New Britain Herald Newspaper, January 17, 1927, Page 4

Adele Garrigson’s New Phase of Revelation % 2’ Tdlliaa Highly Excited Aftera Night's Vigil T do not know any woman whose 5 ution is 8o resilient as Lillian's en she appeared at breakfast the ‘Jext morning after our visit to the dnight club, where we were disap- | pointed at the non-appearance of the | asked dancer, no one could have “discovered the slightest tract of fa- tigue about her. awake for hours following our re- turn at midnight, going over some problem In which I suspected Mary Harrison was a prominent factor. Her first question was for Mar: but, of course, that was a most matural one, in view of the young girl's swoon the night before, “She is feoling much better,” 1| Rnswered, for I had made an early | Jtrip to Mary's room. “She has a cold &nd I am going to keep her in bed Roday, or at ledst this forenoon. And | A shall telephone to Mr. Veritzen for | ipermission to cancel her recitations | today. She really is in no condition | | to work.” | Mary Is Docile | “What did she say when you told | her you were going to keep her in | Ded?” Lilllan asked, and I surpress- | ed with difficulty a look of surprise, for it is unlike her to ask questions | ncerning other people’s moods. “She was surprisingly docile,” I Feturned, “and said that she was wery glad of the chance to stay in d and rest.” Lilllan nodded, and there was no Further mention of Mary during the | rest of the meal. When it was fin- ished and Dicky had gone to his |y office, she drew me into my bed- | room. “May I come back here tonight | { Whitefoot the Woodmouse Has a Shock By Thornton W. Burgess Pity one whose constant fear Iy that an enemy is near, —Whitefoot the Woodmouse That is Whitefoot's state of mind nearly all the time. I know of B0 one more timid than this pretty little member of the Mouse family. | And it is with reason that Whitefoot | i3 constantly afraid. You,see, there | 1s no one being looked for by more hungry neighbors than is Whitefoot the Woodmouse. All the members of the Hawk family, all the mem- Lers of the Owl family, Reddy and Mirs. Fox, Old Man Coyote, Yowler | the Bobeat, Shadow the Weasel, | Billy Mink, even great big Duster Bear—all have an eye out for| Whitefoot the Woodmouse. So by | day or night he is constantly ex- pecting an unpleasant surprise, Whitefoot had thus far spent a very comfortable winter. None of his encmies had discovered where he | was living, He had had several nar- Tow escapes whén he was out hunt- Ing for food, but each time when ' had reached home he had felt quite safe, for he was sure that no one had yet found out where that home was. Now it is a bad thing to feel too | safe. People who feel very are prone to be careloss. At loast | they become thoughtless. They fake | too much for granted. It got to be this way with Whitefoot. When he | #campered home it didn't occur to | him that there could be any danger | in that home. No, sir, it didn't. He ¥ould simply make sure that no one was watching him and then he | would scamper straight into his home without even looking to see | it there might be an unexpected danger there. Now Whitefoot's home at this time was in an old stump. The bark had partly peeled off. There were some big loose picces clinging to the stump. One of these loose pieces dovered the entrance to a hole, and n that hole was Whitefoot's home. Because of that big picce of loo Women Lose fess time, keep charm under trying hygienic conditions. New way provides true security—discards like tissue LD-TIME sani Now the insccurity of the *“sanitary pad” has been ended. You wear sheerest gowns, any and all social or bus actments in peace of mir time, any day. meet ness ex- This new way is called “KOTF . five times as absorbent as the ordmary cotton pad! v Discards as easily as tissue. No laundry. No embarrassment. You ask for it without hesitancy simply by saying “KOTEX" at any | drug or department store. Proves old ways an unnccessary risk. Be sure to get the genuine, Only Kotex itself is “like” Kotex. KOTEX No laundry—discard like Yet she had been | | asteep, | behind that niece of barl | Meado | run about on the snow. | snow {a very plea | as he skipped | hungry feathered or s of a Wife—— and sleep here?” she asked. “Do you need to ask? tered reproachfully. “No, I don't,” she flashed back, “but I'm always ‘a perfect lady, drunk or sober'—you know that, g0 1 like to go through the motions. Seriously, though, old dear, 1 may be late, and I do hate to disturb you.” I coun- Lillian Returns | “That will be casy,” I returned. | “I'll give you a latch-key. I have | an extra one. But you don’t need to worry about disturbing me. I| shall be working late tonight to make up for last evening's revelry. But the latch-key will be convenient, for