Cosmopolitan 1920-07: Vol 69 Iss 1

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“Well, well — here we are again” NHESTERFIELD advertising keeps telling you that Chesterfieids “satisfy.” And every day, new hundreds. of smokers try Chesterfields and learn the truth —that Chesterfields do “satisfy.” Right now, there are over three million smokers—over three million friends—who know the “satisfying” quality of Chesterfield’s can’t-be- copied blend of fine Turkish and Domestic tobaccos. They know— “They Satisfy.” \ | -O 9 —~and the blend carit be copied

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. Dance to the music of famous bands and orchestras—on the Victrola The very latest and most tuneful dance numbers, played by musicians who are past masters in the art of delighting dance lovers. All the dash and sparkle and rhythm that make dance music so entrancing. And always ready on the Victrola! Hear the newest dance music at any Victor dealer’s. Victrolas $25 to $1500. New Victor Records demon- strated at all dealers on the 1st of each month. Victor Talking Machine Company Camden, New Jersey This trademerk and the trademarked word “Victrola” identify all our products. Look under the lid! Look on the label! VICTOR TALKING MACHINE CO. J. I ~ ce ¥ | i! Al 4 \\ HIS MASTERS VOICE” | GSS | &

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COSMOPOLITAN Americas Greatest Magazine This Month Cover: Romancing Harrison Fisher Democracy and Laughter 23 Meredith Nicholson Youth 24 Edgar A. Guest Decoration by W. T. Benda Cousins of Convenience 26 Montague Glass Illustrated by J. Henry The Bruised Reed 32 Zoé Akins Illustrated by P. A. Carter The First Works 38 Basil King Decorations by F. X. Leyendecker Star-Dust 42 Fannie Hurst Illustrated by James Montgomery Flagg | The Stage To-day 49 Photographs in Artgravure “One for All” 53 Gouverneur Morris Illustrated by M. L. Bower Kindred of the Dust 58 Peter B. Kyne Illustrated by Dean Cornwell Dear Old Squiffy 65 Arthur Somers Roche and his interesting tamily P. G. Wodehouse Easy Come ° Illustrated by T. D. Skidmore Arthur Somers Roche’s new novel, beginning in 0 The Long Shot 71 August Cosmopolitan p Will Payne ‘Tis story of Clancy Deane, the country girl who Illustrated by Harrison Fisher was swept into the midst of Manhattan’s spending- ; mad millionaires, is by far the best and biggest Mr. The Pleasant Person 77 ever ( Frank R. Adams : And it is different. You who read his “Uneasy P Illustrated by Grant T. Reynard Street’’ will come to know a new, ultramodern phase of ss In Chancery 82 New York life. You who read his “Loot” or his ‘‘Ran- , som” will be amazed at his being able to weave an even c more exciting, more interesting plot. Its movement is swift and certain, its mystery baffling. John Galsworthy Illustrated by W. D. Stevens The Abdication 89 And the love-story of Clancy Deane is a classic ‘in itself. ° _ Perceval Gibbon You will want to read every instalment of Easy Come. ( Illustrated by Fortunino Matania To get the first instalment, you will be wise to order The Fable of the Cousins Who Got Toeeth your AuGusT COSMOPOLITAN from your news-dealer at v€ Fable of the Cousins Who Got J ogether 93 once. With the phenomenal growth of CosMopoLiITAN c Geor ge Ade and the paper-shortage, you run a risk of not being able 1 Illustrated by John T. McCutcheon to procure a copy at the last minute. ; t Wittiam Hearst, President A. Moors, Vice-President and Treasurer Ray Lone, Vice-President W. G. Lanopox, Secretary, 119 W. 40th St., New Yorn I $3.00 A YEAR IN U.S.; $4.00 ELSEWHERE 25 CENTS A COPY IN U. S.; 35 CENTS IN CANADA t Published monthty at 119 West 40th Street, New York, N.Y¥.. by International Magazine Company. Entered as second-class matter, ( September 8, 1905, at the Post-Office, New York, N. ¥.. under the Act of Mareh 3, 1879. Entered on July 1, 1918, at the Post-Offiee, Atlanta, Ga.: Kosten, Mass.: Chieago, {ll.: Los Angeles, Calif.: San Franeiseo, Calii. All subscriptions are payable in advance and at the full price. Cosmopolitan is never offered in combination with other magazines at a uced rate. We cannot begin subscriptions with back numbers. Unless otherwise directed we begin all subscriptions with the ‘ current issue. When sending in your renewal or making a request for a change of address, please give us four weeks’ notice. If you § wish your address changed, please be sure to give us both your old and new addresses. Cosmopolitan, 119 West 40th Street, New York COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY (COSMOPOLITAN MAGAZINE) 4LL RIGHTS RESERVED UNDER THE TERMS OF THE FOURTH AMERICAN INTERNATIONAL CONVENTION OF ARTISTIC AND LITERARY COPYRIGHT The Harrison Fisher cover of this issue without lettering mailed on receipt of 35 cents ) ?

