New Britain Herald Newspaper, June 15, 1927, Page 10

A Love’s Einbers Adele Garrison’s Absorbing Sequel to “Revelations of a Wife” Beginning a New Seri; Ldllian Accepts the Invitation to Join the Outing Lillian instantly caught my cue |benefit, although I guessed that one | World and tossed it back at me. “That sounds most intriguing” she said, “especially the part about the work. I have something that 1 ought to finish today, but you know | that drawing board of mine. You | might as well propose to pack a baby elephant into the car. But tell me, first, who's throwing this par- ty? You know I'm not the twin sis- ter to that colored damsel who an- swered a telephone proposal of | marriage with tha answer, ‘Yaas, m marry yoh. Who is this, pleas It is impossible not to laugh at | Lillian’s nonsense, and as Mr. Verit- | zen saw my mirth he crossed to me and smilingly took the receiver from my hands. “It is your old friend P. V. who | is throwing this party,” he said, | and I felt my cheeks flaming as I realized that his keen ears had beard what Lillian's voice, with its peculiar carrying quality had said to me. Most vividly did I remember | her first sentence to me, with its flippant query: “Is the lifehoat needed?” I knew my employer's quick perceptions far too well not to realize that he had comprehend- ed Lillian's reference and was cog- nizant of my appeal to her for aid | such a dilemma as the one his invitation had given me. My chagrin deepened the mext sscond when Lillian's voice answer- ed him in words that were distinct- 1y audible to me, standing the same | relative distance from Mr. Veritzen a8 he had stood from me during my own conversation with my old | friend. | “You don’t need to say any more,” he assured him with decision. | T'1l be on hand. Your morals and | vour temper have always room for | improvement, but your parties can't be tied in New York or any compass point radiating therefrom.” | “My appreciation is bounded only | by the limitations of your compli-‘ The Other Stranger By Thornton W. Burgess The thing you want with all your might Seems bound to keep just out of | sight. —Old Mother West Wind Perhaps you will remember that | Old Man Coyote, going back to the | Old Pasture, after discovering the | big footprints of the stranger in the Green Forest, ran across some other | strange footprints, and these were ! up in tho Old Pasture. Now, the| surprising thing about these foot- prints was that they were exactly like his own, only smaller—just a wee bit smaller. Old Man Coyote forgot all about the big footprints over in the Green Forest. He could think of nothing but these strange footprints in the Old Pasture, didn’t know how to account for | them. But then, he didn't know how to account for that other voice so like his own. He had no room in- side for thought of anything except how lonely he suddenly felt. He He | o his shoulders rose as he drew | door?” she {which 1 |into the room. s S S ment,” Mr. Veritzen told her, with a wry little grin, ostensibly for my barb of her apparently jesting com- ment had sha complacency. ow, aout ly penetrated his | that | B3efore this drawing board of yours — do vou | mind giving me its dimensions?" If Lillian guessed that he had heard her side of the ‘telephoned | conversation with me she gave no | sign of her knowledge, but answer- | ed his question promptly and coolly. | Mr. Veritzen jotted the measu ments down. “How soon will you be ready accompany us?” he asked. “How soon can you be at countered. With a glancs at his watch, Mr. Veritzen made a hasty calculation. “If Otto is as prompt as usual, twenly minutes from said 1'll be read ahout twanty minutes ed. “But 1 can't waste time talking, even to you, revoir.” Mr. Veritzen turned to me smil- ing. “I'm sure there's no need to re- prat Mrs. Underwood’s side of that conversation to you,” he sald. “It must have heen perfectly audible to ‘ou. 1 never have known a veice wi such a peculiar carrying qual- iy over the tclophone as hers.” Again T felt the blood rush into my checks with the knowledge well knew he meant to give me — that he also had heard Lillian's comment to nre con- corning himself. But to my great relief he turned back to his desk, struck a bell, and one of the girls in the outer office came noiselessly to | | my to start in| she respond- any more so ap “My chauffeur must be waiting downstairs,” he said. “Will you please ask Henderson to go down and send Otto up to me. Ask Hen- erson to stay down near the car until Otto retvrn: Copyright, 19 Feature Service, Newspaper