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Madge Determines, It She Is to Be a 597, Sho Will Bo an Efficlnt It knew that Marion was too sound at heart to have only a self- “Say nothing,” I told her in quick alarm. “You are not supposed to know that he has any other rea- | son for going than the one of nec- | essary business which he will give jah reaction to the mews I had giv- | Your mother. I told you only be- en her of her stepfather's sacrifice | in her behalf. It was but a few| seconds before her joy at the pros- | pect of having her mother to her-| self for the rest of her vacation gave way 1o quick contrition. “I'm a selfish, ill-mannered cub, she said, “but I'm not going to be low down enough to drive a sick| man away from home. Please tell | him, Auntic Madge, that he doesn't | need to go on my account. I'll be | g00d, and—and—T really don't mind | him—niuch.” She was too honest to omit the last word, and she was so pretty a feminine Don Quixote tilting at her | windmill that 1 ugain had to hold | down my mirth with an iron hand. “Your Uncle Dicky would tell | you not to upset the milk bucket, ‘ 1 told her, snatching any excuse for | a smile. “In the first place, Mr | Underwood isn’t sick any longer, in | the second you are not driving him | away, but he has made up his mind | to go and nothing you can say can change his decision, and in the third and most important place, it | will be a good thing for your moth- | er. T'll tell you more about this when you come back. For you wil go for this drive, won't you sweet- Leart?” I changed my mandatory tone to| a coaxing one, for I saw that all | danger of hysterical tears was over, and T felt that I no longer could | keep my mask of sterhness from | slipping. My heart was very tender toward the child who always has; Leen as dear o me as one of my | own blood could have been. She flashed over to me hugged me tightly. “Of course I'm going, you dar- | ling. I'm not quite a pig cven if 1! do act like'one. But—what shall 1| say to—to—Mr. Underwood about | his going away. and | Whiteféot Has Another Fright By Thornton W. Burgess The careless always will, 'tis clear, In danger be of sudden fear. —Whitefoot the Wood Mouse. Whitefoot the Wood Mouse and Mrs. Whitefoot and Trader the Wood Rat had become thoroughly tled in their homes in the little svgar-house in the Green Forest. At first Mr. and Mrs. Whitefoot had rather resented the coming of Trader the Wood Rat, but Trader is a pleasant fellow and a good neighbor, and they had grown to like him. Bo the three were getting along very nicely. There was a won- derful feeling of security inside that little sugar-house. Once inside they felt absolutely safe, Had not Yowler the Bobcat and Cubby Bear tried to get in and failed? But, of course, they couldn’t stay inside the little sugar-house all the time. More and more they ‘went outside, always ready to rgn back at the least hint of danger. During the daytime they rarely ‘went out at all. You know they are little night-folk. They love the hours of darkness. But even more they love the hours between daylight and darkness—the hours of dusk. And they love moonlight nights. When there was moonlight they would be out nearly all night. It happened one moonlight night that Whitefoot had strayed a litle farther than usual. For several nights they had not had a single scare and so Whitefoot had grown a little careless. You see, White- foot is very like other little folk in that he needs to be constantly re- minded of things. He needed to be reminded that there was danger lurking all through the Green For- est. So Whitefoot was running abont carelessly. Instead of keeping in the Black Shadows he often ran right out in the moonlit spaces, and this was a very careless thing to do. Mrs. Whitefoot had warned him sevcral times that he shouldn't do it. “Hooty the Owl will get you if you don’t watch out.” insisted Mrs. Whitefoot. “You know how he | snoops around without making & sound.” “Pooh!” declared Whitefoot, “He hasn’t been around here since we'y Iived over here. Don't you worry about me. I can take care of my- self. T know what I'm about.” It wasn't five minutes late Whitefoot ran out into a little pateh of moonlight and bezan runnin about. hunting for something to «at. He was so intent on what he was doing that he thought of noth ing else. What it was that warned him to look back of him all of a doesn’t know to this day. | But he did loo% back and he lool ed back just in time. With a squeal of sheer fright he jumped to side and div through knothole in an old log penced to be lying there #left the ground in