Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, July 9, 1915, Page 9

By Virginia Terhune Van de Water. (Copyright, 1915, Star Company.) *“l wonder if, when I was jyoung, 1| tratned my mother as my daughter | trains me now,” mused my friend. She iooked annoyed, and I was sorry for her even before 1 understood what was troubling her. *“What do you mean by ‘training’?" asked. ““Oh, telling me how 1 cught behave, suggesting that I am of becoming old fashioned—in , e ting me right in general,” she explained. “Does Mary do all these things to you I asked, “She seems devoted to you." “She is devoted to me,” Mary's mother hastened to assure me. “But she does correct me and tell mo of my mistakes. I suppose,” with a sigh, “that it s good 1 to look or in for us mothers to have our daughters train us” It is one of the mysteries of life that #c few of the things that are “good for us’" are agreeable-from the time the parent says to the chiid who sucks her thumb—“take your thumb out of your mouth!” to the time when that child, grown to young womanhood, suggests that the bonnet which her mother wears is “hopelessly old #ashioned.” 1 say advisedly rown to young womanhood,” for sons differ from daugh- ters. If a father has peculiarities, the boys smile good-naturedly and let him alone. Is it that they do not care enough about how he appears to incur his dis- pleasure by remarking that certain things he does are not strictly good form? Or is it that a boy's training s not along the lines that makes him notice petty failings and trifling detalls? We take it for granted that sons will not to over-critical of their mothers. A devoted son seldom is. There are several reasons for this. In the first place, he knows too little about “‘the latest thing”’ fn woman's dress to fancy that his mother is old-fashioned. In the second place, it he has been properly trained by his mother he feels for her a chivalry that casts a mantle of tender tolerance over her appearance and actions. She is alwaye ‘‘dear little mother” to him—dearer, perhaps, for certain “quaint ways" that would annoy had finished the tale and noticed his galed him with the same anecdote last ‘Why did you not check your mother when she began the story? daughter later when I was alone with her. The girl of 2 looked at me with a sad smile. “And suppose | ‘Mother, dear, you told Mr. Smith that tale before.’ do you know what she would have done?" she asked. “No? Well, she would have drawn herself up and said, {1 beg your pardon!' in a manner that would have sent a ohill to my bones. 1 | would rather let her tell the same story |to the same listener one dosen times than get in wrong by reminding her that she was doing s0." Yet has not love some rights? I know that some daughters are unloving and Impatient, but others do mean well. And, as the girl above quoted suggests, one does want one's beloved to appear at her best “When I see low uncomfortable wel meaning daughters make their mothe: | I had sald 1 am glad I have only sons!' T heard one woman exclaim. Which is a sentiment that many a mother of daughters arouses in the breast of many a mother of sons. A Fictionless Fable for the Fair How a Pilatonic Friendship May Result in an Antl- Platonic Surrender. By ANN LISLE. There was once a girl who believed in platonic friendships. And she made a specialty of them. “Why friends?" she knew. | forced laugh that I recalled Naving re- | 1 asked the ' gently: ' shouldn’'t men and women be | she asked of all the women | “I'm sure it's perfectly pos- | his sister. They do not interfere with his |gible and much more: interesting than \aeal of what his mother ought to be. |merei having emotions all the time. It She is “just mother,” that's all. Bup-{, . o real compliment 1 some man jose the dear creature does wear trains | ... ... the nose, when other women are wearing Short|,e g, gncestors have more responsibility skirts? They are her trains, the son as-l, .0 1 put i¢ g chap says I have a rerts, and if she feels mcre comfortable | poer “ynowleage of world politics or when her dainty feet are hidden in folds i)y o fine game of bridge he is talking for which a line | L Bl The parasol io the left is of the magpie combination, with bakalite hanile. The hat i of sk, and worn with a white orgendis and black moire neckicce. Te the right is a ourious Adam and Eve paracel. It lops a wide white hat and accompanies a high neck- piece, with a lace jabot. | e OMALLY, FatbDAY, dud ¥ Harper's Bazar., Republished by Speci al Arrangement with Well, many a leader of capital would have come no nearer the truth. For to the casual eye Tommy instead of Mary had been the pleader and the rejected. In the mining town of Bitumen in west- |crn Pennaylvania, there was for the | moment an armed truce between the strike breakers and the strikers. The latter, under the leadership of Gunsdorf, held the village: the former, under the personal supervision of Kehr, had bullt of drapery, whose business is 1t” He