Ine. hurt he said softly sharp face peering out from the bushes. The hair along his back and ‘I won’ you," near this spot. Perhaps you have seen the hair on the back of a dog | rise. Man Coyote. “Come out of there and fight.' hadn't felt that way since his first two or three weeks on the Green Meadows. That fact is, hearing that | voice and seeing those had made sick. Ha lost his appetite. Now when Old Man Coyote loses his appetite something is seriously disturbing him. Yes, sir. it is so. It fakes a lot to make Ol appetite. When Sammy Jay came over to tell him the cxciting news of how Spotcoal the Leopard had been caught in the G Ol Man Coyote hardl Old Man Coyote home- aid more than cock up one car. He really was | didn’t | a bad listencr. Summy Jay know what to make of it. Finally, Sammy fiew away in disgust. Old Man Coyote left his doors and trotted swifily along an cowpath in the Old Pasture. Pres- ently he came 1o a muddy spot Such a queer feeling as swept all over Old Man Coyotr. There another one of thos: footprints, Ii%e his own, but smaller, Morcover it had just been made, for wag still running into it. Ol Coyote hounded forward cagerly Ahead of him he caught just a glimpse of a fail around a turn in the bounded forward around that turn. His eyes blazed with eagerness. He could up the path for some little distance. No one was on it. He had been g0 sure that he would see soma one there that he simply stood still and blinked foolishly. Old Man Coyote sighed. Then he stood perfectly still Not so much as a hair of him moved. He was listening as only O1d Man Coyote can listen, and at the same time he was using that won- derful nose of his to test evor Merry Little Breeze that came h way. Presently he had a queer feel- ing. Did you ever have the fecling that some one was watehing vou? Well, that was the fecling Old Man Coyote had. It made him v . Yet he couldn’t scc any one, h couldn’t hear any one, and couldn’t smeli any one. Rather stiff-legged, for Ol Man Coyote was beginning to fecl a little and when he is cross he som walks atiff-legged, he moved up the cowpath. Just as he r ep was path. e and whirled along ched the next turn in the path he turned | to look hack. He bis head quickly was just in time to see a sharp nose | first, | was very angry. | withdrawn in the hushes. At Old Man Coyet He growled. Thon turned marched back more stiff- than bhefore. He marched bhs he and gfl‘l fOOLDINtS | (harp nose, It was the scent of the Man Coyote lose his | Forost, | old | disappearing | fairly | he | nes | bushes. A strange scent tickled that | stranger. But instead of making him angry, that scent filled him with a gre | this stranger. He wanted to hecome acquainted. | I won’t hurt you,” he said roftly. “Won't you he friends But there was no answer. (Copyright, 1927, by T. W. Rurgess) The next story: “Reddy Mrs. Reddy Gossip.” Fox and \Menas for the Family leer bran eream, frizzied serambled eggs, milk, coffee, Luncheon | stew, dried crisp vory “Come out of there!" snarled Old ! No one answared. Old Man Coyote | | poked his sharp nose in among the | eagerness. He wanted to meet | | Mrs. - | er's. He { ter to Phillip list. toast, | vegetable | sandwiches, | NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, WEDNESDAY; JUNE 15, 1927. My WLYSIRIIED AND COPYRIGHTED BY JOHNSON FEATURES /M‘ WHAT HAS HAPEN The entrance of America 1nto the war finds PmZip Wynne ! Tracy 1V suffering from the collapse of his first passionate love affair. ke and Natlee Jones, who is the daughter of the Tracy's milkman, had had a childish en- gagement which, however, had been objected to by both Mr. Jones and Tracy. Phillip becomes interested in Lyra Hilliard, an old friend of his moth- takes her to luncheon and hortly finds he is falling in love. The whole affair, however, sinks | into nothingress because war is de- Clare nd after writing a cruel let- Lyra leaves without secing him or his mother. Rod and Phil are the first to en- Rod and Phillip start for the barracks. Natlee goes to the wrong depot to sec them off, and in her anxiety to ses Phil she ignores Rod entirely. This nearly breaks his heart. Phillip writes his mother asks her to be good to Natlee, Phillip finds he must leave for the southern training camp before secing his mother again. Here the story further unfolds— CHAPTER XXVIHI Phillip Makes An Unexpected Call A few days after Phil had reached } the training camp he received a let- ter from his mother. He had, of course, expected a wire, and had be- gun to get rather worried. It