New Britain Herald Newspaper, June 9, 1927, Page 12

Love’s Embers Adele Garrison’s Absorbing Sequel to “Revelations of a Wife” Beginning a New Serial———————/ -Madge Batfled by the ‘Wha Shadows Her to the City. I whirled and faced the red- bearded man as if astounded that he should address me. But 1 was not nearly as surprised as I pretended to be. Some way 1 had had a feeling when I saw him board the coach next to the Pullman that I had not seen the last of him. “What did you say?" I sharply. He ducked his head, spread hands and grinned. The off his red beard was quite a “Plees, my TInglish not goot,” he d. t, plees, 1 say slo tease, esa train go back:" aring is one 2" 1 train on which the city. He lau me to be nervous, but I was sure that for some unknown reason his Cyes were upon me every second of our advance toward the gates sep- arating the train platforms from the open waiting room of the Long Is- lina road “To the parcel check room,” 1 directed the station porter, and gave sigh of relief when, as we I heard a loud the asked him ' and, turning, saw ed man waving on one as [ went for 1 his with or had Mr. vith it, my brain was 1 the rather ridiculous presente wind by 1-bearded man Why on carth shouid person wish to travel a hundrea miles from the cast end of the island t. the city, as he had done, with the intention of sitting on a bench in the station for half an hour, and then returning to the place from which he had started out? Why, also, had be been waiting r place in the road 10 T had found him as driving to the station? questions were so bewilder- 1 clamored so loudly for solu- tion that with a look at my wrist- watch 1 dismissed the station porter when I had checked my bag, and in- stead of sending him for a taxi, as I had intended. sank down in one of the seats near the checking booth to ponder a bit over the perplexing conduct of the red-bearded man. 1 took up the second question firsf as more mearly concerning myself. His waiting at that particular place in the road argued that he must have known of journey in the morning. That meant that Dicky must have told him not only of my journey to town, bhut of the place where he could meet us. s office e entered just had o my ied and nodded his un- d vigorously. n! dot vun.” clf a little grimly that L every known for- eign accent in his attempt 1o appear | an ignorant alien, and 1 had a sud den to snatch at his red beard and hair, which I belicved were faise, and sce what secret of | physiognomy they concealed. But I knew that even if some n had demanded the action I would have found it impossible to touch the unkempt individual who was looking at me with much the ex- pectant expression of a friendly stray dog who would like food. T turnd to the station porter who had halted when I did. “Can you tell him 1 asked The man’s answer was pron “It goes right out from herc in half an hour,” he said. “The pas- sengers will begin to get down here pretty quick now. Thers's no traffic | 1o speak of on this train coming in carly Sunday morning, but it's al- ways heavy golng out toward the east end of the island.” T turned back to the red-bearded mon, “This train goes back in half an hour,” I said. | “Oh, tanks! tanks! he said and ' any sane Copyright, 1827 Newspaper Feature Service, Tnc. Terror in the Green Forest By Thornton W. Burgess Of all the creatures far and near ‘Tis man who most inspires fear. —Old Mother Nature. Once in a while a hunter with a | terrible gun had visited the Green Forest, but it was only once in a| while. You see, Farmer Brown al-| lowed no hunting there, and when | & hunter did get in there he did it | without the knowledge of Farmer Brown or Farmer Brown's Boy. So perhaps you can guess at how the little people and the big people of the Green Forest felt when it was filled with men carrying clubs and | terrible guns. There were a lot of them now and such a racket as they made as they tramped through the Green Forest shouting and beating the brush and trees with their “clubs. It seemed as if they were trying 'to make all the noise they could, as indeed they were, | When Blacky the Crow first heard them he hurried to see what all the row was about. But he didn't remain. Goodness, no! Even Blacky was frightened. There were too many terrible guns for Blacky to ! teel safe. | Chatterer the Red Squirrel hid in a hollow