Mrs. Peters is often conveniently deaf after 10 o'clock.” “I don’t blame her,” Lillian com. | mented, and a few minutes later took her departure, while T, after another visit to Mary, satisfying my- self that all she needed was rest, | settled myself to my work. The day passed uneventfully. I permitted Mary to get up in the afternoon, and she curled up on the | living-room couch and read while T worked, and later had her dinner ith us. At her bedtime, I tucked | her up, and later peeped into her | room to assure myself that she was with her light out. Then I went back to my work and became | so absorbed in it that T forgot all about Lillian's promised return until she hurried into the living room a | few minutes after midnight, with the breathless demand: ias anyone telephoned me here, Newspaper Inc. Copyright, 19! Feature Service, You sce, he knew what that black | spot was. It was the tip of a tail bark, no one have suspect there. Whitefoot used to ahout to be sure no one then slip under the plece and enter the hole, a fine warm bed, a bed as one could ask for. ever he went out he alway look aw of ba Inside he had as comfortable When- | paused nd very carefully peeped out to sce that the | way was clear. That was the time | he feared the presence of an enemy. | He never failed to watcl But on coming home it was differ- ent. Then he merely watched out behind him, and once sure that he was not being followed he would | dart inside without the least fear. Now, as you know, all the Green | the Green Forest, the Old Orchard and the Old Pasture were white with snow. There was snow everywhere. Whitefoot doesn’t mind | the snow. Truth to tell, he likes to | But the | the danger for | for it makes it casier for | to sce him. Neverthe- less, he likes the snow. There had | been several storms and the old | stump in which his home was was | haif buried in snow. Also, it was | white nearly all over, for the mow] to the sides, and, of | had piled up on top. It hd')plnm] one moonlight night that Whitefoot returned home a lit- tle earlier than usual. He had had t evening without a single scare, and for Whitefoot to 2o through a whole evening without a scare is something unusual. So, along on the snow to- tump, he was feeling very well satisfied with the world. He had almost forgotten that there was such a thing as an enemy, a furred hunter, would like to gobble him up. t about to jump de of the old stump and to the ance to his as he looked up he some- right re Jie was in habit of slipping in behina the k in front of his door. It was| rdly more than a haps wouldn't all increases Whitefoot, his enemi. ward the big on | am- home, the and for a mo- him that his | stopped ‘beating.. Of s the feel- He couldn’t | he couldn’t neing one hocks of his whole life, knew what that black 15 the tip of a tall, by T. W. Burgess) hort The Clim next Pl ’S f«ec%ughs And lflzmmlly, use PISO’S Throat and Chest Salve. 35¢ | dicate | charlotte, | tatoes in pars! | rols, him, | W | lemon juice, | teaspoon | gelatine mixture BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Editor Jownal of the American Medical Association and of Hygeis, the Health Magazine Under present conditions the one real hope in cancer is early diagno- sis and eariy operation. Statistical evidence accumulated under the auspices of the Medlcal Research Council of Gteat Britain proves the truth of this warning. One group of investigators, study- ing the lives of women with cancer, found that a woman with cancer | of the breast who is not treated at all, can expect to live 17.2 per cent of the normal duration of her life. A woman operated on under or- dinary conditions, may expect to live 30.4 per cent of her normal duration, whereas one operated on under the most favorable condi- tions may expect to live 68.5 per cent of the normal duration. Results of Surgery In a study of women operated on for cancer of the breast in the medical institutions of Leeds, it was found that of those operated on while the growth was still confined to the breast, 80.1 per cent were alive ars after the operation; of those opcrated on after the glands under the arm had become involved, 91.3 per cent were dea¥l within 10 years after operation. Of the advanced cases, 94.4 per cent were dead within 10 years after operation. These figures in- the extreme importance of undertaking a satisfactory opera- tlon while the growth is still con- fined to the breast. Saving Years of Life woman in England, years ot age, may normally expect to live 18.87 years longer. It that 5000 cases of car breast develop among women England and Wales each year. If A | all of these were operated on under the most favorable conditions, more than 80,000 years of life would be | gained for the entire group. The expectancy