had never entered his mind | that the news that he had started for the camp would not be the most momentcus she could possibly receive, unless she had learned that he was going across immediately. Before he opened her letter, a little sinking of the heart told him he was not prepared for its contents, “Dearest Son: “Of course you can conceive how disappointed 1 was to receive your telegram saying you had been or- dered south. It was like bidding you good-hye all over again “Major Aukland, however, assures + you will probably not leave nee for many months. It that is found to be true, 1 will come down there. “I do not suppose member Major Aukland, Phillip. He was very kind to me after your father died. He left America for gland, eight years old, and I had not seen him since until T ran into him at a Red Cross meeting the other day, and we renewed our old friendship. “We had kept up an occasional correspondence at first, but it died out as such things always do. and, T suspect he had almost forgotten me, as 1 had him. He tells me he come now that America has entered the war, ani joined the National Red Cross. He was a major in the Spanish war. which little old for active regular army. “I told him about your enlisting and he seemed to think that it was splendid for brave for me to let you. went back to Washington he sent me a wire asking if T would not like to come down there and work at the headquarters? He told me that it would be impossible for me to go that you re- duty in the !across, because they were ahout is- | suing an order that no mothers of song in the service would be allowed | in overseas work. *Of course, over to \Washington, and was T immediately went there ginger 4, fresh pincapple, tea | Dinne steamed Boiled spinach, ad, old-fashioned shorteake, milk, eoffos Savory Vegetable Four alices bacon, & falilespoons | butter, 1 onion, 1 tablespoon minced parsley, 1 teaspoon minecd sage, 4 |cups sliced sweet potatocs, 1 cup | stock or water, 2 cups sifted canned tomatoes, 1-2 cup grated choese Chop hacon and slowly try out fat in soup kettle finely minced is a golden hrewn. A sage. Add sweet have after paring and slicing. tle until thoroughly | covered with butter then cover kei- tle and cook over a low fire for five I minutes, Add water and tomato pulp and simmer for min Serve with grated cheese over the top. Copyright, 1927, e cottage ham, stuffed dd parsley and potatoes which Shake ket potatoes are NEA Serviee, Ine READ ¥ FOR YOUR WAN | Avoid Imitatione asktor Horlick Tre ORIGINAL H " Maited Milk - Safe Milk Y and Food | M For INFANTS, Chlldnn Inoalids .‘" Ages the place whers he had secn u:-l # mitk, | been parboiled for ten minutes | sprinkled | RALD CLASSIFIED ADS and | she had waited to write, but at that | however, when you were | has | makes him a | you to go and very | After he | when your wire came to the house, telling me you = had been ordered south, It was relayed to me after some ‘delay, as Nonnie, whom I had left in charge, had unexpectedly gone to the hospital with quinsy. “Dear heart, I have now come home to pack up a few things and go back, for I do think I can help out a little. “After 17 years of managing my tions, and being most successful at both, T can bring that experience 10 the Red Cross with fl!lclency and profit to the organization.” Phil almost dropped the letter be- fore he had finished it. It did uot sound at all like his mother who had never before spoken to him about any of her financial or busi- ness affairs. ing allowance since he entered his | same—he had usually spent it be- | fore the month was half over and | she financed him until next payday. If be thought of money or: busi- ness at all in reference to his moth- er he had a vague idea that her house was run by Nonnie-and the other servants and the bills were paid by the estate lawyer and the Trust and Security company. Almost with distaste he picked up Lis mother's letter again and tinued reading: “I am very grateful to Major Aukland for finding something for me to do, Phillip, for I do not think T could have stayed here in this big Now T that 1 life and safety for company. Lope my days will be so full | will not have time to think. “By the way, T piave just remem- | hered that an old" school friend of mine marricd a man hy the mame of ‘Tennis’ and went to FEl Paso to live. Marta Tennis had a daughter whom she named after herself and who must be about your age. “I am enclosing a note for Marta. only for my sake, but for your own. “Dear Boy, I am the saddest and happlest woman in