tree. Happy Jack the Gray Squirrel and his cousin, Rusty the 'ployed with good Fox Squirrel, deserted the Green |monkeys, reptiles and other zoo ani- Forest and raced straight up to |mals in good health. Farmer Brown's house. Whitefoot the Wood Mouse crept into one of TREE-TOP STORIES his little underground homes and shivered and shook and shook and shivered. Lightfoot the Deer and v Y IN THE NIGHT RUSTLE Mrs. Lightfoot bounded away to- ward the Great Mountain and there . bump! Bennie heard an apple fall out of the tree one night. ‘was terror in their great soft eyes. They did not go together, for Mrs Lightfoot had twins, beautiful lit- “The Wind must be playing & game of ball,” he said. “There's another .. .. and another!" tle gpotted twins, to watch over and to lead as fast as she could. Yowler the Bobcat was aroused Each apple spatted the leaves asit fell. Then it bounced once or twice when it hit the ground. Sl >~ /! ¢ § Moy B Chatterer the Red Squirrel hid in a hollow tree stood. The makers of the footprints, | which had so puzzled the people of the Green Forest and Old Man Coy- ote, guessed what all that noise ment. Y r, they did so. They guessed that all those hunters were after them and they guessed just right. Have you guessed who made I the footprints? (Copyright, 1927, The next stor the Strang: by T.W. Burgess) Ultra-violet rays now are em- rustle from his hiding place and made straight for some ledges he knew of, thers to creep into a deeply hidden cave. Buster Bear, with many a snarl and rumble and grum- ble of his deep voice, alxo headed for the Great Mountain, and he traveled fast, did Buster | The astonishing thing to Sammy Jay and all the others, who stopped long enough to look, was that Farm- er Brown's Boy and Farmer Br were among these hunters, Samr and the other little people couldn't | nunderstand this at all. It wasn't like Farmer Brown's Boy, or Farmer Brown eitlier. Furthermore, Farmer Brown's Boy was carrying a gun. “I wouldn’t have believed it if T/ hadn’t seen It with my own ey Bald Mrs. Grouse afterws sir, T wouldn’t have helis T hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. ' But he had a terrible gun and good- ness knows 1 ought to know one when T see it Now all these hunters were strung out in a long line ax they tramped through the green Forest and there wasn't a chance for anybody to slip | between them without being seen. | Deeper and deeper they went into the Green Forest. Paddy the Beaver | heard them coming and he and Mrs. | Paddy retired fnside their house and were very, very thankful that it was entirely surrounded by water. Tt all these men paid no attention to Paddy nor to his dam. He was dreadfully afraid they might tear his dam down, but they did nothing of the kind. They kept on right past | *he pond and after a while they dis- appeared deeper in the Green For- est toward the ledges, and no one underatood at all what it meant Perhaps T am mistaken in saying | that. There was one who understood l Now In fact, there were two who under- ples down for me to pick up in the morning. “I'll_call it the ‘Applesause Game' because Mommy will sure- Iy make some applesauce tomor- row. Yum! Yum!” A SUMMER AT SEA (@ YaiVioNY Block Isl Fvorite Hotel ot hing, Fi THE ADRIAN Open. Ocean View management Address G, C. BALL ESTATE. | 0, Tenni | Foreigner | dropped behind us. It was absurd of | and, Rhode Island WHAT HAS HAPPENED: | Both Anne Tracy and Mr. Jones, who fs the Tracy’s milkman, object to the engagement of Phillip Wynne Tracy 1V and Natlee Jones. Phillip’s mothcr pians to give a party, hoping to interest her son in some other girl. She tells him about her friend, Lyra Hilliard, who is My Sors Suwee RLUSITATED AND COPYRIGHTED BY JOUNSON FEATURES INC. | She found Phillip walting for her just the other | which burned dimly at each side of | the gateway. | Although the street was daserted | | for blocks either way, neither Phil- | !lip nor Lyra said a word, and Phil- | lip shifted gears very carefully un- 'til the car was purring away on coming to spend a few weeks with | L er and unconsciously arouses his |interest in the woman. Without his mother's knowledge Phil plans to bring Natlee to the party through his friend, Rodney Maxwell Meantime Phillip meets Mrs. Hil- liard at the train and takes her to luncheon. Shortly he finds he has fallen in love at first