of life of wo- men whose cancer is not treated is only 3.25 years, whereas the one operated on under the tions has an expectancy of 12,93 Dr. Halsted of Johns Hopkins university found that 75 per cent of the women he operated on for this condition were alive three years after the operation. Menas for the Family (By Sister Mary) Breakfast—Canned cherries, cer- eal, thin cream, creamed finnan had- die, crisp rye toast, milk, coffee. Luncheon—Nut loaf with celery sauce, lettuce sandwiches, pineapple milk, tea. Dinner--Boiled mutton, boiled po- ley butter, creamed turnips, French endive with French dressing, ginger pudding, graham milk, coffce. Keep in mind that “made" dishes are not as easily digested as plain, straightforward viands. However, | these dishes involving mistures are ! often justifiable since they add varie- | ty to the menu and are a means to- The nutloaf sug- gested in the luncheon menu is one of these concoctions. If small chil- vard economy. ! dren must be provided for, a poach- ed cgg might be served on toast with some of the celery sauce. Pineapple Charlotte One tablespoon granulated gela- tine, 4 tablespoons cold water, 1-2 | cup bolling water, 2-3 cup sugar, 1 ted pineapple, 1 tablespoon 1 cup whipping cream, 2 tablespoons powdered sugar, 1-4 vanilla, few grains salt, stale sponge cake or lady fingers. Soften gelatine in cold water for ten minutes. stir over hot water until dissolved. Bring pincapple and sugar to the boiling point. Remove from fire, add lemon juice and dissolved gelatine. Let stand until cool and beginning {to “set.” Whip cream un! in vanilla, sugar and salt. Fold into and turn into a mold lined with thin slices of stale sponge cake or split lady fingers. cup g: (Copyright, 1927, NEA Service, Inc.) To Gm'e a nal old and Grip Tal b’"L Proven Safe for morz than a Quarter of a Century as an _effective yemedy for COLDS, GRIiP, INFLU- ENZA and as a Preventive, Price 30c. The box bears this signature G Jobpore | e Foee 1669 — | s estimated | p best condi- | Add boiling water and | firm. Stir | WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE To the home of Prof and Mollie Elwell in Camdenville, Ind., one night in October, 1898, is brought a woman who had fainted on a train, That night twin girls are born to her and she dies without revealing her name. The story then moves forward 18 years. The twins have been adopt- ed and named Margaret and Eliza- beth. They are called Rusty and Betty. Jim Elwell, the son, enlists in the World War. He then discovers that one of the twins loves him. He is shell-shocked at Sedan and reported dead. Much later he is \dentified in a New York hospital where his parents find him with his speech and memory gone, He is like a living dead man. The day before his parents are to take him home, Jim wanders away from his nurse, Nellie Dow- ning. Late that night he is found in Sellevue hospital with his skull fractured, expected to die. The twins are in Indfanapolis at the home of their uncle, John Clayton, the mystery of their identi- |ty having been cleared while Jim | was away. Some time later Mollie writes to them that Jim will live {but his memory is forever gone. Sho tells them she is bringing him home. The night before Jim leave: lic Downing calls up Jack Ne i newspaperman, to tell him she has ory” for him. NOW BEGIN THE STORY CHAPTER XLIIT “Eh?” sald Jack Nevin. | With pictures and everything? You { talk like newspaperman—or a agent—I don’t know which.” I haven't forgotten,” she told “the crushed look in your eyes | the night I asked you not to print the story about Jim Elwell and his | ccident.” Well,” he autiful story. It had everything. | Tell me—what's the story you've | got up your sleeve now?” | “I'm not telling: T sald tomorrow night.” Suppos: hold of it? No danger of that, she assured | 1 him | “Space,” he urged, “is pretty good \ tonight. Tomorrow we may bn‘ tighter than the devil and not be | able to give it a play.” | 'No,” Jack—not until tomorrow | night. Jim Elwell goes home tomor- | row. “Oh, 1 see"—his voice had fallen | a trifle—"as soon as they're out of town sou'll be free to let me spring | it. Ts that it?"” T'm saying nothing more except | that it is a better story than it| jever was.” “Well, T'11 word for it.” That, she told him, was one of the things she liked about him—h willingness to trust her judgment. .. | | 'The next evening Jim Elwell and his parents and Mike Hennegan caught the train for home. Nellie | | Downing was at the station to say i goodby and Mollle cried as she kiss- | ed the little nurse and wished her well, “You've heen g0 wonderful. You've been positively noble. I can never thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchicf. Nellie's eyes, tog, were wet. “But | I was so glad to do it. You| mustn’t