the werld—the | saddest because yoy, my son, are | facing—I know. not what—and hap- piest because Major Aukland has made it possible for me to work so | hard that there will be occasionally. | shall forget. “I love you, dear, and am lost without you. I am always asking myself why'I let you go. | “Mother.” | As though he could not under- and it all, Phillip folded the letter | carefully and looked up at the sky. | Tt was a dome of Frass that reflect- ! ed the hot and uncomfortable sand. His mother! | Was it possible that had written him the letter | just real? Was it possible that his mother | could write him a newsy lstter al- | most wholly about herself and her | own affairs? It seemed to. Phillip Tracy as though his new strange world that he had just entered was about to tumble about his head. He could not concelve mother could have any interest in life that did not concern him per- | sonally and individually. | The idea of her giving up the old | home and going to Washington un- til the end of the war was unthink- able. He racked his b@in to place | this Major Aukland, of whom her [letter was so full. He could 1ot re- {member him. his mother he had He went in and shut the door big home and my financial opera- | He had always found his increas- | grammar school at the bapk in his | con- | house with only my fears for _\'our’ I know she will be nice to you, not | !here and there, a moment when I | that his | Sons Sueetiearts DA McGION[Gl Of course, he was some man who wanted to get his clutches on his mother's money. She ought to real- ize that she too old to attract a man. He stopped as he felt his | face grow hot. His common sense whispered that he who had been bowled. over by Lyra Hilllard—a | woman nearly the age of his mother | —might not be considered capable | of judging how old a woman must | be before she would cease to attract some man. The more he thought of it, how- ever, the more hurt and angry he got. His mother should have stayed where he left her. After all, he was the head of his father's house. He could not picture her established in Washington. He was cut adrift. He seemed to have lost everything that he had ever felt was his own. First, be- cause of a moment’s madness, Nat- lee had told him she would ne er marry him, Then, because he thought he must be patriotic and follow in his father's footsteps, he had joined up for this silly old war, which up to date had neither thrills nor glory, consisting, as it did, of bad food, hard work and continual- ly being sworn at by ignorant “non-coms and shave-tails.” And Lyra Hillard—why had she picked on hm? Could no woman resist a little attention from a man, | young or old? Phil shook himself as though to get away from all these unpleasant thoughts. He was also a little | ashamed to have put his mother in | the same category with Lyra Hil- | liard. | He even smiled a little as he saw Nod coming from the company ta.- {lor with the two bars on his sleeve | which had been given him _that morning. But his pride in Rod's| being made a corporal held a sting. | {as he knew that in the nature of | things it would spoil some of their {intimate friendship. Nevertheless, he snapped Into a salute and asked: | “What are you going to do tonight, | Corporal? I'd like to celebrate with you. Sorry, Wyrne, T will be on duty | tonight,” and passed on. That evening Phil, who had been getting more and more discontented, for Rod had been very busy all day, wandered into town and ordered a | room at the hotel, reveled in a very hot bath, dressed and brushed his clothes, shoes and hair with the same scrupulous precision, and went down to dinner, As he was shown to his table, he passed Lieuterant Andrews and one of the prettiest girls he ever saw. He found hLimself nearly opposite his commanding officer, but that did not keep him from smiling at the girl. She, having no reverence for the red tape of the army, and noting that the private was handsomer {than the officer she was with, re- turned his smiles with interest. The two managed to work up a gay lit- tle flirtation before Phil finished his dinner, “The lieutenant will probably put me on K. P. tomorrow,” he said to himself, as with a gay wave of his hand he swung out of the door. “Who is that girl in there with Lieutenant Andrews,” he asked the man at the desk. “That is Miss Marta Tennis," | swered the clerk. Hastily * taking out his mother's | letter of introduction to her mother, | he w'rote on the back of it: “May I call soon?" Then he very ostentatiously called a waiter and stood at