that one else landed on the ve had just left. It was some a black mask on his face on his tail. Of course, you krow who that was. It was Bobby Coon. Bobby had just happened with nothing in particular mind when he caught ht Whitefoot running out in the moonlight. Now Bobby Coon. like #0 many other people of the Gree Forest and thz Green Mealow likes a Mouse now and then on h bill-of-fare. 1f Whitefoor | 1t happened to turn his head st when he did Bohby certainly 1d have had him. It was a narrow cape—one of the narrowest Whitefoot had had for a long Mrs. Whitefoot had seen it. had been peeping out from f ( that sudden b one littl that And ump some | ry spot he with | 1 rings ale on his E ot im ! brightl cause—" “There was not other way to make me behave myself,” she fin- ished with a rueful little smile. “All right, I won't say a word, and I'll | get ready right away. Tell him 1l be ready in ten minutes. And — and I'll be just as good as 1 possibly “I know you will, dear,” I £aid, kissing her and hurrying out of the room. Mary &tood at my door, knogking. “Oh! there you are she sald “I was just going to hunt for you. Could you let me have one ot those blotter sheets for my desk pad? 1 spilled ink on mine just now when I was filling my fountain pen.” o ‘Of course,” I said opening a closet where I keep miscellaneous supplies, “Here you are. “Thanks so much. How long te- for Marion's ready he said ten minutes.” Oh! I shan’t be that long,” promised and went back to she her | room. 1 stood i00king after her, a queer mind. Lou: conc nsistent little query in my ary is rather a careless ceper as far as her room is ned, It was unlike her to go | to the trouble of replacing an ink- spoiled blotter when a pleasure trip 18 in such imminent prospect. Suddenly I determined to have a look at that ink-stained blotter, doubtless now in Mary's waste- basket. Lillian had said that we must watch her mail and her ac- tions. If I were going to be a spy, 1 told myself bitterly, I would be an efficient one, and, with this de- termination in mind, I went down- stairs in order that I might have an opportunity to speak to Harry Underwood without either Mary or Marion hearing me. Copyright, 1928, Newspaper Feature Service, Inc. “Hooty the Owl will get you if you don’t watch out,” insisted Mrs. Whitefoot Plack Shadows, and she' was too frightened to even squeal a warn- ing. When she saw Whitefoot dis- appear in that knothole she gave a little sigh of thankfulness, and then how she did run for the old sugar- ight, 1928, by T. W. Burgess) The next story: *“Bobby Coon Grows Angry.” b IT'S UP TO GIRLS Nebraska City, Neh., Sept. (UP)—Nebraska Ctiy high school girls may decide for themselves, if parents do not object, whether they shall attend school with their legs covered. A member of the handed down an in which he said: “If parents want to send their children to school bare-legged, 1 don't see where the board has Jjurisdiction in the matter, although it is the duty of the school board to require that students keep with- in the hounds of decency. 19. school board opinion recently Paris, Sept. 19 (P —Unpressed pleats at Jane Regny's are stitched down over the hips, but allowed to hang free below the line of the stitching. They are used on 4 velvet print in black. white and yellow Jaisy pattern with collar and cuffs the |of georgette in two tones of yellow. By C. D. Batcheloy “What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form and moving, how ‘how like an angel! In appreciation, how like a god! world ! You'll find long and short words| in pleasing variety in today's puzzle. i The number of unkeyed letters is re- markably small, considering the symmetry of the design, Horizontal . Auricular. Feminine pronoun. . Nimbus. To adore. To make a type of lace. Black. A pine board. Tree having tough wood. . Back of the neck. . A personal satire in writing. To abscond. Rare or deficient in quantity. English coin. Tree bearing acorns. . Bristly. To withdraw. . To swerve. Hurried. To perform. . A fop. . Edge of a roof. 46, Female of the fallow deer. Toward sea. . Pitcher. . To finish. To le: Vertical . Ancient. . Digit of the foot . Yellow bugl . Inner part of a Roman temple, . To impress with some mark. . Hinged metal strap used lock. The character of a community Hair dye. striped camel’s hair cloth. To cut off as branches, . Unit. To entertain. 