sight and hopes Natlee will decide not to come to the party. | After their first kiss, Phillip only lives when he s near Lyra Hilllard and they make arrangentents to go | riding together that night after the party, to which Natlee surprises everyone by coming. | Natlee overhears Phillip making love to Mrs, Hilliard and breaks her cngagement. She refuses to be even friends and tells Rodney Maxwell all ‘about it. Rodney tells Natlee that | he loves her and will smash Phil's face. Natlee begs him to forgive Phil, however, and asks him to re- main his friend. Here the story further unfolds— | CHAPTER XVIII | The Midnight Ride | With gay good nights and many graceful thanks to Mrs. Tracy for the good time she had given them, | all of Phillp's friends left the Bilt- more a little after 12. | Mrs. Hilliard, at her request, rode | with his mother. Phillip started off alone in his roadster. e arrived | first at the house and hurried into | the garage and stood walting at the | door while Bernice Cameron and Bill Husted were transferred from | his mother's car to Bill's and rode | off after renewed assurances of their gratitude to Mrs. Tracy for her splendid time. | “I hope, Lyra, that you are not as tired as T am,” saild Anne, “T was so sleepy that last halt-hour that 1 felt sure my eyelids were go- {ing to close in spite of all T could | do. There Is nothing quite so stupid |as a dancing party to a woman who does not dance. I think you have | been very clever to keep up with all | the new steps.” | “Why don't you learn them. | Anne? T remember, when you were | tirst married, 'you were quite the best dancer in our crowd.” “I am too old to learn new follles, | Lyra. T haven't danced since Phillip | was born. for then I laid aside all | thought of myself and began & live {only for him | *I think, my dear Anne, you were | very foolish,” remarked her friend | carnestly. “You are still a young | woman, young enough to have shaking her head, Mrs. | Tracy opened the door of her hed- {room and from within closed it. Quickly Lyra sped to her own room, opening and zhutting her door with a bang as she stayed on the | outside of it. For quite a while she stood there, litening and waiting. and then tell- ing herself that the thick carpets in | the hall would make no sound, she walked lightly to the stairway and | dzscended to the floor below. ammy Jay Sees | results to keep , my darling, T can never be rateful enough to you for this.” It is madness for both of us, but vou, Wynne, are not so much to { blame as I—1 know better-—I cannot | lie to myself about it—I know bet- | ter” - | “And you came, my sweetheart-— | you came,” said Phil, exultantly. | ‘Now that I am here, what have you got to tell me, Wynne?" | “Only that T love you even while {1 know that love ltke ours can only |come to unhappiness, for it must end in nothing.” | “But you will forget me when 1 am gone, Wynne.” “Please don't say that, Lyra— don’t hurt me by talking like that. You spoke of memories tonight—if | we must have only memories It | make the one of tonight a joyous one.” | “Dear Wynne. you cannot know | what the freshness and sincerity of your love means to me—" “Then thank God. Lyra, you are {sure of happy memories, but mine will always be mingled with pain | because T was born too late.” No, Wynne, when this incident of your life is over long enough to be- | | come a memory time will have | shown you that what you thought | was deathless was only a brief | dream from which you awoke to a more beautiful reality. That is the | | solace which is refused to those who | | are older to whom no longer dreams {come to lighten a reality that has | become cold and drear.” “Lyra—Lyra, why are you so sad | tonight ? We love each other and we |are together. See, the moon is mak- {ing the river path molten siiver and | the earth is covered with its white | ! mantle of snow as white and pure as our love—kiss me, Lyra.” The waning moon had sunk down I behind the hills when at last Phillip turned the car toward home. At Lyra's request he let her out of the car a block from the gate and waited until he saw her vanish in- side, Although he tried to slide into the | garage without much rncise, it seem- | ed that the brakes made an unnec- | essary screeching that might wake | the dead. Lyra had used his latchkey and |left the door ajar. | Just as he reached