the dining { room door until he caught her nod | ot permission, and incidentally the raging fury of the lieutenant. As he left the dining room he i realized tha: he was loncly. He cursed the lieutenant. He missed 1 Rod. He walked out aimlessly, until all at once he became aware that he was in a narrow street filled en- tirely with men, Each side of this street was lined with what scemed to he a great high wall pierced alternately with a window and a door—a window (and a door, When these doors were open and | curtains were up. one would catch | a glimpse through them of a bed, a chair, a chest of drawers and a half-open bathroom. while always a woman stood at the door- ,way with beckoning smiles. With a distasteful shrug of the shoulders, Phil passed on until he was stopped hy the sound of a rasp- (ing cough. He raised his eyes to | the face of a frail girl, very young and evidently very sick and miser- able, Her eyes challenged him with her unhappine He stared at her for a moment, and then brushing her inside, he went in and shut the door. | CHAPTER XXIX On Kitchen Police The girl, still coughing, stood for 2 moment while Phil waited uncom- | almost, | | was told to report immediately after | breakfast to the first sergeant. | sald: zide of the bed. “Gee, you nave a terrible cough,” said Phil. “Yes, isn’t it?” she answered looking him, for the first time, straight in the.face. . “When I saw you through .hat screen door, you looked as miser- able as I feel,” he volunteered. “Why, what have you got to be unhappy about?"” “Plenty,” answered Phil, l-conl- cally. “T have just had some ter- rible news from home. Everything has gone to smash in my family.' The girl laughed. Phil thought that the sound was worse than a sob. “Don't you know you're in luck if you even have a family? Can the selt-pity, kid, for it you get me started, God help us both.” “You don’t mean to tell me that you think you're really unhappy, and she took him in slowly from the top of his sleek brown hair to the tip of his shiny shoes with an appraising eye. What she found theére she evi- dently found good to look at, for a look of tenderness came into her eyes that no man had probably seen there for many years. Then because it takes only a, .00k of sympathy and understanding to unlock the lips of a boy, Phillip Wynne Tracy 1V, in that sordid crib down there hy the border, opened his heart and told this poor, halt- starved, flung aside morsel of hu- manity, the story of his first passion —the story of Lyra Hilllard. His words came with a rush. The girl sat 8o still he was not sure she was listening, and finally to cover | nis own display of feeling to a com- parative strariger he stopped in the middle of a sentence, “Gee, I don't even know your name,” he ex- clalmecy “and you're nice, too.” At this the girl raised her face again. Two large tears welled up in her eyes and ran unheeded down her cheeks. Seeing them, Phillip knew she had heard everything and . under- stood all. “Y am Phillip Wynne Tracy IV.” he. announced, as though he had made her one of his friends then and there. “I'm going to send you a doctor.” “Oh, I'm all right. I'll get: better or dle soon—either one won't myke any differenca to the world, any- way." ll stop on my way back to camp.” he continued, as though she | had not spoken. She turned away her head and he heard he mutter as though to herself: “I have no money to pay a doctor.” Then quickly she spoke as though she were afrald he had heard her. “It is late, Wynne. You !houh‘l be on your way back to camp.” Phil looked at his watch rather ostentatiously. It gave him a chance to recover from the sound of the name of “Wynne” from the lips of this girl — it was later than he thought, He realized he Jad to hurry. su)n sticking in the back of his head, however, was that muttered sentence, “I have no money to pay a doctor." Almost turning his back upon her in that little room, he awkwardly took $10 from his pocket and care- lessly tried to leave it on the chest of drawers beside the bed without her sceing him doing it. The girl, who had not missed & move he had made, looked up at him gratefully from the bed ‘where she was sitting, but said nothing. Phil walked over and picked up one of her hands which, pale and quite beautiful, were lying relaxed in her lap among the folds of her red kimono. He patted it bashfully with the same gentle movement that he had used when he was try- ing to comfort his moth “Good-bye,’ he said. like to stay and talk with you long- er, but I'll, be late it T don’t hurry, and