thank anyone for perform- | ing a task that had so much pleasure in it.” She stuck out her hand to Prof. | “Goodby, Prot.” He took the hand { her, “Goodby. We'll see you again | some time, I hope.” When she took leave of Jim, Nel- lie Downing kissed him too. And | Mollie Elwell, instead of fecling ap- | prehensive, smiled happily. ’lhrxe‘ was no reason for being worried | Nellie Downing had talked to “A story admitted, “it was a | some other paper gets | certainly take your | now. | her. The little nurse did not forget Mike Henncgan_either. That worthy | had not dared to g6 beyond a mili- tary salute. “Goodby, Captain,” he said, his grin once more threatening to dis- place his ears. “Come here, Mike,” she ordered. “Right.” He stepped to her, clicked his heels and waited. She rewarded him with a kiss. “That's for being so good to me and to Jim Elwell. Now, please stop laying craps and behave yourself.” “Correct, Captain.” Meghanically he rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “Are you rubbing my Mike?” “Huh? No ma'am.” She laughed. “All right. everybody. I'll see you i ville some day—real soon.’ The Elwells moved through the gateway. Presently they were on the train and the landscape began to slip past the train windows. They were going home. kiss off, Goodby, Camden- | « o . 014 Martha Dalton was exceeding- 1y proud of her young charges on that morning when they took the | train from Indianapolis to Camden- She had taken the precaution to | write to one of her dearest friends a week or 80 before, telling her of ton's generosity. This was to forestall any worry that might have been entertained about her failure to return to Camden- ville weeks sooner. She was independent now, Martha wrote, and would not have to work | any more—ijust look after the girls and see that they kept out of mis- chief. She had also cautioned her friend | rot to mention all this to a soul in | the little town, By this means she | knew that everyonme in Camdenville would be acquainted immeditely with the news that Martha Dalton's working days were over. “Pretty soft,” remarked the post- master to Ben Carter, proprietor of the Palace Hotel—American Plan— | “they tell me she has her breakfast brought to her in bed. Imagine & ing able to look your job in the e and telling it to go to hell! Well, that was how it was, rejoined sadly. “Some folks have all the luck while other don’t have| none a ‘tall. Me, now, I been got- | i tin' stung all my life tryin’ to do J | Secms | said, then kissed | " { home. | pected arrival that evening. Betty looked at her, swift fear i n her cyes. “Im o afraid, dear.” { good turns for other people. Many" the man I've trusted for the pricc ot a room-—an’ never got a dime. Not a damn one of those people was a milllonaire in disguise. They wa all dead hoats. “Sce what doin’ good to others has got me. An’ goes an’ tumbles into a bed of clo er just because she done her duty | one night.” “'Course,” the postmaster said, “I ain't begrudgin' her a nickel.” “Me neither. Martha deserves all | the good Iuck fhat comes her way. T'm just complainin’ a little that I | never get any of it myselr.” “1 derstand,” said the post- master, “that the reason Jim Fiwell and Mollie and Prof didn't come back that night they was expected was because Jim had an accident. | he was knocked down by a truck up there in New York, He liked to died.” | “Is that so? Did he pull through all right?” | “'Cordin’ to what Sarah Jones Martha Dalton told her in her Jetter, the hoy's better. They cidn't | ve at first. Has his skull fractured.” “Too bad about Jim,” remarked Ben Carter. “Imagine goln’ through life not bein’ able to talk or remem- ber anything. They're comin’ back soon, ain't they?” “Yep.” | ‘Suppose they’s any way of Jim | r gettin’ cured 2" Don't know. Prof don't feel | much cncouraged, they tell me.” “It's a damn shame. You and me | nave a lot to do, kickin' ahout our | luck. Took at poor Jim Elwell, as nice a boy as I ever came across fn | forty-five years—an' look at Mollie an’ Prof.” u , they agreed, have to turn out a when Jim came Make them know we're glad to see them back again. Let 'em know we'll be glad to do anything for Jim that we can.” Camdenville must be informed, they id, as soon as they heard of Jim's arrival. They were sitting in the sun on the station platform when the | Indianapolis train rolled in and Martha Dalton and the two girls‘ alighted. | “Hello, Martha,” they greeted. “Hello, gals,” added the hotel 'pro-‘ prietor. “Back to stay a while i They were, Martha admitted. She | vas reticent concerning Jim's ex- | | She and the girls, after exchang- ing & few more remarks with the | postmaster and proprietor of the Palace Hotel, made their way to the Blwell house and prepared a late luncheon for