The evening world. Newspaper, September 1, 1917, Page 9

3 ) iy) } ) ( GBNT Wave \ KINDA oun! ~ Pauline Furlong’s Daily Article on Beauty and Health Copyright, 1017, by the Pres Publishing Oo, (The New York Wrening World), Hair C C Henn the ends of the ’ ficially colored por' Frat of all try and@“externally by massage and carefu If all else fails, use any of the simp which will bleach the hair yellow, )} UOING CONCRETE | FoR EVERYTIME | | (Goustars _S J OVER PREPARE OEE A YEAR Y “Ss 6 he LAST UME FLL A LUNCH! iTS A GING To oloring HANGING the color of the hair is always a risky and many times @ dangerous business, because it ts dificult to get the dye ov evenly, and many of the dyes contain lead, which is poisonous to @ large number of persons, hair before it is dry and cause a streaked appearance and different color on the ends. ‘Then, too, when the new hair grows in at the roots it 1s always an eutirely different color from the arti- ‘tion of the hair, to restore the natural oolor of your ‘ SEE air by internal treatments for the blood and nerves, 1 brushing and shampooing, and then, le and harmless colorings mentioned above. Constant use of peroxide will eventually destroy the texture of the hair and cause it to become dry and lifeless, It is the only thing nd it is a good plan to avold the use of it entirely. Walnut stain and sage slightly darken graying hair; both are yéegetable and entirely harmless, but, as they are merely stains and not dyes, they, too, are not always satisfactory, .. I-would not care to give to readers chemical dye formulas which contain Dolson ingredients, and while many of them do not cause trouble, those which do so are largely in the majority. An ‘entirely new formula for redi Place an o”~ce of henna leaves in a j ight. Then strain and heat again puna powder (first dissolved in wa into clean hair. entirely harmlcss. dening graying hair {s given today: jar with a quart of boiling water over to boiling point. Add two ounces of ter), Stir and strain again. Brush ‘This is effective and easy to apply, also cheap and Answers to Beauty and Health Questions. DRY SHAMPOO FOR BLOND HAIR—MRS. W. L. N.: Oris root (powdered), one ounce; corn meal, twe ounces, Shake this into the hair and tie it up for several hours, Then brush out thoroughly. This does not fleanse the scalp and should only be used in cases of emergency. LARGE ABDOMEN—aIRs. G. HL: You will have to work hard to reduce the large abdomen. Bend and touch the floor with tho finger tips at least twenty-five times at intervals during the day. Keop the knees rigid. Lic on the floor, brace the feet under a piece of furniture. Raise the teay’es upright sitting position, Do hig ten times a day. EPILEPTIC FITS—RALPH G.: Constipation and retained waste mat- ter in the system are often the cause thene seizures. Everything should be done to overcome this condition or olae relief cannot be had, Warm water injgttions, night and morning, continued for several months will also help you. Rest is also essential. LD CREAM FOR WRINKLES— F.D, C.: Melt the following over warm (not hot) water, in a double boiler: Wihite wax, one half Time Savers for the Busy Woman By Andre Dupont _ ounce; spermaceti, one-half ounce; lanolin, one-half ounce; cocoanut oll, one ounce. Remove from the heat and add two bunces of sweet almond oil very slowly, whipping with a clean silver fork or ivory spoon meanwhile, Then when it starts to cream add drop by drop ten drops of tincture benzoin and ounce of rose water. Heat until thick. Never let cold cream get more than lukewarm while heating. ACNE PITS AND COARSE PORES —MRS. H. F.; Yes, face peeling will remove these and bring the skin to norma]. Be sure and have this done by competent operator. TO MRB. W. F. I advise sample Your hair would, doubtless, CALLOUS SPOTS—MRS. G. F. D.: Bathe the feet dally in warm water and common baking soda. Then rub the spots with mutton tallow, Pres- sure causes callous spots, and this must be removed before permanent relief can be had, FRENCH HEELS— MARGARET : French heels, though we all wear thom, are most certainly injurious, as they throw the wetght of the body all out of dts rightful place, ‘They are designed for appearance and not for comfort or health, Dish Washing Points 'N even such a simple everyday thing as washing dishes there js an easy way and a hard way, a ‘way to waste timo and a y to Baye it. Take, for instance, the Kitghen utensils, the pots'and pans in Which the food is cooked, These are the most difficult of all dishes to ‘wash properly, as the food sticks so to the sides, and most women hate this work, But that is because they @0 not know how to make it easy for themselves, Just as soon as the vegetable, or soup, or potatoes, or cereal, &c., has been put into the dish in which It is to be strved the saucepan in which ooked should be scraped out ightly with a spoon and the hot ater faucet turned into the pan