I'd hntc them to put me out of the army.” At this the girl smiled. With a little catch in her breath she ex- claimed: “Don't worry, kid. They wouldn’t put anybody as nice as you out of any place.” Phil grahbed his hat and opening the door he rushed for a jitney. The girl sat for a moment ‘looking through the open doorway where ne had vanished. Then she got up wearily, picked up the bill and dropped it in the upper drawer of the chest, walked over to the win- dow and pulled up the shade. Phil managed to get past the guard, although he was aware that it was about a minute after twelve and he congratulated himsgelf that everything was all right. He had forgotten, however, about the encounter Wwith Licutenant Affrews. Soon he was lying on his camp cot, his eyes wide open in the Jarkness, wondering how such & “lady” could have come down 8o 1o The next morning at revellle he He was mystified but he under- stood when Top Sergeant Muldoon “Licutenant Andrews has re- ported that you were not in your ouarters at midnight. Military dis- fortably for the paroxysm to pass. As %000 ax it hecame a little les: <he moved foward the window and pulled down the shade. Then she came back and sat down on |Merely Margy, An Awfully Sweet Glrl Add hutter and onion | nd cook nntil onion | the | | cipline must be upheld, Tracy. Lieutenant Andrews has instructed that you be detailed to kitchen po- lice for three days and that your passes to town be withheld for that 10U SAY ITS A GOOD| | | HORSE, WHAT | S coLam 15172 “I—I—Td | time.” Phil started for the camp kitchen, passing Rod on the way. “Where are you going, Wynne?” Phil saluted formally: . “I have been detailed .to kitchen police and am on my way, corporal “Damn corporal,” said Rod. “Wm a minute.” . es, sir,” sald Phil, snappily, saluting again ‘and coming to “at- tention,” - his® eyes fairly dancin for he knew he was getting Rod's goat. “What were you detalled for, Wynne? You haven't been doing anything, have you?” “That scurvy shave-tail Andrews caught me flirting with the girl he was at the hotel with last night and he reported 1 was not in at mid- night. I had passed the guard at that time, hcwever, and was on my way to my tent, but, of course, I couldn’t say anythin “The guard may have given me a little leéway, but some one re- ported I was not in my tent right at the instant ot twelve. My ' passes are revoked for three days, but if Andrews thinks he is going to keep me in camp, damn him—he's got | another think coming.” All.the morning Ph)lllp ‘Wynne ! Tracy 1V peeled potatoes and onions until he couldn’t see out of his eyes, but in the afternoon he had his re- ward. In cleaning up things he found a fine porterhouse steak that had been laid aside for the officers’ mess, and he beat the dog robbers to it. Having toasted some bread on the top of the camp stove and after having broiled the steak he tvas en- joylng the best meal he had ever had in camp, when about four o'clock Lieutenant Andrews strolled around to see how that upstart of a Tracy was getting along. ‘ “I'll just show him he can’t play any tricks on me,” he said to him- self. He found ‘“the upstart” playing another trick, however. He was eat- ing a gorgeous hot porterhouse sandwich and seeming to be emjoy- ing himselt very much. Phil came to attention as the lieutenant came up and, of course, the luscious sand- wich dropped to the ground. He was happy that there was only a little of it left, however, and e was glad hs didn’t have to say any- thing, for his mouth was tull. As it was, it was hard work for him not to laugh in the face of his su- perior officer, That night he rolled up a hlanket with some of his clothes and ar- ranged it in his cot so it would look to the guard passing like a man sleeping with his face to the wall Then he stole out. He had planned to go back and see the girl on the narrow street again. But as he was going down the main street he heard his name call- ed and turning saw an outstretchdd hand from an automobile. Above it there was the radiant face of Marta Tennis. Phillip stepped from the curb and grasped the girl's hand. “I'm 80 glad I found you,” Marta Tennis exclaimed. “I've been driv- ing up and down this street for an hour hoping to do so. I'm just go- ing back home now to pick up mother. “She is all pepped up with the though of meeting the son of Anne Tracy, as she calls your mother. We are going out to the country club. Would you like to go with us “I'll be very glad to go, Tennis.” “It's ‘Marta’ to you. you know.” said the girl, smiling. “Come