The Seattle Star Newspaper, May 1, 1919, Page 17

oa ze gt oe a “" J . Ee % vERETT TRUE Si DIDNT take Farmer Brown's | kept perfectly still. Farmer Brown Boy Wong to discover that White: | Genett, EVER HAVE A TOCTH PULLED ft just ‘To THO 1D OUT. irts— —_* By CONDO! ———————_-—____ DENTIST AND HAD ONG Ges, IT WAS A BAD ona. See Har Ge Cavir > ON THIS SIDE, Wh ¢ AND oo You S8G ‘THAT BLoop + CLOT 18 Awa. pet MUL BY THORNTON W. BURGESS (Copyright, 1919, b Scraping A the Wood Mouse was living in Bide sugar house. A litte Danderine pate the beanty Sf a He caught of Whitefoot peepi Farmer Brown's Boy ways of the little ‘s Boy delicious ; | 21,000,000 gallons. ep tlately your hair, how dull, faded, brit. , Just moisten a derine and carefully ir hair, taking one & time. The ef- your hatr will be Wavy, and have an abundance; an in- + softness and a Teen, atte * Knowl- @ few cents ne store or totlet counter Your hair is as pretty Sny—that it has been wurely il hair and lots of dust try @ little Dan- it ull my i %T. W. Burgess) cquaintance and Bowser the Hound went out. Of course, Whitefoot heard them go out and right away he poked his Iit- | tle head out from under the pile of wood to see if the way was clear. Farmer Brown's Boy sat there right in plain sight, but Whitefoot didn’t |see him. That was because Farmer | Brown's Boy didn't move the least bit. Whitefoot ran out and at once | began to eat those delicious crumbs. | When he had filled his little stom- ach he began to carry the remainder back to his little storehouse under Reath the woodpile. While he was gone On one Of these trips, Farmer Brown's Boy scattered some more | crumbs in a line that led right up to | his foot. Right there he placed a big piece of bread crust. Whitefoot was working so hard and fast to get all those delicious bits of food that he took no notice of anything else until he reached that piece of crust. Then he hap- pened to look up right into the eyes of Farmer Brown's Boy. With a frightened little squeak, Whitefoot darted back, and for a long time he was afraid to come out again. But Farmer Brown's Boy didn’t move, and at last Whitefoot could stand the temptation no longer. He darted out half way, scurried back, came out again, and at last ven- tured right up to the crust. Then he began to drag it back to the wood- pile. Still Farmer Brown's Boy did Whitefoot had lost all fear, He knew that Farmer Brown's Boy would not harm him, and it was not long before he ventured to take a bit ay food from Farmer Brown Boy’ After that Farmer Brown's Boy took care that no crumbs should be scattered on the ground, Whitefoot had to come to him for his food and always Farmer | Brown's Boy had something deli-| cious for him. Anxious, GAS SUBSTITUTE IS GIVEN TRIAL British Try Mixture of Ben- zol and Alcohol (Special to The Star by N. E. A.) LONDON, May 1—London is to) experiment on a large scale with the use of a mixture of alcohol and ben- zol as motor fuel. A London com- pany will operate 20 motor busses with the mixture and keep careful record of cost and service. British gas companies during the war were producing 11,000,000 gal- lons of benzol annually for motors, The producers have formed a nation- al association and propose to in- crease this output. By reducifg the standard of gas from 600 to 450, British thermal units, the output of benzol could be increased to 40,000,000 gallons annu- ally from the gas plants. In addl- tion to the production from gas, coke ovens during the war were making Basket Maker Now Expert on Language LONDON, May 1.—From traveling basket maker to greatest English authority on the Italian language and Italian art is the climb of Thomas Okey, who at 67 is made professor of Italian at Cambridge. Forty years ago Okey traveled thru France, Spain and Italy. In time he gave up his trade and became a teacher of languages. Two-Colored Dress Suits Reach London| LONDON, May 1—Men, they're h ‘The two-colored dress suits! ‘The coat is dark blue cloth with black silk lapels, Of course, they'll cross the pand, THE WEDLOCKED— Pal Hopes So. (Continued from Thursday.) K. found the note on the hail table when he got home that night, and carried it upstairs to read. What ever faint hope he might have had that her youth world prevent her ac ceptance ho knew now wag