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; The Evening — Oe World Daily Magazine, Wednesday, January 3, “The Grain of Dust” Dry Business “EY CHARLES DARNTON. 46 Tove too d—— much talk and not enough being said,” remarked the ‘ Peevish millionaire, “I'm pretty rotten," admitted James K. Hackett, un lawyer who lived only for his stenographer and was down dollar bill. __ Ahd only an ingrate could refuse to accept these frank statements aa a con- cleely accurate criticism of the play and the acting at the Criterion ‘Theatre They came at a time when “The Grain of Dust” had reduced itself to pretty pty, business; came as @ godsend, even, to a worn and weary spirit. For I must) confess that the play manufactured by Louis Evan Shipman from the novel by David Graham Phillips made me very, very tired. I say this in no slangy sense, but as @ truthful record of a physical fact. Four long acts devoted to polysyiable talk about office affairs and an office stenographer seemed more | lke a day's work than an evening's | play. It was dismally apparent that Mr. Shipman had not allowed drama to | Interfere with business, | Under the circumstances {t would | have been much better for Mr. Hackett | to settle down to business than to roll! his eyes to heaven and gaze rapturously at his starchy-looking typewriter as aa the corpora- to his last five- though she were an angel in a shirt- waist, It was rather difficult to under- should be compared to of dust that had got into the lawyer's eyo when sho resembled most of all a lump of starch, And for that matter any one could see there wasn't anything in Mr. Hackett's Both his eyes, in fact, were in such good working order that they might have be- longed to a romantic actor of the school wie, Hackett as Frederick Norman. that closed long, long ago. ‘we corporation lawyer haa his uses on the stage in days of supposedly @tamatic “deals,” but he cannot reasonably be expected to shine as a hero. There was never any evidence, however, that Mr, Hackett shared this view. Ag. Frederick Norman he raised his voice, brought down hie fist, curled his lip, and decla!med with elocutionary fervor that would have done credit to W. J. Fan. He was obviously proud of his dazzling success as @ lawyer. A $20,000 letter of credit went one way and the daughter of a millionaire went the other. He broke off his engagement with her, so we were led to belleve, with a letter | that was a legal masterstroke, The threats of her righteously indignant father to put @ crimp in his brilliant career didn't worry him a little bit. When he told his stenographer that he loved her and she informed him that she couldn't return the compliment he merely smiled, not sadly but indulgently, and an- nounced. he would make her love him. Love, he explained, was purely a matter of the imagination. That he had a won- derful imagination was proved by the fact that he couid adore Dorothy. ‘And marriage didn’t tmprove her, We saw her again after eighteen months, only to realize that sho had been keep- ing her affections in cold storage all “that time, When the hard-up husband ‘was told the iceman had cut him off his calling list he didn’t seem to mind “k bit. With Dorothy and % in his pocket, he could 1 to laugh at the teem: He may » noticed that his * Welte was getting coid tet, but he had no idea she was thinking .¢ leaving him now that he was “broke.” And, any- way, this wasn’t her reason for clearing olt, She needed air. She couldn't stand the stuffy old house any longer. It aeemed odd that she should go away just ‘as'a $10,000 retainer had been put in her tzetta Jewel ae Dorothy Hallowell. Niiisband's way by his old friend Billy = ‘omen are strange creatures and they do strange things. ernie ey hard blow to Norman, He was eo knocked out that it was all he contd do to pull himself together and smash the old millionaire who had downed fim. But he did it, and though at first he set his lips very hard nat 8 plea for mercy, he finally gave in and allowed his beaten enemy to live, Norman was beginning to feel loss bitter toward the world, for Dorothy had como back— ‘ae they all do in the last act. And, like the wife in “Bought and Paid For, she had learned to love him during her absence, The air had done her « tot of good. It may be sufficient to add that ‘the grain of dust" as played by Mies Izetta Jewel was rather gritty and a trifle irritating. As the flancee who got her ‘walking papers, Mise Pauline Neff—known in medical circles ae the wife of Dr. Munyon—was far more attractive, The best work was done by H. M. Holland, ‘as Norman's friend Billy, though it must be confessed that he acted as he has Hevpr acted before—with absurd grimaces and grotesque gestures, He pearetd to have adopted the exaggerated methods of Mr. Hackett. But it ts barely pos: sivle that he performed these antios to distract attention from the feeble old to get off. tech lly wal an ot ereas humor in Mr, Shipman’s voluble play. The dra- matic weakness of the play 1s disguised in a measure by