20, Any group of eight . Dower property. . Before, . Feline animal. . Eggs of fishes. . Low, vulgar fcHow To piece out. . A type of pine tres . Tmage. . To observe. . Cat's foot. . Period preceding rtant event. . Habit. . Home of heast. . To devour. SHE TRIES, TRIES AG ew Orleans, spt. 19 Mrs. Peter L. Livermor:'s s attempt ®0o commit suicide was successful | Her husha (ki un “stayed out too late.” for a| | appetite The paragon of animals!” Aol [ o AAIVe ZIE N[ [0l Aol 1] [£[07 | [RIETN[e] ZAR[0 KA TIAIR] 25 [0[R[APAA[R[1]A] H]Al N[0 [RTH} [E|T[E] [A[T]E7 DY DR. MORR Editor Journal of the Medical tion and of Hygeia, the Hee zine. One of the first effects of the jor reduction i weight which wept over the world following the great war was the Ureakfast as a rogular meal, People found that a glass of or- unge juice or fruit of some sort would start ofi the day for the adumit satisfactorily, particularly if com- Lined with the stimulation of black cofive, / Many mothers in the more pros- “customed leen late eat a late bre st and “liminate I nfortunately thes likely to re- of the 5 of society to hincheon hai cmaclves Ault s ar on the care el For Vaercise walking a considerable ged for mental and <hould have fuel it through its A wholesome and breakfast should be pro- lool child. (K fast wrepared, < to the bacon and the four hours in physical activities to « working day. icient rry fempting vided for 1¢ very s @ good r aricd from day to , the cereal, the . the children will cat with good and will thrive exceedingly. Fresh fruits sweetened with sux‘\r of cours: prime ing t Orang 8 grapefrut, pears, s and pineap- ra wide varis They have eficct of acid in hody. Cooked fruits include ar melon ple apple tewed prunes, or apricots ar in A tite: grain cluding xpress and admirable! In action, The beauty of the ly cooked, are excalient. The pre- cooked ccreals are helpful to those who have difficulties with digestion. Roughage Some of the special cereals pro- vide enough roughage to stimulate the intestinal tract. Much depends on the way in which the milk or cream is added to the cereal. Soak- ing the cereal in milk or cream makes a SOggy mass. The manufacturers are careful to suggest that the milk and cream be added at the side so that the crisp cercal may be sufficiently chewed and moistened with saliva before it is swallowed. The best beverage for the child is milk. Cocoa and chocolate are pleas- ant variants if the child wants some- thing hot. Waifles and pancakes may be caten occasionally, but should not be a regular diet for the child. They place too great a strain, particularly when soaked with quantities of sirup, on a sensitive stomach. Evening Styles Each Seems to Have Own Characteristics Paris, Sept. 19 () — Evenin 1r‘lrr-sw more or less own rules in the new fashions, rules which are not effective before din- ner and apply only to the electricai- ly lighted hours, Rule one calls for irregular lines. ! Necklines, waistlines, hemlines are lequally affected by the idea of ups and downs, There are exceptions to the rule, Rule two suits material to the line. Or, as some dressmakers pre- American | elimination of | haked ap- | fer to put it, the line to suit the | material. Materials for evening are | velvet, satin, taffeta, lame, lace and | chiffon. The third rute is concerned with color, which may be black, white, pale pink, pale blue, pale green, bright and dagk blue, shades of brown, biscuit or red. Or, if pre- terred, any other color that is out- standingly becoming. On those genecralities Paris has built some of the most interesting {evening dresses of many seasons, critics agree, A word of advice, issued by onc of the most earnest makers of fash- ion i« “Don’t be afraid to look different in your . evening clothes.” This designer says that evening clothes and day enti different in effect and pur- pose. He urges women to study the fashion plates of the Eighties 'and Nineties in a search for the hasic principles on which the night time chic of 1928 is built, kirts which flare in back below the hips, and dresses draped at back and side are a reflection of the fash- ions of the past century. used by |nearly all dressmakers for autumn. More fitted bodices are another in- lication of old-new fashions. ik BLI: COLORS Sept. 19, (P—Tobacco brown, tomato red, artichoke green and eggplant purple are some of the shades of vegetable inspiration Paris is going to wear this fall. Tomato red is one of the smartest sport colors, shown in jersey, kasha and wool mixtares. The browns are sport and street shades, and artichoke green is also a daytime color. But eggplant pur- ple appears only in evening styles, in chiffon or transparent VE Taris, | Taxcs come high in England. While the faxes there amount to |more than S75 per year per person, the rate in France is only about $40 !cracked wheat and oafuieal, proper- |and