over. With the letter in his hand, he sat by his table and looked ahead into the empty years. Not quite empty, | of course, She would be coming | home. | But more and more the life of the | hospital would engross her. He sur: | mised, too, very shrewdly, that, had he ever had a hope that she might come to care for him, his very pres- ence in the little house militated against him, There was none of the Ulusion of separation; he was always | there, like Katie, W she opened the door, she called, “Mother” from the hall. If Anna did not answer, she called him, in much the same voice. He had built a wall of philosophy | that had withstood even Wilson's recognition and protest. But endur: | ing philosophy comes only with time; and he was young. Now and then all his defenses crumbled before a | passion that, when he dared to face it, shook him by its very strength And that day all his stoiciem went) down before Sidney's letter. Its very | frankness and affection hurt—not) that he did not want her affection; but he craved so much tnore. He threw himself face down on the bed, with the paper crushed in his hand. Sidney’s letter was not the only one he received that day. When, in response to Katie's summons, he rose heavily and prepared for dinner, he found an unopened envelope on the table, It was from Max Wilson; “Dear Le Moyne—-I have been go- ing around in a sort of haze all day. ‘The fact that I only heard your voice and scarcely saw you last night has made the whole thing even more un- real. “I have a feeling of delicacy about trying to see you again so soon. I'm bound to respect your seclusion. But there are some things that have got to be discussed. “You said last night that things were ‘different’ with you. I know about that. You'd had one or two unlucky accidents. Do you know/ any man in our profession who has not? And, for fear you think I do not know what I am talking about, | the thing was threshed out at the State society when the question of the et came up. Old Barnes got up and said, ‘Gentlemen, all of us live more or less in glass houses, Let him who ts without guilt among us throw the first stone!’ By George! You should have heard them! “T didn't sleep last night. I took my little car and drove around the | country roads, and the farther I went the more outrageous your posi- tion became. I’m not going to write any rot about the world needing snen like you, altho {t's true enough, But our profession does, You working tn a gas office, while old O'Hara bun- gles and hacks, and I struggle along on what T learned from you! “It takes courage to step down from the pinnacle you stood on, 80 it's not cowardice that has set you down here, It’s wrong conception. And I've thought of two things. The first, and best, is for you to go back. No one has taken your place, be cause no one could do the work. But | if that’s out of the question—and only you know that, for only you SEATTLE know the facts—the next best thing STAR—THURSDAY, MAY 1, 1919. PAGE 17 GONNA KEEP CHICKENS THIS the suggestion. “Take the state exams under your Present name, and when you've got your certificate, come in with me. This ian't magnanimity. I'll be get- ting a damn «ight more than I give. “Think it over, old man. It fs @ curious fact that a man who is absolutely untrustworthy about women i# often the soul of honor to other men. The younger Wilson, tak ing his pleasures lightly and not too discrtminatingly, was making an offer that meant his ultimate eclipse, and doing it cheerfully, with his eyes open. K. was moved, It waa like Max to h an offer, like him to do it e asking a favor and not conferring one. But the offer left him untempted. He had weighed himself in the balance, and found himself wanting. No tablet on the In either case, he could only wait and watch, eating his heart out dur ing the ng evenings when Anna read her “Daily Thoughts” upste and he sat alone with his pipe on balcony. Sidney went on night duty shortly after her acceptance. All of her or: derly young into two parts: day, when one played | or worked, and night, when one siopt. Now she was compelled to a readjustment: one worked In night and slept in the day, Things |seomed unnatural, chaotic. At the! ond of her first night report Sidney | added what she could remember of a | Hlittle verse