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 OLIVER BRAND NEW Latest and Best Model 3 Was $100 Now $57 A Finer Typewriter at a Fair Price Money Down No money in advance. No deposit. No obligation to buy. The coupon below brings the Oliver for free trial in your home or office. When it arrives, let it prove its su- periority and saving. You be the judge, with no salesman at your elbow to influence you. If you agree that it is the finest typewriter regardless of price, and want to own it, then pay us at the easy rate of $3 a month until the $57 is paid. If you do not want it, ship it back, express collect. We even refund the outgoing transportation charges. So you can’t lose a cent on the free trial. A saving of $43 For $57 you now obtain the identical Oliver Typewriter formerly priced at $100. We are able to save you nearly half be- cause of our radically new and economical method of distribution. During the war we learned many lessons. We found that it was unnecessary to have such a vast num- ber of traveling salesmen and so many ex- pensive branch houses throughout the coun- try. We were able to discontinue many other superfluous sales methods. The result is that we can afford to sell at $57 the very same Oliver formerly priced at $100. A clean cash saving to you of $43! Only 10c a day You may pay for the Oliver on easy terms ~—only $3 a month, which averages about roc a day. And you have the use of the machine while paying. Since it is so easy to own a brand new Oliver, why should anyone think of renting or buying a second-hand machine? Our latest and best model In every pacticular this Oliver 9 is the finest that 24 years of experierice can produce. A better typewriter is impcssible. It has all the latest improvements. ts durability and workmanship have given it world-wide fame. It has a standard keyboard, so anyone may turn to it without the slighest hesitancy. You can’t buy a more satisfactory type- writer at any price. But we do not ask you to take our word for this. We believe that an ounce of PERFORMANCE beats a ton of promise. That is why we say, “Try an Oliver 5 days free.” Only the coupon Remember you need not send any money now. Just fill out the coupon and mail it if you wish to get the Oliver for five days’ free trial in your own home. Tf you decide to keep the typewriter you can pay for it on terms so easy that you won’t miss the money— only $3 a.month. If you prefer to have further information before ordering, fill in the coupon for our free catalog. August 1, 1920, the price of the Oliver Typewriter will be $64. We are com- pelled to make this advance because of the increased cost of production. The Oliver remains the same. We will not lower its quality. The addition in cost insures its superiority. The $57 price of the Oliver has been widely advertised. We want to be en- tirely fair so we notify you in advance of the change. Check the coupon for free trial Oliver or the catalog, just as you wish. Clip the coupon now and mail it at once. Canadian price $72 until Aug. 1, 1920 The OLIVER Typewriter Gmpany 114A Oliver Typewriter Bldg., Chicago, Ill. THE OLIVER TYPEWRITER COMPANY 114A Oliver Typewriter Bldg., Chicago, Ill. li Nine for five days’ free in- will pay $57 at the ra‘ of $3 per month, The title to remain in you until fully paia for. My shipping point is ---------~- i bliga’ to bay. re Pig does not place we Twill ship it back at your expense at the end of five days. Do not send a machine until I ort Le me your High Cost Street a, — NESS — \ [| | | | Mail NOW!