the physical strength that Mr, Hackett puts into {t, but there's no denying that this able-bodied actor makes an artistic mistake by working too hard. e Papers Sav Th By john tLe Hobble Copyright, 1912, by The Press Publishing Co, (The New York World), | the Counctt at Hunnewell, Kan., trip to New York recently so they are fair samples of average could better appreciate their own men, deleve us, we are for States. untversal suffrage. | The Russian vote is hardly strong |aittle girls as long as you can. @hould you use her given name or that Tt ta argued, now, that meat con-|enough to cause any of our politicians ‘ gumeres be permitted to serve in the to espouse the cause of Rui S’Matter, Pop? 3% -: £ Biren Pinilateg Oe, few York World), here! Didn’t | tell you not but what “Seq “y, (Juvenile Joshes Bd By C. M. Payne saved of Ben | come t (Copgright, 1911, the Outing Publishing Compan) sorher for stay fs bitten by 0 rm eats, by the ahi Radford, « nelghboring for the material for eon falls in ny Settont's range ee Bate argent |, forces that there. Is tacit swat {ele Corsuanget Vaoriatt of having the rastilog’ Hor manage te itt apiclona without rt eocusing ther at lord hoves ¥i ‘erst fom, a hilltop Mary and to smoke cigarettes?” a feller ter do, when he can’t afford cigars?” Copmright, 19) by The Press Publtshing Oo, (The New York World.) Bd By J. K. Bryans ra “8h—h—! “Oh, Willie! Don't You're emoking one of pa; y @ word, Sis, an’ I'll let you have de 's Christmas cigars!” ute” When She Is Too Young. IRLS, don't love affairs when you ere too young. I have had one or two letters from youngstera. who suid they were fourteen and were “in love’ with some boy @ year or two older, That ’ is quite ridiculous. Girls of fourteen are perhaps getting too old for dolls, but school and skating hould absorb all thelr energies. Forced notions, lke forced roses, quickly wither and are never so beautiful as naturally grown products, You have to grow up soon enough. Boe There will be time enough for the love stories by-and-by, She Popular Frm. A man who signs himself “P, writes: “In adressing a letter to a widow D." of her, deceased husband? Use her husband's name. A iri who herself writes: “My flance seems indifferent. How can gn op, BY ame 1 make him more interested in me?" Try to cultivate an interest in him and his likes and disitkes, A man who eigns himself “K. C." writes: “T met a girl at ty and want to take her out some evening. Would it be proper?" It would be quite proper to write her a Ittle note and ask her !f she would go out with you on some @ecified oc- casion. who signs K." A girt herself writes: “Would it be proper to ask a young man to call on me, or should be request permission to do so?” He should request permission, No Jewelry. A girl who signa hersolf writes “Is It proper to @ pt a sot of pins from a young man who hae called on} Te a few times?” | No, you should not accept gifts of |, Jewelry from young men acquaintances. | A girl who signs herself “B. G." writes: “I became engaged to a young man at Christmas, but he says we must walt @ long engagements. more than two years. A man who signs wrt himself with me, my engagement? No, indeed. marry your flancee, not her fasily. A girl who signs hereelf writes; Mt. me regularly, (ut I ‘have not seen him eince. I do?” Ste he wrote you that ho was (ll, ‘Then you must await developments, writes: with me. What shall I do about it?" A girl who signs herself writes: faw years before marrying. Do you think this wise?” to Kise?” Generally speaking, I don't approve of | Certainly, if you are engaged, trial of the Beef Barons, as they Would naturally de prejudiced against the trust. “Hunger forces a burglar to sur- render to the police.” When the burglars of New York can not find enviigh to eat, it doesn't speak well for the high cost of living. DEuucutep A man wants to die because he hag lost his memory. Those who | forget are the only ones who have anything to live for. The most substantial aryunment in favor of the popular election of United States Senators is opposition of said senators. ‘A good housekeeper is one who can prevent the Thanksgiving Turkey from colliding with the Christmas | Duck But still, if the Congressmen should give us all the laws they have promised, wouldn't they suffer | the effects of having outlived their usafulngss. « Beveral Wegtern Governors made @ “ou Humans SERVANT, Miss —— atte brectenntn MEATS I TI BCE EEO I OUT TAKING CARE MY PROPERTY — OF PROPERTN ¢, ee aa i g Ves, I'm PooR WEALTH — JusT WORN GOLD MINES Too much AFTER+ OH DEAR! You See, FATHER LEFT Me $85,000,000, AND The BRAZILIAN COFFE RAMIMNOHS S THOSE AD | 4 feels AND ITS Just : FOR A POOR UTNE JA UHMARRIED GIRL TO LOOK - ‘Try not to make it “J, @." “The sister of my Mancee is angry Is that @ cause for breaking Remember that you will “A young man has been calling on two weeks ago he wrote that he was not feeling well and What ehall would be quite proper to wend a little note hoping that he {s feeling better, A «irl who signe