is glad his mother does not look Lke a fashion plate, At least, all this is what he would say if his attention was drawn o her oddities of If these were not called to his notice Hé~ probably=would not know of their existence. Iri the third place, the difference in sex yrevents feminine fallings ‘‘getting on his nerves,’ as they migit on the nerves of a woman or &irl So, after all it is the daughter who is guilty of the “training’ to which the parent objects. “T shall stop telling mother when her hat is crooked,”’ a young girl declared. ‘She has a way of tossing her head when animated in conversation, and though she may start out with her hat in its proper place—and pinned there.too—byl the time she has been chatting for a half lhour it is over one ear. Yet when I say to her softly and gently; ‘Mother, straighten your bonnmet, dear,” she flushes and is wounded. “Today she observed that it was strange that I was the only person who ever complained of her appearance. [ had just called her attention to the fact that she had spilled something on her lace jabot, leaving a stain there, “I am sorry my looks mortify you,” she said stiffly. “Yet you are the only per- son who ever complains of my appear- ance.” “I 4id not say to her—what is true-— that nobody else loves her so dearly, nobody else is so anxious to have others see her at her best. when 1 think that anyone to whom she in talking may look at her critically and ‘wonder why Mrs. G. will wear her hat over one ear’ or be ‘surprised to see such a charming woman so untidy about her dress.’ 1 can imagine such a person thinking, ‘Why, she has on a spotty neck-rig!" Yet, much as I love mother, 1 must allow her to go about just as she happens to be and keep silent, but when she says to me, ‘Dear, that collar you have on is solled,’ I am grateful to her.” “But,” I ventured lamely, ‘‘she has always been in the habit of correcting your faults of manner and of dress.’” “And she has done it hecause she loves me!” was the uncontradictable reply. ‘Yet she will not see that it is love for her and pride In her that make me sug- gest little changes in her attire ‘What would I say? I knew she spoke the truth. “I am very much vexed with my daughter,” a mother told me, “‘because she allowed me to repeat to a caller last night the very same story which I had told him at length upon the occasion of his last visit to us. It was not until T It actually hurts me | about things over which I have been to some personal pains. “Mere femininity—an accident of. sex— isn't a thing on which any sane woman wants to base conquest of the crudely maculine. 1 like me minds. 1 want them to admire mine, and my character, and my ability to be a pal-ax good a pal as another fellow. Now, isn't that the best way And the man to whom she spoke would look upom a pair of black-lashed gray gif's face would have been sending wire- less messages stralght to his heart. Then, as men are sane creatures, who seldom ask figs from thistles, he would conclude l(hn( she was a cold little thing—but pretty and clever and presentable withal —and that he might as well play the game her way, since it was her way, or not at all Most of the men who knew her liked her second best to their wives, or third best to the sweethearts between whom they were hesitating—and found them- selves telling her so. And she liked It— and boasted about it. “Tommy Jones and T are the best pals,” she once told Rex Darwin. “He says there isn't another girl in the whole world he can see because he loves Clara so—but that doesn't interfere with his honest liking for me. I've got his liking. That is mine for all time. It's there— just there, like the Rocky mountains or the great lakes. It would take am up- heaval of nature to destroy it “And does Clara like friendship with her fiance™ Rex asked. “'Oh, she understands—she knows I'm not dangerous, that I don't think of men as men at all, but as minds. - It's com- | pantonship and understanding and liking I want. That's the big thing—the thing your personality gets—the other's only moonshine and balderdash.” “How do you know?' Rex asked. "I | might show you now—'Just a little love,’ he hummed ingratiatingly. And then the girl laughed with a clear ripple of humor that made sentiment about as possible as does a searchlight turned on the particular park bench you have been making for. "‘Oh, Reggie— imagine your getting sentimental over me—raving over my pink and white com- plexion for instance, when we both know 1 freckle worse than you do.” On a Thursday in May some one intro- duced her to Horace Easton. He took her out to dinner the following Monday night—for girls who belleve in platonic friendship are not prudishly conven- tional—they don't have to produce an atmosphere of being unattainable since they aren’t trying to be attained. Horace was brilllant and entertaining and listened politely wnen she aired her {theories on platonics—and as politely |changed the subject to a discussion of |his