his mother's door he stumbled. “What is it? Who fs there?” {called his mother's sleepy voice. “It is T, Mother. I heard a win- dow rattling and I was afraid it | would wake you and went down irs to find and lock it.” | 1 right, Son—T hope vou put on your slippers—I wouldn't like you to catch cold.” | Shortly there was silence all over | the Tracy house, but to three of its occupants sleep would not come. Lyra Hilliard had become almost | | vanic stricken as*she heard Phil's | mother call to him. She wondered | ! what she would have done i it had | been she instead of Phil who had stumbled. H She was, too, finding love “just plain hell”—the hell of remorse and |would have him to | your grandfather went to Yale.” | chain. T am going to work, I want | | to earn my own living. T do not IDA_McGLONE GIBSON regret. She determined to go away side of the lights |in the morning. but all the, while | going to college and he told himself | she was making that resolution she knew she would not go—she knew | that in spite of any good resolution | she might make she would stay on | here with Mrs. Tracy until fate de- | cided the issue. i Mrs. Tracy, awakened from her | sleep by Phil, wondered if she had | done the right thing to invite all | those girls to the dinner dance. She acknowledged to herself th¥t if Phillip were to be tempted by any of them it could have been by no other than Natlee who was much{ the prettiest girl there, and she had | casily proved herself the cleverest. | Down deep In her heart she won- dered if she were jealous of Natlee Jones—if Phillip had shown any great interest in any other one of those young women would she have disliked her? She did not realize lite she had made the mistake of making one person the one thing ahout which her love revolved. Until | Phillip was born it was her husband | who in some way occupied her every | waking thought. After her baby came she had made him the center | that all her | of her existence. | What Lyra had sald to her that evening come back to her—had she | been foolish not to let love come | into her heart again? She was go- | ing to be very lonely when Phillip marricd and she was going to be | very miserable when she knew for | certain that he was loving somcone | clse more than her—it hardis seemed fair that after she had given up so much for him he should go to some young girl who had made no | sacrifices and who would never un- | ] | | derstand him. Phillip tossed about on his bed wondering how he could explain | matters to his mother. He must tell | her soon that he was not going to college, for he knew that if he went \ Lyra would be lost to him forever. Also he must make his mother real- ze that he would probably never marry. He hoped that the fact that he would not marry and that she herself would make her feel less unhappy when | she found he was not going to col- lege. But how to account for his sudden | |change of mind? The whole thing was beyond him. | Never before had he wished so much for Natlee to confide in, and for the first time in his Iife she had | failed him, He wondered if every man came to know some time in his life that | he 'was just a piece of wood on a checker-board, moved here and there by fate in the shape of a woman, With this idea that has come. to many a man enmeshed in a position like this, his brain refused to work —his eyes closed. His mother called him early the | next merning She sent Nonnie to him to tell him that she wanted him in her room as soon as he was dressed. ; 3 “Now for it he said to himself as he knocked at the door and braced hi f against the jam while he waited for his mother to say “Come in.” “Phillip, I did not think that you would put me in such a position as you did last night,” was the way she | greeted him. *“I am ver) the time I made Natlee think that | you had invited her it seemed a very i | clever thing to do. “This morning I know it was all | a mistake, for T have chhnged my mind about Natlee Jones. I do not intend to marry her nor anyone else.” His moPer's face lighted in sur- prise. So far so good! He hurried on “I am not going to college, either.’ “But Phillip — your father and “Well, here’s where I break the | want to be dependent upon you any | longer.” “You're not dependent upon me, | Phillip. You know very well there s no need of your working until after your college days. “Mother, can’t you let me choose something in my own life? You| wanted to pick out the girl T should marry—you objected to the girl T/ wanted to marry—and now T don't believe you are any happier when 1 | tell you that I am not going to | marry anyone.” CHAPTER XIX Mother Against Sweetheart | She was, too, finding love “just plain hell"—the hell of remorse and regret, “When I tell you that T don't in- | Itend to go to college vou look so | thunder-struck and unhappy that 1| almost feel as though T comidn't please you, anyway. | “Mother, dear, will you believe | that I love you and am grateful to | you for all you have done for me? | But from now on I must be on my | {own. I am going down to father's | office this morning and tell those | in charge that I want a job. I be- | leve that T can sefl bonds as well | as any other young man of engaging | it's all there yet. Can't you under- | ingly |stand that I haven't hurt him at | form personality.” That w: the first time Phillip ¢ sorry, Mother, but at |n | never told him until the night before | yon | ashamed and his the door of his mother's room and went out and Anne Tracy dissolved in tearg. He congratulated himselt on the fact that he had carried it off with high hand. He had made Lyra own that she loved him. He had declared his independence to his mother. He had informed her that he was not | that he was never going to marry. Certainly that was pretty good fof | one twenty-four hours. Whistling, he went to the garage. | It/ was the first time that he had | whistled in many a long day, but | now he felt that all his problems ware solved. Anne Tracy told her friend, Lyra ? Hilliard, what had taken place, be- tween herself and Phillip, but she felt there was a lack of sympathy and real interest in the way Lyra recelved it. She offervd, however, as an ex- cuse that she had not slept at all | the night before and remarked that if her hostess did not mind she would keep to her room until ica | time. Thoroughly disappointed in her friend, as well in her son, Mrs, Tracy went upito Phillip’s room. | Some way she Yelt that there she | might get back the boy she seemed | to have lost that morning entirely. | In looking about she found his | wastepaper basket had not heen | emptigd. Tt was full of manuscripts of some kind. She péured out the seraps in a newspaper and as she | did so the word®. “To Lyra.” caught | her eye, Myatified. she picked up the sheet and found written on ft: | | TO LYRA | If T but catch your eye across the | crowd | A longing fills my aching soul To take and crush you as one would | ravish A beauty rose of all its satin-petaled fragrance. | 1 cannot feel—I cannot sce—T can- not think | But at your bidding. Ior you, my sweet, have made My senses king. Twice Anne Tracy read that at- | tempt at poatry, and tried to think | there was some other cxplanmian; of it than the one that was turnin | her mind to fire and her heart to | ice. After a little she stood up very | straight and walked to the door of Lyra Hilllard’s room. She found her | triend busy writing a letter. | “Are you penning an answer to | * she asked, laying the picce | of paper before her on the desk. | The woman turned pale but said nothing. Anne Tracy's eyes overflowed. “On, Tyra, Lyra, how could rou? if vou must have the love of a boy to feed your vanity. why did you | take the son of your hest friend, ! who has always stood by you, even | when your reputation was at stake? | “Why did you let me confide in | you my hopes and dreams about | Phil's future? Why did you almost | let me throw my son into your arms | as tyrants of old threw youths to the beasts in the arena?” ' At this the frozen woman, sitting | before the desk, turned about, her lips contorted in a smile half-deri- | sion and half-pity. | “Why, Lyra, when there were <o | many other boys in the world, have you laid the life of your friend’s| boy in ruin?” | “Don't dramatize yourself, Anne. | T have not hurt your boy. This bit | f paper which you have brought to | me should have told you that. Can| you not sce that I have made Wynne | hot only a man, but a poet?” “Do not congratulate yourself too soon, Lyra, on that bad poetry. My son did not write it, but where he | got ‘hold of it T do not know.” “If that is the case, why are you so sure Wynne did not write 1t?” Lyra was surprised into asking. i “Because