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> Educational Guide Schools for Girls and Colleges for Women In Nashville, Tennessee WARD-BELMONT, one of the most popular schools for girls in the South, offers real op- portunities for greater growth and develop- ment. It combines highest academic training and advantages of extensive grounds and equipment with that much-sought-for Southern culture and refinement. Courses to meet individual needs of students covering 4 years preparatory and 2 years college work. Unexcelled advantages in Piano, Violin, Voice, and Organ. Strong departments in Art, Literature, Expression, Physical Train- ing, Domestic Arts, and Secretarial. Outdoor sports and swimming l. Wood Club, affords wonderful week-end trips into the open country. Application with references should be made as soon as possible. Booklets on request. Ward-Belmont, Belmont-Heights Box A Nashville, Tenn. WARD-BELMONT For GIRLS AND YouNnG WomERN DREW SEMINARY THE Carmel School for girls. Healthfully located 49 miles from New York. 600 feet elevation, overlook- ing beautiful Lake Gleneida. Homelike atmosphere. General and special courses. All athletics. Catalogue. Clarence Paul McClelland, Pres., Box 206, Oarmel, N. Y. classes. Special emph study, physical a and at DISTINCTIVE school inthe NATIONAL _ CAPITAL giving to a selected number of girls the best American culture. Pre- ratory, Collegiate, Domestic Science, retarial Departments, Music, Art, Ex- pression. Individual attention in small on out-of-door Miss Jesse Truman, Washi D. 0. AFFORD Women Founded 1830 Grade: Standard four-year course with B. A. degree. Household Economics with B. 8. Special Courses: Violin, Cello, oice, Piano with B. M. degree. Two-year normal courses in Household Economics, Public School Music and Art. Faculty: Trained in foremost uni- versities of Europe and America. Location: In beautiiul, healthful college town, one hour from Cin- cinnati. Rates $400. Write for “Seven Points” and catalog. For Young Women Gainesville, Georgia, 50 Miles North of Atlanta Combines best features of Schoo?, Club and Home. Standard courses leading to the degrees of B.A., B.O. and Mus. B. Special students and candidates for certificates also accepted. Instruction also offered in art—household economics—secretarial branches and physi- cal culture Brenau Means Refined Gold Faculty of 40 college graduates—student body of 500. thirty states represented—non-sectarian, seven fraternities— Homelike atmosphere, d ti spirit, Student Self-Government. Modern equipment. 96 acres, 32 buildings, includ- ing up-to-date gymnasium with swimming el. Healthful climate in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Separate “School” for girls 12 to 16 years of age. € invite your inspection. For particulars address: BRENAU, Box B Gainesville, Ga. Highland Manor TARRYTOWN-ON-HUDSON, N. ¥. Use the valuable years of your happy girlhood days to the greatest advantage by studying in a progressive, non-sectarian boarding school situated on a picturesque estate in the beautiful Hudson Valley—on the site formerly occupied by the Knox School—where you will be led forward and upward by an inspiring faculty oi enthusiastic college gradu- ates, where you will be placed in classes small enough to insure your receiving the maximum amount of individual attention yet large enough for competition to spur you on to your best, where you will be sur- rounded by highly desirable companions whose friendship well worth permanent cultivation, where you may pursue Liberal Arts, College any, Post-graduate, Secretarial, Home Making, ntermediate and Primary courses, and where you will participate in all outdoor games. EUGENE H. LEHMAN Box C 216 W. 100 St., New York St ASK COSMOPOLITAN for information on additional schools and colleges anywhere. = - ies * N. ADAMS, Ph, D., President, Box 40, Oxford, Ohio | = | | The on 4

