ rendezvous with Grace Kerr on the appointed day believing: that she would keep it, although her promise had been incon- clusive. She was not in sight when he reached their meeting place. He ‘went on, over the hill from which she used to spy on his passing, into the valley where he had interfered be- 'tween the two girls on the day that he found Grace hidden away in this unexpected place. There he met her coming dewn the farther slope. “I'd have gone to the end of the 'world to find you, Grace,” he said, his voice shaking as if he had a chill, his hands cold, his face hot, a tingling in his body, ® sound in his ears like bells. “I want to tell you how— e | (Continued in tomorrow's He{ald‘) l' that were just learning. All the boys thought it when a wagon clattered bridge, which crossed right above the dam. Then' they ducked into the water with only their heads out, and shouted more or less politely at who- ever was passing. At such tindes Spot barked, because that seemed to him the gentlemanly thing to do. But he never could see any sense in jumping into the water great fun over the HARTFORD —TODAY—CONTINUOUS— STEP LIVELY A Dance Cycle With MILDRED ROGERS Bryant & Stewart; ‘Rogers, Mid- diewon & Rock; Marie Jasper; Herbert & Dare. ROBERT WARWICK in “YHE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE” With Wanda Hawley, Kathl Williams, Irving Cummings, Th dorc Kosloff. b Are transparent. 7 /' Eight pounds tinytomatoes, ired or yellow; 3 pousS brown sugar. SuBar over each layf. if he happened to be it on the bank * when a wagon came ang. The boys threw siks about the pond for Spot to fetchack to them. They raced with hit They upset him when he was ening himself onthe big rock near thdam and they [laughed to see the #ash he made when he struck the wer. No matter what thics the boys played on him Spotiever lost his temper. He took arything good naturedly. And one &, when John- nie Green znd his frids were swim- ming in the mill ponhe even tosk a bundle of clothes Sn: beneath 3 big hickory on the b&k. Yes! Spot caught up somebody’glothes in his mouth and started alig the road with them. He was surprised totear a terrible outcry from the water . (Copyright 1921 bythe Metro- politan Newspape Service.) - G BY SISTE MARY A delicious sweet n be made of ripe tomatoes. When fit is hard to find - and expensive tomats may be used as a ‘“‘butter.” The lle yellow variety is perhaps more delite and makes a » | more attractive masalade than red tomatoes, but if the dlow ones are ngt available try the rec The first recipe is better made with @ than yellow. Red Toma Butter One-half bushel tnatoes, 6 pounds sour apples, 6 pounc¢sugar, 4 lemons, 1 teaspoon ginger. Wash tomatoes anpour over scald- » ing water. and quarter apples. ut apples and to- matoes in preservinjkettle and cook for one and one-half jurs. Add sugar, ginger and lemans culn thin slices and cook until the consiéncy of marma- lade. Pour into sterfed pint jars and seal while hot H Yellow TomatdPreserves. One peck small pllow tomatoes, granulated sugar, -1 hoz. Scald tomatoes. anglp off' skins. Weigh. Use as manfjpounds of sugar as there are poun fruit. Use 1 lemon to every 2 pouls of fruit er the lemon may be omitd. Add half as much water as theref sugar and boil for three minutes. 3d tomatoes ang emons, the Jemons puld be Yery thin, and cook itil the tomatoes Pa into sterilized int jars and seal wi¢ boiling hot. Mock Bs- either Scald tomatoes an slip off skins. Pick with a needle towevent bursting. !Put layer for layer gsugar and fruit in a crock and let and over night. = Drain off the juice ai boil to a thick Siyrup. til transparent Skim out on plattersand dry in the SUn, adding sirup as st as it dries in. Add the tomaes and cook un- but serfectly whole. PZck in layers, sprkling powdered Large coffee cans lined with waxe paper are ideal for backing. Thése geetmeats will be Slip offkins. Pare, core ¥\ sliced ™ foung quite as good aseal figs in many ¥ pudd'ngs. (CoPyright 1921 by Pwspaper Enter- orlik’s T ORIGIN L Uted Mik =