they are the identica words that his father wrote t Eileen Lawler. the actress, and they were one of the documents in the case that named him corespondent in her husband's divorce petition.” Lyra Hilllard laughed rather hys- terically, Mrs. Tracy noticed, but she | laughed. “I did not know that Phillip knew anything about that side of his father,” Anne Tracy exclaimed. “I 1 | | | | you came, but he must have known all about it. He must have looked up the old newspaper accounts of nearly twenty years ago— A sudden thought came to her. “He cidn't do it until after he knew vou, for I do not think he would have copied that silly poem before came. He would have been indignant that his father had treated me 50 badl; “Don’t ool yourself any more, my dear Anne. Phillip Wynne Tracy IV has the heritage of his father's weakness as well as his father's strength. Wynne is a good boy and | he bids fair to be a splendid man, | and T have helped him on his way." “How dare you sit there and say that to me, Lyra Hilliard, after you have murdered all the goodness that 1 have always been so careful to keep in his =oul?” “It's all there, my dear Anne— | all? He thinks he is in love with | have forgotten me the day after he meets the reai girl and he will know that all the time when he thought he was in love with me he was only in love with Love—Love who came to him laughing for a little while and left with the same impulsive gesture. “Anne, don’t you understand that never again will he mistake love’for the loved one and I whom you now despise have made that {rue realiza- i tion possible to him.” “No, Lyra. T must confess that I do not understand any of your false reasoning. 1 only know that I have lost my friend and T am not sure that I have not lost my son. Why could you not have left me the | only thing remaining in my lonely life?” “You should not be lonely, Anne. | money — you are still | You have young and good looking. Surely you know that you have not reached the black velvet point-lace and diamond | stage yet. “Get out among people, Anne, 1 haven't taken Wynne away from you. But some day he will leave you. Why don't you try finding some oth- er interest to take his place?” “Are you advising me, Lyra, to take up some form of amusement? If you are, you may save your breath for something besides insults. | | I shall expect you to make some ex- I cuse so that you can get away from my house as soon as possible, you know.' “Oh, T'li go, Anne. T would rather have had Wynne's love for a little while than your friendship, which for many years has been growing| colder and cclder. You may be sure that Wynne will follow me, however, unless T make it perfectly clear to ! him that 1 have been playing with him—and I don’t want to lie to him. Anne, I love him, perhaps, better | than you do.” “How dare you say that, Lyra—to me, his mother?” “I think I dare say anything, Anne. T have lost a very fresh and Deautiful love. I have lost the last shred of my youth, and I suppose u think I have lost both character d reputation. Besides all ‘hese, your friendship is a little thing to iose.” To save what little dignity she had Anne Huntington Tracy left the room t should she do now? Lyra's last words made her understand it would have been much better if she had not opposed Phillip's proposed marriage with Natlee. Today she had learned that only by giving him could she keep him. Half-way to order her car, for she felt that she could not stay an- | in the house with her ‘he stopped short. War! America enters the war!” That was what the newsboys were calling. “America declares war on Ger- many! Extra! Extra! “America joins the allies! Here's ur paper! America prepares tion.” It had come at last everything else was forgotten, other minute false friend, “War! War! yo for mobliza — WAR — for she knew that her son, true to his | family and its traditions, would be | one of the first to go. And she would God, he was so very young and he might be killed. lost their sons—their only let him go—oh. | sclence to the American commu: - ity. Medical knowledge has - in- creased so tremendously (hat spec- ialization is required in many fields |since few men are capable of com- prehending or putting into appl catlon all the intricacles and r { ment. The past 25 years have seen discovered the causes of syphillis (sleeping sickness of the African