in Germany $25. Arci Individual| make their | clothes shoud be | Is Imperative|,, .. Care Is Foundation of Real Chic BY AMELITA GALLI-CURCI 1 do not believe that dress makes the woman, but that woman makes the dress. She stamps it with her own individuality. We all know that two women, giv: Wy AMELITA GALLI-CURCI difterent appearance in them. The one may look chic and stylish, the other as if her clothes had been or- iginally intended for another. The process of putting clothes on Is all-important to the woman who wears them well, For that reason the woman who races with time, when dressing, never looks smartly turned out, As every carcful woman knows, being well groomed i & first essen- tial in appearing well dressed. Every detail should receive meti- culous care: the hair, the skin, the nails and make-up. Twice a day, at least, the skin should be thoroughly cleansed. A last minute dash pre- cludes this careful grooming, as it precludes a thorough neatness. Make Good Grooming a Habit It i impossible to appear well dressed occasionally. To really look it, a woman must be well-groomed alway To make good grooming & regular habit requires far less time than to make it the exception. And this brings us to the important point of taking care of clothes. This last is particularly related to the care of evening dresses. No woman appears to good ad- vantage in soiled or crumpled finery. | And a good share of that state | comes from throwing a dress care- lessly over a chair or even on the | floor in a mad rush to get to bed on coming home at a late hour. Not every woman has the advantage of a personal maid, but a few minutes given personally to putting the eve- ning dress on a hanger will yleld permanent reward. Clothes wear doubly long if given those five min- utes of attention. Our grandmothers were not far wrong when they preached on the proverb *a stitch in time saves nine,” only they pictured the real fact too mildly for it saves ninety, ot nine, stitches later. While my life s a busy one, traveling great dis- tances and singing so many nights in opera or concert I find the only safe plan is to superintend a thor- ough looking over by daylight of & dress I wore the night before, SETTING THE STYLE Paris, Sept. 19. (A—When a thing is old enough to be forgotten it is due for a revival. That seems to be Paris’ working theory just at present. Peplums are the latest reincar- nation. Only a few aré in view far, but if these go well others e apt to follow. Peplums, for the sake of post-war dcbutan¥g are something standing out in the general region of the bottom of the bodice. Jeanne Lanvin shows a taffeta evening dress, with full floor-length skirt, having a peplum covered with shiny discs of look- ing glaes and lined with scarlet. Louiseboulanger shows a peplum in natural colored beaver fur, at- tached to a black satin coat. When Queen Victoria came to the throne, in 1837, there were 1,600 boys, under 16, awaiting transporta- tion aboard for petty crimes. NN ~REG. U. S PAT. OFF. ©1928, BY WA SEAVIL, W It always worries a man when his wife isn't always worried about him. | | That India Argument--- | \ Not Do to Judge Eastern Women' by Wem? ” Standards, Says Gertrude Emerson. BY JULJIA BLANSHARD New York, 8ept. 17.—"When cri- ticizing India for her child mar- riages, we should remember that our great-grandmothers often wed at 16, and that Juliet was only 14 when she eloped with Romeo.” Gertrude Emerson, associate editor of “Asia,” just returned from a year in remote parts of India, suggested thia “While late marriages have been recognized as good for health, Europe has survived on early marriages,” she pointed out. “We should also realize that in In- dia girls mature much more quick- ly than here. I often mistook a 12-year-old for 16.” S Different Standards “India is misjudged because we ‘Wasterners apply our standards to their behavior, especially in regard to thelr attitude towards women,” Miss Emerson said. tress is laid here vidual rights’ of women; it is ‘individual duties.’ Miss Emerson had lived on “indi- in India in In- Life in faraway Indinn: (Top) Miss tutional atop her favorite mount; taken by her Mitle house-bo; “Poctor” Gertrude Emerson’s portance of . the adolescent Our movies,; our clothes, m art and literpture get inspire from the unmarried girl in teens. In India one finds no coum ter part to this curious ‘civilised standard. \ We Might shock Them \ “In India they would say, ‘Th young girl has done nothing yet| to make her important. She has not faced responsibility, does ,not know what it means to have a family, or sorrow, or great joy.' Therefore the young girl is of no significance; she is wiped out in the family which is all4mportant, She doesn’t speak, covers her face, and practices complete abnegation until she has a child. Indians are capable of being as shocked at our treatment of women as Americans are at theirs.” Miss Emerson is writing the saga of life today of India outside of big cities, “not a de. fense of India, only the real story of the lives of various Indians I knew well.” erson off for her dally (insert) close-up of Miss LEmerson (lower) A typical momning scene, “patients” lined up waiting for treat- ment fn front of her cute bungalow with its veranda border of potted mountain plants, dia before, but never in the prov- inces. £he trekied clear to Pach- perwa, close to the border of Ne- pal and pitched her tent to prepare for a year's cojourn, the only white woman among thousancs of natives, " “The first worning beggars of all descriptions lined up for a few grains of rice,” she said. *The second morning the &ick, the halt, the biind and the lame arrived for treatment. Before I knew i, 1 was the ‘doctor’ with as many as a hundred patients a morning. Before the year was out I had reccived many shocks, such as finding out that my water-boy's wife, whom he wanted me to treat, had leprosy.” Natives Are Artistic Building her bungalow was a social affair. The three rooms and wide veranda with the thatched roof cost the equivalent of $250— material, labor and everything. Thirty natives lhm"h}ng the roof asked as wages 12 quarts of native wine a day. Everyone who could joined her crusade to the moun- tains to get flowers to fill the doz- ens of painted cans that formed a border to her veranda. “The native women became tre- mendously intorested in the color- ful things I did about the house,” Miss Emerson said. “On the gleam- ing white outside wall of way kitch- en, for instance, T sketched a huge elephant and then colored him. They all helped me make dye from herbs and before T knew it there were colorful elephants all over everything. They have innate talent for such thinga™ Miss Emerson, speaking their language as she does, learned first hand about India from thosc around her. There was her old bearded barber, who made her sit cross-legged while he gave her a cut; her cook who said he knew English cooking and then opened up all her choice cheeses, mints, condiments and candied fruits to serve with after-dinner coffee for r first breakfast; her little 11- year-old houscboy who had been ‘married since he was cight. omen Have Great Dignity “I found the Indian woman as mother and wife in her own house- hold has a distinct dignity and a devotion to her family that was admirable in comparison with some American women's shallow integest. If it were true that early marriage meant that women were abused and brutalized by this cus- tom, how could the Indian moth- er be the gentle, fine person she is? “One coffd argue that 20th cen- tury American civilization empha- sized sex fully as much as the In- dian civilization which Katherine Mayo scored so heavily in her Look.” Miss Emerson continued. “Our women have a false per- speetive, from the Indian point of view. In America everything to- days seems to emphasize the im- T arri.ed Menus gf the Family RY SISTER MARY Breakfast — Cantaloupe, cereal, scrambled eggs with dried beef, whole wheat and date muffins, milk, coflee. Luncheon—Potato and parsley soup, toasted cheese crackers, spinach timbales, rye bread, chil- dren's sponge cake, lemonade. Dinner — Spanish steak, twice baked sweet potatoes, buttered beets, cold slaw, frozen junket with fresh peaches, cake, milk, coffee, Children’s sponge cake is an ex- ccllent plain cake made without but- ter. 1t makes a good supstitute for a real sponge cake using twice as many eggs. Children’s Sponge Cake One and one-half cpps flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder, 1 cup eranulated sugar, 1-4 teaspoon salt, milk, 3§ teaspoen vanilla, and soft flour, sit, baking powder and sugar thre or four times. Break eggs into measuring cup and fill with milk. Add to dry ingredients and beat hard for five minutes, Beat in vanila and pour into an oiled and flourtd cake pan. Bake 30 minutes in & moderate oven, Cream can be used milk if a slightly richer cake wanted. Hard beating insurce E success of this cake. (Copyright, 1928, NEA 8¢ in place of » Inc.) In Berlin's newest stow there is a dining room for patjons’ dogs, where they are fed by attending waiters. Fashion Pl_aque This 18 the new Rodier knitted Jersey scarf in brilliant rey yellow and blue diagonal stripes, which Chanel sponsors.