herself “NW. J." “I am in Jove with a girl of #txteen, mut her mother objects to her going out Gince your friend is so young I think you @hould respect her mother’s wishes, “AM” ‘Ten't it right for a young couple who are very much in love with each other A man who signs himsolf “B. K." writes: “Every evening I eee a young lady whom I wish very much to meet, but I have sought in vain for a mutual friend, What shall I dot’ I am afraid you must continue your search, ae you can't speak to the young lady without en introduction. SA atet “L, oO." writes: “What would be a nice present to take to the birthday party of @ boy of six- teen?” Why not take him something con- Rected with his fayorite sport? A_book about baseball heroes, for exaniple. who signs heresit it A girl who atgns hersetf “M. Mf.” writes: “Lam thirty-four and a young man of twenty-six wants to marry me, Do you think 1t would be wise?” Frankly, I think such @ marriage \s not Ikely to succeed, Remember, you will be fifty when he ta only forty- two, A girl who etgna herself write: “I am always quarreling with the young man who pays me attentioi and my parents object to hi What would you advise me to Jo?” I think you would probably be hap- pier if you aent him away, CHAPTER XIX. (Continued) The Shot in the Dark. 6 OU may deceive people by making @ mask of your face, but the eyes are the windows of the soul and through them peo- Die will see your searet. Ben hadn't eaten much, she decided, aa eho seated herself at tab fter pouring ® cup of tea. Before ehe had Gnished her meat she hed begun to wonder over hie ebsenceit was not hia custom to go away tn the night, @he thought he might have gone to the corral, or might even be engaged in some small task in the stable. 80 after completing her meal she rose and went to the door, looking out. ‘There was no moon, only the star- | Meht, but in thie ehe was able to die Unguish objecta in the clearing, and if Hen had been working about anywhere she must have noticed him. She re- turned to the table and eat there long, Dondering. Then she arose, heated some water and washed and dried the Gehes, Then she swept the kitchen floer an tidied things up @ bit, returning to ¢ door when all wae complete. signe that Ben was eny- the vicinity, She opened the @oreen door and went out upon the porch, leaning againet une of the slen- Ger posts, For-e long time ehe atood thua, Iatening to the indescribable noises of the night. ‘Thie was only the eecend time sin @he had been with Ben that had left her alone at night, and a alight chill atole over her as ahe watched the dense shadows beyond the clearing, shadows that seemed euddenly dismal and foreboding. She had loved the ailence, but now suddenly it seemed too deep, too solemn to be real. She shuddered and with eome unac- countable impulse shrank against the acreen door, one hand upon ft, ready to throw it open. In this position she stood for a few mi anf then from @omewhere in the flat came ao alight sound—and@ then, after a short interval, another, She ehrank back again, a swédgn fear chilling hee, her hands clasped over her breast. “Gome one te shooting,” she eaid aloud. She waited long for « repetition of th But 414 not hear them again, Tremblingty she returned to th cabin and resumed her chair at the table, fighting against a growing pre- sentiment that something had gone wrong with Ren. Hut she could not have told from what direction the sounds had come, and #0 1t would have been folly for her to ride out to Investigate, And so for an hour she sat at the table, oringing away from the sfence, starting at intervals, when her imagination tricked her into the be- Met that sound had begun. And then presently she became aware was sound. In the vast si- lence beyond the cabin door something had moved. She was on her feet tn- stantly, her senses alert. Hor foar had left her, Her taco was pale, but her Ups closed grimly as she went to the rack behind the door and took down a rifle that Ben alwaye kept there. Then she turned the lamp low end cautiously stepped to the door. A pony whinnied, standing with cars erect at the edge of the porch, In a crumpled heap on the ground lay a man. She caught her breath sharply, but in the next inestan' out and bending over him. With a a@trength that seemed almost beyond her she dragged the lump form to the door where the ight from the lamp shone upon it “Ben @ sald eharply. “What has happened?’ She shook him lightly, calling again to him. Aroused, he opened hie eyes, recog- mised her, and raised himself painfully upon one elbow, smiling weakly. “tt ain't anything, ats," he gatd. “Creased im the back of the head. Knocked me oold, Mebbe my shoul te: too—I ain't been able to itft my ann.” WHAT LEAP YEAR LIZZIE 3% (Ain’t She Bizzy?) 