an Nght sprinkling of some sort of powder or prepared cleanser kes in, Let all such pans stand ‘ta_one end of the sink, one in the ie if they take up too much room, ‘beaters should never be left after B, but rinsed immediately with hot water when they will be found tem times easier to wash than If they are left with the rest of the dishes: fo keep {t in good condition the r part of an egg beater should aver be wet. order in which the dighes are washed has a great deal to do with the wearin: of the task. Why not make ‘burden lighter by attacking _the hardest and most repuisive things first? Pile up the dishes after they have been well scraped and put all the silver together in any large Plate or platter that has been used. Put all the food away, remove the table cloth, fold and put away with the napkins, and place on the table the runners or centrepiece or cloth ‘ou use between meals and then, « cleared up everything behind you, begin upon the pots and pans. {As these have been soaking in hot water, soap or cleanser, while you have been eating, most of them will require only a rubbing with one of those rough pot cleaners in the form of @mit that looks as !f it was made of strips of tinsel, If the bottom of the enamelware saucepan {s smutty wipe It off with gritty cleanser or rub with sapolio, ‘Sometimes a fry- ing pan will contain a sticky, hard- at is very difficult rubbing cold ened substance t to re it, but move. Don't waste tim half fill the pan with ond sprinkle tn a tablesy washing powder and let it on the top of the stove, we ful of mer This will take care of itself while the rest of the dishes are being washed, when it will only need a thorough rinsing and wiping dry. Never use dish towels for wiping pots and pans, Have special cloths for them, either coarse or soft cloths cut from old thin cotton, old under- shirts that have ‘been washed and boiled. These are excellent, as they do the work quickly, When the kitchen utensils are out of the way, wash the silver and then the china, and you will find your work goes more quickly with less fatigue than usual, If It Wasn't for Picnics We'd Never Appreciate Home! er, 1FET we Ge Pree Peete Ge ie Bee fet free ew That Every Man Here Is the Answer to the Question Answer That All Women Wortler About Asks Himself, an it, the Robhe- Merril! Oo.) (Ooprrigh' SYNOPSIB OF PREC lair, @ gucceastul Alfred Bi young business ma Calis, ha wile, Who bad married bun frankly for peroxide, sage and walnut stain are not | who since has come to love G@angerous hair colorings to use, but all are often un- pl iy satisfactory, owing to the fact that they run down to si te sree tes incense ily rab fiat, Bie CHAPTER IX. (Continued.) HAT the young man did was to blush to the hair, smile rather {diotically, he de- cided afterward, and ex- perience a momentary twinge of the livellest envy of the unknown man who was going to share the little three-room apartment and its ninety- four-dollar furnishings with her, “{'1 tell you something,” he eald very unofficlally—confidentially . al- most. In fact, he had ceased alto- gether to be the perfect salesman, and had become instead a man and @ brother, “f never can get my mother to ‘buy any of her kitchen things up here, She gets them gil—pots and pans ard such, you know, at the five and ten cent store, She says the things wear out, of course, but that when they do you can always afford to buy new ones because you paid so little in the first place.” “Why, that's wonderful,” said Cella, “I never thought of that. I'm very, | very much obliged.” | @he felt like shaking hands with dim, and so, indeed, did he with her. But good manners restrained them | both, When she turned away, though, he fell in beside her and strolled along in the direction of the elevators, It seemed he had something more to say. “About stoves now"”— Celia stopped short and faced him again. You certainly couldn't get a stove at the ten-cent store, “Of courep, if you're going to serve elaborate meals, or do a lot of bak- ing, you need ‘a big stove with a couple of ovens and a plate warmer and all the rest. But if you aren't, why don’t you just get a flat stove without any oven—the kind that stands on a table—or a box? You oy rohaaes! othe cle foratture with $11 sv fupmitare. with grpurehaacd for $24 loates her ‘ai DING INSTALMENTS, oan ‘uy that kind for three or four oll ; Celia drew in a long breath. “You simply haven't any idea how kind you've been,” she said. “You've just saved the situation.” And, after he'd stammered, “Not at all,” and said how glad he was, che went on: “And if I save all that, I suppose I could buy a really good refrigera- tor. Here, you know.” The young man blushed again. What he'd done already was bad enough, from the point of view of the head of the department. But what was coming next was rank treason, nothing less. No wonder he hung fire for a second, But it got blurted out at last. “T