on, get in and we'll find mother, and don’t you worry, we'll get you back to camp in the car.” Mrs. Tennls, too, was as cordlal as possible when Phillip met her and had all sorts of questions to ask about his mother. When he told her that she had gone to Washington to work in the National Red Cross and mentioned Major Aukland, she ex- claimed: “Oh, I remember Major Aukland. He was devoted to Anne before she was married, and some one of my friends wrote me that he left for England because he could not persuade her to marry him after your father died.” “Say, Phillip,” interrupted Marta, “you certainly are not any one that Lieutenant Andrews would shed his life's blood for, if he found you in the hands of the enemy.” 'Why should he? It's only pri- vates that shed their life's blood for Miss officers. No officer has anything in | you | common with a buck private, know.” “Well, I told him you were a very special buck private, which didn’t seem to make things any better. He was 80 furious that he couldn’t see straight when you sent me that note last night. I think it he could have found any regulation that would have permitted it, he would have had you shot at sunrise this | mornin “I'm sure he would,” said Phil, smiling. “As it was, he -had me de- talled for kifchen police, but it was worth it, you know. But let's don't talk about Licutenant Andrews. T have met my mother's friends and it almoat seems like meeting my own mother, and I'm going to have the first dance I've had since I joined the army with the prettiest girl I've seen since I've been a sol- dier.” “Phillip, you're like your father, said Mrs. Tennis. “He used to have the reputation of paying the nicest compliments of any young man of my day.” (To Be Continued) ‘Will the daughter of Mrs. Tracy’s friend restore Phi's faith in her sex? The next chapter will tell whas ‘happens. Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of [liness By DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Editor Journal of the Amdcican Medical Association and of Hy- geia, the Health Magazine Sir Humphrey Rolleston, physi- cian in ordinary to the king of England, former president of the Royal College of Physicians. and the possessor of a list of tities that well cxhausts the scientific alpha- bet. of degrees, has recently cone tributed his views on the use of ale cohol to a British publication. “Clinical observations,” he says y infumerable medical ‘men over long” ages has brought in a verdict favorable on the whole to the use of alcohol in disease, and it has naturally been urged that there may be a fallacy in arguing from the effects of alcohol in health to those in disease.” Dr. Rolleston believes that the main value of aicohol is in emer- gency, ‘as a temporary remedy as in the crisis of pneumonia, to aid the work of the heart, or occasion- ally as a sedative to induce sleep. Its stimulating effects are quits temporary and are followed by de- pression. 8ir Humphrey Rolleston indicates also the use of alcohol as a food in cases in which ordinary, [nourishment cannot be satisfactor- ily used by the body. He points out that in ol¢ persons or in those con« valescent from acute diseases, when there is- distaste for meals, and & disturbance of the digestion, the addition of some aleoholic bever- ages to the diet may make all the difference between distaste for meals and the ability both to eat and to assimilate foods. As to the use of alcoho! in sud- den heart failure and threatened fainting, he says.that its action on the stomach maw reflexly stimulate the heart rapidly and powerfully. It should, of course, be followed by the use of proper remedies, such as digitalls, to continue the proper urging of the heart action. Its use in chronic heart disease he consid: ers inadvisable. The British physician is also convinced that the chief value of alcoholic beverages in the practice of medicine is to produce an arti- ficlal sense of well being, perhaps a will-to-recover that is not present in the patient who is depressed. The donkeys of Syria are forced to carry a double burden, due to the practice of decorating them with heavy decorative trappings. The moment you apply Dr. Scholl's Zino-padsall painends. That's becaute they stopthe cause of corne—pressing and rubbing of shoes, Resnlts guar- iteed, They are thin, medicated, anti- septic, healing. Absolutely safe At all drug and shoe stores. Scholl’s ino-pads Put one on—the” pain is gone! Kew for Quality Bee for Bread 'PRECISF TCHESTNUT 15 A SN{\?D -4 X]BUT ROSE BEICE i } IS MUCH f?§ MORE CHIC Y|