themselves. | “Wouldn't it be awful,” erupted | Rusty, all excitement, as the trio seated themselves at the table, “if | something happened 2" “Something better not happen,” remarked Betty darkly. “And there | Dbetter not be anybody hinting that | anything might happen, cither. T've | known people being murdered in | cold blood and their bodies thrown in the river for less than that. Something”happened last time, but it better not happen again.” Sho turned a threatening eye on | Nurse Dalton, who hadn't said a word, and seemed to be daring her to say something in her defense. “Well, well,” soothed the lady who had learned how to tell work where to go without the flicker of an eye- lash, “we'll try and not let anything happen this time.” Rusty laid a caressing hand over that of the old nurse. “You sald It, Dalty, dear,” she told her, “but you know it some- times scems to me that anything, ' almost, can happen since I found out that my darling old nursie has learned to swear.” | “Rusty Elwell — or Marvin, I| mean!” ulated Martha Dalton, | quite shocked, “you must be care- | ful. There's a lot of folks in this | town who might not understand that little joke.” cle John told me, | “He said you wore now in a posi- | tion t » tell—" hat will be enough now."” Baity left the room to unpack the | harp the baggage man was bringing . After installing it in the sitting e nged at it experiment- i to hum dreamily. he whispered, “oh how \ will remember when he hears it!” here Martha Dalton | * For flavor Fey GULDENS | %Must&rd fl‘ 3 chmg skin Relieved within an hour One who has used Resinol Ointment writes—‘Resinol i 80 soothing it stopped my itching at once and I got the first night's sleep weeks. Now my skin 1s well has done for one, it can do for otluen. \\hv don’t you try this comforting, caling _ointmy ent and save youvsrf hours of torture? Resinol soothes as it heals. Free Let us send you a free sample, each of Resinol Ointment and Resinol Soap, Write Dept. 68, Resino}, Baltimore, Md, Don’t treat it lightly. Disease germs always find a fine breeding place in the raw, sensitive membranes— they multiply rapidly, infect the throat tissues, and unless checked, may cause a dan- gerous inflammation. Act at once, at the firs cough, and take PERTUSS fore it is too late. Pre: this in- flnmmalimfiomspra dingintothe “Danger Zone” and developing into Bronchitis—Pneumania—or worse complications. PERTUSSIN brings healing comfort and helps to free you of sticky, germ-laden mucus huclcgs the air passages. For safety’s sake, fi“ a bottle today. If your cough a3 alrcady settled in ll\c “‘danger zone”, you should see your Doctor. Note—PERTUSSIN is a simple herbal remedy free from dope, and has been prescribed by physicians for 20 years. Rusty stood beside her. She had left Martha Dalton at the table in the dining room. “You must be careful, dear,” she said, “Just a few hours more now. We mustn't cry, you know.” Betty looked up at her, swift fear in her eyes. “I'm afrald dear.”. (To Be Continued) ‘What will hsppea when Jim gets home? Will Botty’s harp restorc his memory? y LARGEST MUSKRAT FARM Quesnel, B. C. (United Press).— | § Fencing of 7.000 acres of swamp land at Swan Lake, 49 miles north- west of heve, into the largest mus! rat farm in the world has been com- pleted, according to J. E. McFarland, representative of a fur company in ! Vancouver. Output from the musk- rat ranch will eventually total 50,000 pelts, it is estimated. The farm con- sist of low-lying meadows and streams already heavily populated with muskrat and beaver. Weekly dishursements to nelghboring trap- pers for restocking amount to $1,000, NORMAL AND HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS Reduced rates in BALLROOM DANCING Steinhaus Dancing Aca 308 Maln St. Phone 3910-J or 3013- 108 m—10 p. m in tabes. Thiriy-fivagearsdoing good. FREE — 0. fr5atment ¢ for yoars mow. EONDON, M'I'N‘JEAI’OUI. MINN, ‘.SO For best results use SOCONY KEROSENE STANDARD OIL CO. OF NEW YORK Write for booklet « + « 26 Broadway lllL Completely Deodorized ROM the extractor, the cleaned garments go to the tumbler, which deodorizes, and at the same time removes any lint from the garments. A thorough job in the tumbler is one of the reasons why a gar- ment cleaned here never has the faintest smell of cleaning fluid. Be Sure that the milk you are now getting is the best you can get—for milk is 8o important that none but the very best is good enough. Ask any authority in town what he thinks of our milk. J.E.SEIBERT & SON M J. KENNEY & CO 563 Main St. (Opp. St. Mary’s Church) Telephone 314 and 86 Connecticut’s Most Complete Religious Store Medals, Pictures, Statues, Beads, Crucifixes, Little Flower Novelfjes Statues delivered to any part of the city. FUNERAL PARLOR Tel. 314 Night Service 36