tell you what I'd do,” he said. “You know these big storage ware- houses? There are some out on the West Side. Well, they're always sell- ing things that have been stored and not paid for, you know—all kinds of household things. You could prob- ably get a really good refrigerator—as good as you'd want, for $8 or $9," This time Celia did shake hands, and blurted out a secret at the same time. “If ever I get rich again,” she said, ‘T'll come up here and buy every- thing in sight.” ‘She left an excellent salesman com- pletely demoralized for the day, What hurt, she reflected, wasn't having people know things about you. It was having them suspect things that you were trying to hide. Well, that was easy. She need never be ashamed of anything again. With a little leisure for reflection she might have made some further discoveries just as surprising, or even more 80, But you won't need to be told that she had none. She had two tasks on her hands: one to get the new flat ready for herself and Fred, the other-to get their house ready for the Colliers. Either one of them was enough to fill to bursting the time at her disposal, and that she actually accomplished both may be taken as a triumphant demonstration that a body can occupy two different spaces at the same time. Part of the credit for this must to Larry Doyle, for it was he who organized Ccliw’a activities, showed her the importance of doing certain things first. It was nearly eleven o'clock Friday morning when she con- fronted him across his luncheon bar, and she plunged into the midst of things without the waste of a minute, “It isn't any friends of mine that I took the place for,” she began, “It's my husband and me, He's lost all his money, and he's got a job at $22.60 a week, 1 told him he could leave the flat to me and that I'4 have it ready to live in to-morrow when he comes home from work. Ill frin sheets and blankets and towels an table linen from home. ‘Those things don’t go with @ furnished house, do they? And I've got a silly blue rug that I paid $24 for for the big room, and I've got $44 to buy everything else with, Oh, $6 of it goes for your stove. That leaves $88. So I want you to tell me where there's a storage ware- house, or a second-hand shop, where 1 can get everything cheap.” It's no wonder she rather, took Larry Doyle's breath, with her bright cheeks—the March wind was sharp this morning—and ber eager voice, and her half-scared adventurous way of making frends with him. While he was making up his mind what to say first, she ran on: “It will be posstble, won't it—to have everything ready for him, run- ning, you know, by 6 o'clock to-mor- row night? Oh, but it's Kot to be!” “Sure it's possible,” he sald, “But you don’t want to be bothering with your second-hand furniture yet a while. Go straight to the gas office Now—It's not far—and get your stove and tell them you must have it con- nected wp with a meter to-day. To- morrow’s a half-day, being Saturday, and you won't get a hand's turn of work out of those boys. So, if you don't wi to be Jeft till Monday"’— see," she broke in, champing to be off. “Tell me where It Is.” He did, and added the warning that they'd very likely tell her, to begin with, that it was impossible for them to put the job through this week. “But I'm thinking,” he added, “that you'll know what to say to them better than I could tell you.” She nodded and smiled, partly in anticipation, partly in amused re- mem branee of a Celia who had ceased to exist some time during the past week, who had always said, with a touch of unconscious pride, that she couldn't beg for things. “On your way back from there,” Larry called after her, “stop in the coal office and have them send up a hundred-pound sack of range for your stove, It won't do for you to be sitting @round in those cold rooms.” She might have tossed that cau- tion off with airy impatience but for @ phrase the Irishman sent after her. There are them that can afford to be sick,” he said, them that can’t.” ney CHAPTER X. HE was inclined to dinrelish that idea as she walked away with it—the notion that her health was an asvet her husband was entitled to count upon, But she adopted it Instantly, and presently found @ certain satisfaction in that point of view, partly, perhaps, be- cause she felt that Alfred's chival- rousness would be shocked by it. She found them, at the gas office, auite.as difficult as she had been warned they would be, and it took « half-hour’ Intensive bombardment with all her feminine artillery to re- duce the man she finally got herself taken to toa weakly acquiescent state, in which the promise she wanted could be wrung out of him. Then she paid for her stove—a three-burner affair—and departed in triuaph Her activities from then on were too complex and multifarious to be followed in detail. She stalked elu- sive bargains from one likely lair to another, slowly, it seemed to her, but really