of . Stevenson's. | | added it to the end of her general re | port, which was to the, effect that! everything had been quiet during the night except the neighborhood. | | And does it not neem hard to you. | When all the sky is clear and blue. And should like #0 much to play, | To have to go to bed by day? | ‘The day assistant happened on the | report, and was quite scandalized. | “If the night nurses are to | their time making up poetr; lnaid, crossly, “we'd better change | thin hospital into a young ladies’ seminary. If she wants to complain |about the noise in the street, she should do #0 in proper form.” “I don’t think ahe made it up,” the Head, trying not to mile. “I've | WHAT DO To 00— ‘ou “WANT POISON MY CHICKENS ? Hon, | ALWAYS Thouswr} OH,\ov'D Thine WE WAS A MiLLioN- John MeCormic tle Monday evening, May 26. Ladies’ Musical club, local management he ing capacity for 5,000 people. Me cer She | He served aw a singing soldier at the had received his request of President Wilson. “No man can hate Germany as I ut of the war,” MeCor ‘and no man can believe | the Arena do and sta mack sa }as I do in hard fighting and in ev erybody’s fighting, and not want to| week, from 10 a. m. to mick gave $600,000 to the} | Te ‘ross from receipts of his con-| has become an American citizen, but | after America entered the war. | all his war work was done before he ‘America’s “Singing Soldier” Coming to Seattle May 26. K, often character-| would far rather have you as a sing- ized the most popular singer in the! er life had been divided world, is scheduled to wing in Sea We can’t all do the same thing, |and some one must keep the foun- The | tains of sentiment flowing.’ So that under whose will appear, | the | has engaged the Arena, with its seat'| music in the world ceased to exist, was how I enlisted. Until the war was over I did not care if all the if I had left the patriotic songs.” Since the armistice, McCormack final papers of | American citizenship. Seat reservations for the public will be opened at the bex office of Monday morning, May sale continuing for one 5 p. m. daily. 19th, the hit where he could hit the hardest. | There will be no local ‘rail orders. I could have | War measure to be willing to aban-) | “ |Gon it, if T could be of real help at| that. “Bo dent Wilson fered I took my pre I tol myself unreservedly, gone to @ recruiting | | station and entisted as a private, but [1 believed in music too much as a m to Presi him that I of- that I | would serve wherever I was placed but that I did not think that music |Huns Plan Mail Service by Plane BERLIN, May 1.—Warnemuende is picked as the starting point for jerman oversea traffic by plane. It is also to be a terminal for passen- ger traffic and post from Scandi- navian countries. Air post already 4 & non-essential, and that if [| carried on between Berlin, Weimar could serve in that depar’-nent, 1| and Leipzig is to be extended to in- OLD BANDIT NOW HERO OF BATTLE Australian’ Bush Ranger Re- turns to Ask Immunity (Special to The Star by N. EB. A) SYDNEY, Australia. May 1—Dan Kelley, bushranger, claims immunity from punishment’ for his lawless |deeds. Kelley was believed to have |been killed years ago, when his gang was rounded up in a shanty on the |border of Victoria and New South Wales, But he has turned up at Mo long and says he escaped to India, fought in the South African war un- |der another name, and has by his | service paid for his misdeeds, Dan and his brother Ned and two other desperadoes terrorized the bor- der land for years. Ned wore a suit of home-made armor and was known |as the ironclad bushranger. He was | wounded, captured, tried, convicted and hanged. | a BIG OIL, TANK BUIL?P LONDON, May 1—Sixty million gallons! That's the capacity of the reservoir being built at Rosyth for college wall could change that. And| heard something like it somewhere. | V oui give myself as thoroly and| clude Warnemuende, Hanover, West: | storage of fuel for British warships. when, late that night, Wilson found him on the balcony and added appeal to argument, the situation remained unchanged, He realized its hopeless news when K. lapsed into whimsical humor. “I'm not absolutely useless where I am, you know, Max,” he said. “‘I've raised three tomato planta and a family of kittens this summer, helped to plan @ trousseau, assisted in se lecting wall paper for the room just inside—did you notice it?