3% (ane) 0” MadoRs How! Courd 3% By Dwig DARN (T! (> HAD Him Mm anoTHER SECONDS | bwenty calves, 1912 The Two-Gun Man The Best Cowboy Story in Ten Years By Charles Alden Seltzer utd eharply. And hie ayes closed: “The sneak.” She swayed Gisaily and came very near dropping him to the porch floor. But no sound came trom her, ant presentiy when the dizriness had passed, she dragged him to the door, propped it open with a chair, and then dragged him on through the opening to the kitchen, and from there to one of the adjoining rooms, Then with pale face and determined Mps whe set about the work of taking care of Ben's wounds. The spot on the hack of the he ¢ found, was a mere abrasion, a had anid. But shoulder had been she discovered, passed through the fleshy part of the should: after breaking one of the amatier boi Getting her scissors she clipped away the hair from the back of his head and sponged the wound and bandaged jt. convinced that of {teeif It was not dan- gerous, Then she undressed him, and by the ume of plenty of clear, coll water, @ sponge and some bandages stopped the flow of blood in his shoulder and placed him in a com- fortable position. He had very little fever, but moved rapidly around him, taking his temperature, administering sedative when he showed signa of restlessness. hovering over him constantly until ¢ to eome. thie he went off inte a Peacefirt sleep, and, almost exhausted with her efforts and the excitemen:, she threw herself upon the floor deaide his bed, sacrificing her own comfort that she might be near to watch shoul! he need her. It waa tate in the after- noon when Radford opened his eyes to look out through the door that con- nected hie room with the kitchen end eaw his eister busying herself with the very little pain. For a long time he lay. quietly watching her, while his though: s Went back to the meeting on the trail with Fergueon. Why hadn't he carrie! out his original intention of shooting the stray-man down from anrvush? He had Goubted Leviatt's wont and had hesl- tated, wishing to give Ferguson the deneft of the doubt. and had received his reward in the snape of @ bullet tn the back—after practically a peace pact with his intended victim. He presently became aware that his Sister was standing near na ldoked up and emiled at her. Qn instant she wes kneeling beside Alm, edmonishing him to ment over the turm things had taken. ‘Therefore he was not surprised w: after ahe hed attended te all his w she sank on her knees beside him, “Ben,” she said, trying to keep a quiver out of her voice, “are you sure it was Ferguson who shot you He patted her hand tenderly ayn pathetically with his uninjured one. “I'm sorry for you, Mary,” he return- of, “but there ain't any doubt about Then he told hep of the warning he had received frem Leviatt, and when he @aw her itps curl at the mention of the Two Diamond range boss's name he amiled. “I thought the same thing that you are thinking, Mary," he said. “And [ @idn't want to shoot Ferguson. But things have turned out I wouldn't have been much wrong to have done She raised her head from the cover- let. “Did you see him before he shot yout" she questioned eageriy. ‘Just a lte before,” he returned. “I met him at a turn in the traf! about half a mile from here. down off his hor We had a talk, shoot him until I was eure, and he talked eo olever that I taought was telling the truth. But he wasn't. He told about Ferguson's con- how they had stood face h death between them, con- studing: “By that time I had decided not to shoot him. But he didn’t have she nerve to pull tho trigger when he was looking at me. He waited until T'4 got my horse and was riding away, ‘Then he sneaked up behind.” He saw her body shiver, and he ca- ressed her hair slowly, telling her that ho was sorry things had turned out « stray-man to @ atrict accounting—pro- viding the latter didin’t eave the country before, But he eaw that Me words had given her little comfort, for when an hour er wo Inter he dropped off to sleep the | thing he saw was her seated at the table tn the kitchen, her head bowed In her hands, crying soft! “Poor Mtle kid," he said, aa sleep dimmed ha eyes; “It looks as though | thia would be the end of her story.” CHAPTER XX. | Love and a Rifle. GUSON did not visit Miss Afonl the next morning—ne sad seen Leviatt and Tucson depart from the ranch-house, had observed the ‘rection they took and bed follows hem, Wor twenty miles he had « |them tn sight, watehing them with @ ‘stern patience that had brought its re- ward. | They b n twenty miles straight | down ex when Ferguson, cons ceaied behind « ridge, saw them « jeon- qd jo basin, Then he cirefed the rim of hills that surrounded the basin and, Mismounting — fr bis pony, crept through a # oak thicket to a point ould look directly down upoa whore he vw . ever before stumbled upon ‘the hiv Was not remarkable, for situ sit was, in this litte basin, nid- sight by @ serried Ine of hills kes among which no cowpuncher to travel—nor cared to—the vas a8 safe from prying eves as ssible for @ human habitation fire was @ small corral near the abin, in which there were several steers, half a dozen cows and perhaps As Ferguson's eyes took 1], they glistened with en the wildest atretom. could produce twenty! @ dozen cown, er MS