admiration for the beautiful Mrs. Thornley—and all beautiful women—and the type possessing gray eyes and clear |brunette coloring. And on parting he kissed her hand—and little prickles wan- dered up her arm to her ear which tin- #led strangely against a hot cheek. And she wondered If her eyes were as gray as Mrs. Thornley's—and examined them carefully in her mirror that night. On the following Monday Horace kissed her lips. In June, as much to his sur- prise as to hers, their engagement was announced, Horace had merely been out for conquest—but the girl who believed in platonic friendship was so lovable and loving that he couldn’t let her get out of his life to,be captured by any of that mase of fellows who lked her—and whom he thought ready to love her If she would let them. Which proves that it takes two to play at platonic friendship—and that it may be the only gume a girl knows until some iutrepid soul comes along and teaches her a better one. Also it teaches that an audacious kiss on the hand has its value eves that from the local of any other |ica’ By Gouvemeur Mol.ris | As he spoke, Mary Blackstone drove lup In an open car and called to him. and Tommy sprang forward with courteous Charles W. Goddard alacrity. And Carson murmured, “‘The bell he's been dlsinherited!"” Mary leaned from the car and spoke | in a low, thrilling voice, only audible to Oopyright, 1915, Star Company. Tommy; “Tommy, dear,” sho sald, “I'm so i Synopsis of Pevious Chapters. wretched. We've made such a mess of things! Can't we begin all over again?” Ames- 's greatest beauties, dies. At her death | ness: “We can't begin all over agaln,” ent_of the interests the 'beautiful 3-year-old baby girl and brings her up in a paradise where she sees no man, but thinks she is taught by angels who instruct Ler for her mission to reform the world, At the ege of 18 she s suddenly thrust into the | World where agents of the interests ars | ready to pretend to find her. The one to feel the loas of the little he said; “things can never be as they were. But we can be friends, Mary." tihe shook her head and the corners of her saouth turned bitterly down. You and I, Tommy,” she said, “might be almost anything in the world to each other—but friends? Never, You may drive kml. Stilliter, an Amesbury girl most, arter she had been | .. Rughy spirited away by the interests, ~was ‘ommy Barclay. 4 Tommy held out his hand, but she ATifteen 3 -'u,’,.}:kfil;rrung)“lge'“';’m}'; turned from it, as if in scorn, and the Dle for the trip. By accident he is the first [ motor slipped quietly forward. to meet the llmehArnelbur l|-f C‘:'fl'“: “H'm!" murmured Carson; “he has Somes fortn KO aa Reither Tommy nor | been diainherited. And he's Just told her. Colestia Tocoxnizes each other. Tommy | And she's given him the mitten.” matter Lo rescue Celestia & strong palisade which commanded the rallroad station and tihe approaches to the town by rail. Both belligerents main- tained u system of wsentries, and a genuine state of war existed. More than one striker had been given u public funeral; more than one strike-breaker had departed from Bitumen in a narrow box. . 80 much was clear, Less clear were the causes which had led to acutual viclence. It Is enough that they led to a demand for larger wages and shorter hours, which Kehr, representing the owners, and intrenching himself behind the state- ment that too many such demands had been acceeded to in the past, had per- emptorily, and in a manner not tended to conclilate, refused. A general strike had been called, strike breakers and special deputies had been called in, and there had been dynamiting and eudden death. The leaders were somewhat alike. Each had a supreme contempt and even hatred for the s which the other represented. Each wi strong-willed, stubborn man, ind. an eas ;l"l.l:‘ L. Stnl“-ll' and they hive In mountains; later they are pursued %lmfllurd l&d ucmm to an islgnd where | '3 ° A % :D'n ht, sfllh.l:r.lgfllll)‘:ll:n‘ hl: ln& reac . foun I;a Tommy, but did not disturb he morning Tominy goes for a :!"l: B ‘I‘I:I his absence Stiiliter to -ful Celestla, who runs to | clothes. Btilliter reaches Four Corners | With Celestia fust in time to catch an ex; for New York, there he places ccm in Bellevue hospital. where her nity is proven by the ' authorities. my reaches Bellevue just before Stil- liter's departure. 