with remarkable expedition, ac- cumulating the articles she needed. She had her ups and downs. ‘Thi were exultant moments, just after finding something that was exactly what she wanted, and buying it for less than she had believed possible, when she thought she was going to have more money than she needed and revived the notion of a nes' egg hoard in & stocking. There were moments of despair when some ne- cossit reared ita head and stared at her. She wound up at the nearest 10-cent store at half past four in the after- noon; purchased—very much at hap- hazard, because she was too tired to think—a quantity of kitchen dishes, and lugged them, in two vast irregular bundles, from which the strings were constantly threatening to allp, back to the flat, She experienced a very keen pleas- ure in finding Larry Doylo there making a fire in the big. base-bur- ner. Not only because a fire was very much needed, the place being cold as a stone and damp into.the bargain from the cleaning {t had got, but because Larry was, by thin time, such a very old and dear “and there are friend, and it warmed and rested one's heart to see him. He reported that the gas stove had come and that the man with the meter had already come in and connected it up; probably a world's record for promptness, he thought, and an extraordinary tribute to Ce- lia's powers of persuasion. Also, a large rolled-up package had come from Shield’s that must be the rug The Kids’ Send-Off Parade swrttlive, By Ferd G. Long she had completely overlooked, a - : What Life in the By a Man Who Begin the Story on This sho had spoken of. Should be open it? He did, and they apread it down on the floor and discunsed its appearance, It would probably look pretty funny, Colla thought, along with the Junk #he had been buying this afternoon, Her voice was flat with fatigue, he commented upon it, ‘You'd better call it a day, now, and go home to bed,” he advised. He must be ving, himself, #ince an- other busy hour of the lunch room was coming on. “There are two reasona why I must stay,” she said. “One of them being that T am too tired to stir until I have sat here for a while.” She was on the only seat In the place, the step ading up to their alcove bedroom ‘And the other that the expressman who's bringing the things from the storage warehouse will be along in o few minutes, and I've got to be here to let him in, Oh, he won't be long, and a6 soon as he comes I'll go.” Before ho left he pulled up a corner of the ru@ over the step to make it a lttle softer, and told her how to shut off the stove for the night. She heard the door close behind him, and almost iostantly thereafter, she thought, a violent knocking on it, which seemed, impossibly, to have nm going on Aome time. ‘Also the nom Was now quite dark, except as lighted by the glow through isinglass door of the stove. It very bewildering until she un- derstood that she must have fallen asleep sitting on that step. It was then 7 o'clock; a very aleo- holic flavor about the two men who had brought her load of furniture ac- counting, perhaps, for their delay in arriving with it; and it was a quar- ter to eight before the last article was stowed away and Cella could turn the key on the place. An even twelve hours ago she bad received the second-hand clothing dealer for the purpose of selling him her clothes, It had been a day sure enough. An ampler day, not only in the matter of material activities, but in its emotional content, than any she could remember, The people she'd encountered had seemed more real and alive and human than those her old paths had brought her into casual contact with She was so tired, as she made her way to the corner drug store to call Up the house and tell Fred where she was and that she was on her way home, that the mere exertion of walk- ing almost brought tears. But even fatigue couldn't lessen the triumph- J4nt senae of achieved adventure. None of that, naturally, got over the telephone to her husband, and his own tone of poignant anxiety—he had been waiting hours for her to come home and indulging in all sorts of terrors about her—sounded mercly (uerulous to her. He had called up her mother’s house two or three times, but they had no word from her, Was that where she was now? Thin supposition, naturally again, annoyed Cella, Why should whe be at her mother's? She told him, with- out explanation, where she was, and that she was coming straight home now; would get in about nin When she got home at haif-past nine or so he flung the door open for her as she came up the steps and kreeted her with « "Wherever in the world you been?” She © @ limp little laugh and sald, “Where haven't I been! My, but I'm tired!’ “Cella,” he paid, standing in front of her to k walking off, to do, we've got to hav All right,” she sald, “but come on out into the kitchen and talk while I eat. L had @ lunch about three at Larry Doyle's, but that's all jcoffeo this morning. I'm starv Her manner both disconcer | exasperated him. He had beon pre- pared to meet terrible emotional | #tregses——tragedy, He it pretty | trate But himself, should be al noyr on his dealings with C | be marked by eenteness and seren- ity, And, tf d been the grief- stricken, bewildered object he'd got |himself keyed up for, ehe would | have found him exactly that. But as ‘t was, he criad out “Who. the is Larry Doyle? And where » have you been- all these hours?” She frowned, @ little puzzled over his violence, but said: ‘I've been all over the West Side, And Larry Doyle ‘aa dear. Wait Ul! you've seen hini He sald, "Cella, L'can't do it—treat |the thing in that manner, I mean, | lfere we are at the end of everything, jand you're acting as If 1t were plans fot a we nd visit to the count This {4 our last chance to decide any thing, and—and I want to talk about it seriously. You aren't so angry with me now as you were, and I think I can make you see that I didn't mean what you thought the other ' BULLETS AND BILLETS Trenches Means Has Been There Page Monday, Sept. 10 Right. At least, not in that offer way. I want you to consider gol back to your father and mother, Not to get rid of me, but to wait. Oh, can't you sit down and listen!” All the time he talked she had beet eating away steadily, and his last ex- clamation was provoked by her gets ting up for a raid on the cake-box. “I'm listening.” she said, with her mouth full, it must be admitted. Then, with an effort, and a little bit more clearly: “But it ian’t an: Fred. You agreed to the flat, ‘aidn't your™ to find one that “You won't be ab! you'd be willing to live in, for any rent You've no dea 1 can afford to pa: what {t would mean; the thi have to put up with, pri ted} near Humboldt Park.” the street and number to him, better write down,” she added, “be- cause it's where you live, buying furniture all the fernoon Thon, at his look of perfectly blank e@mazement, “Why—didn't you J meant anything I said that 2 What do you think ['ve been all the afternoon? Gloom: like the heroine of Kast Lynne? write that address down, Fred, be- cause your dinner—some sort of a dinner—is going to be ready there to-morrow night, at half-past etx, and I don't want you wandert over the Weat Side, not thowing where you live." le recited the address once and stood watching, while her fhe €n automaton, wrote it down. Then before he could eet his wits together —and she had plenty of time, for they were very thoroughly scattered — she added: 'm simply #0 dead tired and sleepy T can feel my braine alipping around inside my head, I'm Good night. |” SOME UD to bed., CHAPTER XI. T wasn't quite the real thing, this manner of hers. There dash of play-acting in it. Bist whe w t conscious, to-night. she was too tired, poor child, to be accurately conscious of anything of the motive that led her to assume it, In the background of ‘her mind, of course, she knew that she had m laid her rage against her hush More than that, had tossed it over- board long ayo. She knew that the motive, quite sincerely avowed on night of the dinner-party—the desly to demonstrate, to his repentance aril shame, how outrageously he had nite judged her—had been wearing tiinne and thinner every hour, and tha would collapse almost at the fir touch, But she didn’t want th collapse to happen until she got hlan fairly into their new home. There werdga multitude of las things to be Yone wm the house, course, the next morning, and ‘sb didn't get started on them as carly as she might, since she slept fathomie deep till 8 o'clock, and only by luck waked up then, So it was near noor before she reached the flat. Bix hours and a little more left, and an amount to do that might well have swamped her with dismay At 2 o'clock, when Larry Doyle's for lunch, her tha i way. But came back with he for an hour, his noon rush over, and between them Uhey -a Plished miracles. There was plenty to do, of course, even after that, At 5 o'clock @he Ked up the flat and set out, with her last three di to buy: food for their evening meal, and-—she nearly forgot this~-for over Sunday, She had @ surprise up her sleeve here for Alfred. She was, really, de- spite the misgiving she had confided to Larry Doyle, not a half-bad cook. Years ago, when that first man she. had engaged to was in the ag- nt, she ¢ had played, in quite a serious man r, at domeatic belence, and had really discovered a lat talent for cooking. Her dramat break-u owe with the mar who had’ Inspired ‘these labora, had swept her into other channels, and she'd never gone back. Alfred sus- pected nothing of this, and it had been part of her programme to com~ plete his annihilation, 1f poastble, with a pretty good dinner, ‘The fact that sho had to buy enough for Ave meals, with her three dollars, gave , Which she was rather glad of, (To Be Continued Tuesday.) 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