—and devel oped « boy pitcher with @ ball that twists around the bat like a Colles fracture around a splint!” “If you're going to be htrnor- ous—" “My dear fellow,” said K., quietiy, “if I had no sense of humor, I should £0 upstairs tonight, turn’on the gas, and make a stertorous entrance into eternity. By the way, that’s some thing I forgot!" “Eternity?” . Among my other activities, I wired the parlor for electric lights. The bride-to-be expects some electro- Miers as wedding gifts, and—" Wilson rose and flung his eigaret into the grass. “I wish to God I understood you!” he said, irritably. K. rose with him, and all the sup- pressed feeling of the interview was crowded into his last few words, “I'm not as ungrateful as you think, Max,” he said, “I—you've helped a lot. Don't worry about me, I'm as well off as I deserve to be, Good night.” “Good night.” Wilson's unexpected magnanimity put K. in @ curious position—left him, as it were, with a divided al- legiance. Sidney's frank infatuation for the young surgeon was growing. He wan quick to see it! And where before he might have felt justified in going to the length of warning her, now his hands were tied, Max was interested in her. K. could see that, too, More than once he had taken Sidney back to the how pital in his car. Le Moyne, handi- capped at every turn, found himself facing two alternatives, one but Lit- tle better than the other, The affair might run 4@ legitimate course, end- ing in marriage—a year of happiness for her, and then what marriage with Max, as he knew him, would tn evitably mean: wanderings away, re- morseful returns to her, infidelities, | misery. Or, it might be less serious but almost equally unhappy for her. Max might throw caution to the winds, pursue her for a time—K. had seen him do this—and then, growing land, what with the heat and the | noise of traffic, I don't see how any | | of them get any sleep.” | But, because discipline must be ob- | served, she wrote on the slip the as sistant carried around; “Please sub- | mit night reports in prose.” | Sidney did not sleep much, She |tumbled into her low bed at nine Jo'clock in the morning, those days, | with her splendid hair neatly braided | down her back and her prayers said, }and immediately her active young mind filled with images—Christine’s | | wedding, Dr. Max passing the door jot her old ward and she not there, Joe—even Tillie, whose story was now the sensation of the Street. A few months before she would not) have cared to think of Tillle. She would have retired her into the land of things-one-must-forget. But the Street’k conventions were not hold- ing Sidney's thoughts now. She puz- zled over Tillie a great deal, and over Grace and her kind. On her first night on duty, a girl had been brought in from the Ave- nue, She had taken a poison—no- body knew just what. When the in- ternes had tried to find out, she had only said; “What's the use?” And she had died. (Continued Friday.) Potted Huns With Guns, Now He Aids Victory War Loan Lieut. 8. L, Metoalf, recently of the seventh service pattallon,; East Yorkshire regiment, found {it a pleasure to shoot Germans, and 1s equally elated over the porspect ih equally elated over the prospect as one of the speakers for the Vic- tory Liberty loan, Lieut. Metcalf says that German atrocities have not been half represented, and he is going to do all he can to help put over Uncle Sam's last drive, as a ns of preventing further cruelty from the Hun barbarians, Lieut. Metcalf is an American and was living at St. Paul when he decided to join the Canadians in the fray, in 1914. He fought at Ypres, Vimy Ridge, Arras and Gommecourt, After serving in a machine gun company for @ yoar at the front, he was detailed to in- |telligence and sniping duty for three years, During his first weet }as a sniper he picked off seven Fritzes, three of whom were of- ficers. He received a medical discharge from the British army a manth ig this, and in all humility I make ured, change to some new attraction, aga unreservedly as any — soldier France. And the president » in| phalia, Breslau and the Rhineland in ‘L April. | It will cover 11 acres and a roof area. of seven acres.