3 Tommy's first aim was to get Celestia away from Stiliter. After they leave Bellevue Tommy is unable to get any hotel to take Celestia in owing to her | costume. But later he persuades his father to keep her. When he goes out | to the taxi he finds her gone. She falls | into the hands of white slavers. but apas and woes to live with & poor fam- Do A Roea of Douslas. When thelr son Freddie returns home he finds right in his own house. Celestia, which the underworld has offe; ward that he hoped to get. Celestia secures work in a large gar- ment factory, where a great many girls are employed. Here she shows her pe- culiar power, and makes friends with all her girl companions. By her talks to the girls she is able to calm a threatoned | stri nd the “boss’ overhearing her is | moved to grant the relief the girla Wished, | and also to right a great wrong he had done one of them. Just at this point the | factory catches on fire, and the work room is soon a blazing furnace. Celestia refuses to escape with the other girls, | and Tommy Barclay rushes in and car- ries her out, wrapped in a big roll of cloth. After resculng Celestia from the fire, Tommy is sought by Hanker Barclay, who undertakes to persuade him give up the girl. Tommy refuses, and Celestia wants him to wed her dirscily. He can not do this, as he has no funde, Stilliter #nd Barclay Introduce Celestia to a co- | ferie of wealthy mining men. who agree to send Celestia to the colliirivs. EIGHTH EPISODE. “We'd about come to that conclusion | ourselves, sald “You looked Itke a last chance.” He was turning away petulantly when | he thought better of it. 1 a re- Carson. 'What are you going to do, Mi. Bar- clay, if it's manners 1o sk “I was going to ask your advice, uhll Tommy My wish is 1o start iifc as a! day laborer."” | “Sure? Then you'd better come out to Pennsylvania with us.” “But I want to earn a living. | ought | Dot to begin my carcer as a laborer by | striking for higher wages, ought 1? “We can find something better than etone breaking for a man of your educa- tion,” eaid Carson. “If you're om our am on your wide,” sald Tommy; “that is one of the reasons why [ have been disinherited.” having much power over other mem Neither was altrulstic. At the bmck of | Gunadorf's head lurked the idea that one day’ he, too, might be a capitalist who shoud employ labor. Kehr had every intention of one day employing more labor himself. Neither truly represented the cause for which he stod. Both were prepared to sacrifice any number of other people's lives for the betterment of their own. There was, however, this difference between them: men obeyed Gunedorf because they believed him to be a strong man of the people with the interosts of the people at heart; men obeyed Kehr because they had to. 8o Tommy felt about Gunsdorf when he heard the thick-set, trembling, passionate asgallant of privilege hold forth in the town hall, when he saw tears gush out of the man's eyes as he told of women and children who were going under be- cause there was no longer any bread in the house, and when he pretended that he could hear their cries and clapped his hands to his ears. Tommy had been introduced to the “brother” as a safe man, but when Gunsdorf began to advocate a midnight rush upon the stockade and massacre of all who might be found within, many eyes. were turned upon the silk-stocking |to see how he would take the sugges- tion. ““We willl put them,” thundered Guns- dorf, “where they shall never again no more hear the volces of women and chil- dren lifted in joy—or in sorrow. We will show the world what it s to tread upon the poor and the unfortunate, so that little children die of hunger. What do we claim? Only a fair share of what be- longs to us. What do we get? Crumbs and offal, chucked to us from the rich man’s kitchen door." There was & how! of rage, that must have been heard in the stokade and caused some of its defenders to tremble. When this had rumbled away and died to nothing like a péal of thunder, Guns- dorf rolled his little eyes upon Tommle. ‘“let us hear from the new brother,' he sald, smacking his lips. “Come up on the platform, Brother Barclay, and let the brothers and sisters see you.'" One of the sisters eyed Tommy very closely, as he slowly ascended the plat- form. Bhe was Mrs. Gunsdorf, a young, dark, heavy woman with smouldering eyes, and a scarlet mouth. When he turned and she had a good look at his handsome, brown, clean-cut face, her [deep bosom began to rise and fall rapidly. Tommy was in an awkward position. Tn full sympathy with his audience, he was not at all in sympathy with dyna- miting and murder. His education told him that though an attack upon the stockade might prove successful its ulti- mate offect upon the attackers would be retribution in an extreme degree. “It seems to me," he began quiety, “that what we want !a justice—not ven- geance. Have we—"' (To Be Continued Tomorrow.) swnasn s || The Rich and Poor Meet Round Shredded Whole Wheat The rich toiler unless from i cannot know that prevent clear thinking and quick act- ing. The richest man in the world can- not buy a food more nutritious than It contains more real body - buil ding nutri- ment than meat or eggs, Made only by The Shredded Wheat Company, is more easily digested and costs much less. The food for the man who does things with hand or brain. The ideal Summer diet for health and strength. Give your stomach a pleasant surprise after the heavy foods of Winter. Eat it for breakfast with milk or cream. Eat it for supper with ripe berries or other fresh fruits. the joys of the o ,to bstai