type, whooping cough, infectious jaundice, scarlet fever and possibly | measles. Discovery of cause in most instances means a method of control. The constituents of the human body have been analyzed down to | thelr fundamental substances. The | modern hospital is built about the pathologic laboratory as its center. Pharmacology today is studied by medical schools to throw light on the fundamental phenomena of life, to permit the study of disease by producing artifical disease, and |to furnish more efficient tools for the treatment of disease. In 1825 man's expectancy of life was 35 years. In the perlod of 100 | years this expectancy has increased | by 20 years, so that a child born to- day may reasonably expect to reach the age of 55. The life expectancy after reaching the age of 50 one hundred years ago was for 21 addi- tional years, whereas today the life expectancy after reaching 50 is for 21 2-10 years. If additional life ex- | pectancy is to be accomplished after middle age it will ha to come | by overcoming the hazards of early |heart disease, high blood pressure |and other degenerative disease that |have been mentioned. Such con- {trol must come through the per- |lodic physical examination. Menas for the Family } By SISTER MARY l Breakfast—Stewed rhubard, ce- ireal, cream, French toast, syrup. ;milk, coffee. Luncheon—Creamed sweetbreads | cups, steamed asparag! marma- |in rice |cream cheese and orange |lade sandwiches, lemonade. Dinner—Brolled perch, cucum- |ber sauce, potatoes au gratin, new heet and cabbage salad, strawberry |frappe, crisp vanilla cookies, gra- !hand rolls, milk, coffee. | A rather dry cream cheese com- ibines more satisfactorily with mar- malade for a sandwich filling than a molst cheese. Preserved ginger i8 delicious with cream cheese for a |filling, too. Whole wheat, nut bread or plaln white bread may be chosen. | strawberry Frappe | ©One quart strawberries, 2 cups I water, 1 1-4 cups sugar. Combine sugar and water and [boil five minutes, wash and hull ! berries. Press through a sieve and add to syrup. Cool. Pour into mold. |pack in three parts ice to one part rock salt and let stand one hour. The mixture should be frozen to |“mush.” Serve with whipped cream |sweetened with a powdered sugar and lightly flavored with vanilla. Garnish with two or three fir« trawberries. FLAPPER FANNY SAYS: Oother women had | ons—and | she would have to let him go—not : for his flag—not for the peace of the word--not for right against might—she Lad to come at last to confess that she would let him go— not because America needed hir:, but because she hated Lyra Hilliard and would rather see him dead than | g0 to her. She must not let anyone know that it was for this she would make | no moan when his country sent him overseas—no one, not even Lyra, and most of all, not Natlee Jones must know why she—when he told | her he was going—would send him forth with Godspeed to whatever mnight come—sure in the knowledge hat he had escaped the woman who | had hetrayed her friendship. Anne Huntington Tracy went into her room and dropped to her knees heside the bed. She had only prayed since her boy was born that God would not let her other woman as unhappy as his father had made her. Today her son had made herself as unhappy as ever his father had. But even now she found herself making a bargain. “If I send my son to fight the battles of the right you will send him back to me, dear | God,” she prayed. (To Be Continued) Phil is a Trac; told next. Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of Iliness BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Editor Journal of the American | Medical Association and of Hygels, | the Health Magazine Medicine has progressed amaz- in the of systematic is distinctly organization which American has | Wynne Tracy 1V ever acknowledged | me. Yes, that I knéw. But he will |brought the benefits of medical | | Merely Margy, An Awfully Sweet Girl A vy NOISY. DONT YOU FIND THAT | LIFE 1§ LIKE THAT? 1 JUST AND I STAND TIC/" CANT EXIST. son make any | How he follows | the tradition of his family will be | past 25 years. That| RLG.U. 8. PAT. OFP. ©1927 BY NEA SERVICE, INC. Classical dancers risc to fame by leaps and bounds. COMPLETY EQUIPMENT Ffl ”‘,;\(' TION gg An exact gauging and correction is | certain with our i equipment and skill. [ALINKUS ! \3\00 r‘jAl,N ST