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Schools fo; Girls and Colleges for Women QDssini Sebool FOR GIRLS We offer, with diploma, Aca- demic, College Preparatory. Art Music, Dramatic, Secretarial and Home-making Courses, including Horticulture. may regular or, ‘ents approval, ma desired. In beaut ful Westchester, 30 miles from New York. Write for Year Book. Ossining-on-Hudson. New York. CLARA C. FULLER, Principal MARTHA J. NARAMORE, Associate Principal PUTNAM HALL Vassar Preparatory School. Students wepared for lead- ial courses for High Schoo! Sullins College For Girls and Young Women A Delightful College Home in Beautiful Southern Virginia . Located in beautiful Virginia Park, in the magnii- cent mountains of Virginia. An old established school, founded 1870, rebuilt completely in 1917. e modern, new buildings are newly furnished, and every bedroom has a bath attached. Health record unexcelled. Strong emphasis on outdoor life and health building. orseback riding, swimming and gymnastics are given every pupil without extra cost. Junior College Courses with fine advantages in Music, Art, Expression, Domes- tic Science and Secretarial Courses. Patronage drawn from best homes of 35 states. Write for catalogue and Book of Views. Address: W. E. Martin, Ph. D., President Box A, Bristol, Va. Art, estic Science. Tennis Horseback riding. Military Drill, Sleeping porches. Separate house for younger children. Address: ELLEN C. BARTLETT, A. B., Principal Poughkeepsie New Yo York Horace Mann School An unusually complete Day School. College Preparation. ne Arts, Gymnasium and Swimming roy daughter here for an education. Terms $650 ool Course for Girls. Six-year Ele- ourse for Boys and Girls. Catalog upon request. N.Y.C., B'way at 120th St. HENRY CARR Household and Pool. Six-year High Sch mentary COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY or $1 EARSON, Prin. Ursuline Academy inclusive of extras. NEw YorK, Middletown. Write for catalogue. Lasell Seminary More than a passing on of text book knowl- edge is achieved at Lasell Seminary. Its goal is to arouse appreciation of the best in life and to develop the best in each student. The course of study from first year high school through two years advanced work for high school graduates, covers a wide range of academic subjects, and electives necessary to individual development. Unusual training is given in various phases of homemaking, from marketing to entertaining. The school is delightfully situated on a thirty acre estate ten miles from Boston. All cultural advantages of the city are util- i Many forms of outdoor sports and rec- reation play a part in the school activities. Woodland Park Junior Department for girls under fifteen. Catalogs on application. Y M. WINSLOW, Ph.D., Principal oH A Principal CHAS. F. TOWNE, A.M., Asso. 109 Woodland Road, Auburndale 66, Mass. Do you wish to know about Lady Jane Grey School For Girls. 37th year. College Courses. Advanced work for Music, Business Course, G: NEw York, Binghamton. ymnastics and outdoor sports. VIRGINIA JONES, A. B., Principal. Preparatory and General chool grad home life. High Sch demi The Gardner School Fireproof building. , Secretarial and elective courses. M swimming, tennis, rhythmic dancing. 63rd year. iiss ELTINGE and Miss MASLAND, Principals. NEw YORK Ciry, 11 East 52nd Street. for Girls. _A thorough school with delightful College preperatory. usic, riding, LiL HOWARD AFamous Old New England Country School Twenty-five miles from Boston. College Prep- aration. General Courses. Domestic Science and Home Management. Strong courses in instru- mental and vocal music. Modern Languages. The school, home and gymnasium are each in separate buildings. — ~ new sleeping porch. Fine new Y. W. C. A. swimming pool. Military drill, horse- back riding, excellent canoeing, trips afield. Ex- tensive grounds. All Live teachers. be a and lower school pupils. For catalog address MR. and MRS. C. P. KENDALL, Principals 10 Howard St., West Bridgewater, Mass. FOR GIRLS OMATHAM, VA. RT. REV. B. D. TUCKER, D. D., President Rev. ©. Orlande Pruden, D. D., Keetor. Beauti- ful and healthful location. 10-acre campus. Mod- ern equipment, Athletics, Gym., College Prepara- tory. Music, Art, Domestic Science, Expression. Certificate admits to leading colleges. Catalog. Mrs. Elizabeth May Willis, B. P., Principal, Box 9 An established school. Faculty built by years of selection. Many graduates occupying of responsi- wood CoM BID the practical with the cultural. Junior College Depart- ments, College Preparatory, Music, Physical Educa- tion, Expression, Arts and Crafts, Oratory. Secretary- ship, Gymnastics, Normal Kindergarten, Swimming, Athletics. Large new gymnasium. Catalog. M. H. REASER Ph. D., Pres., Box 400, Jenkintown, Pa. ee other resident schools not advertised here? ASK COSMOPOLITAN. i j r OF MINARY® CHATHAM | | | f | |

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Schools for Girls and Colleges for Women Moun Ida chool tive. trance. miles from Boston Send for New Year Book We send students to college on certificate. Many girls, however, after leaving high school do not wish to go to college. But often they desire advanced work in a new environment with competent instructors, and to select studies best meeting their tastes and interests. We offer just these opportunities. English or Literature, but the course otherwise is elec- All subjects count for diploma. Graduation from high schoo! not necessary for en- Special work in voice, piano, violin, ‘cello, harp and pipe organ, A finely equipped school. with new pipe organ; gymnasium and swimming pool. All outdoor sports. Boston in Music, Art and historical associations are freely used. Domestic Science, Art, Elocution. Excellent Secretarial Course. Management; Costume Design and Home Decoration. A girl, after leaving grammar school, can begin her studies at Mount Ida and continue them until she has an education equivalent to two years taking through her whole course an elective program. Junior College Courses. Some rooms with hot and cold water. early application is necessary to secure enrollment. Special car for Western girls from Chicago Sept. 23. Exceptional op with a delichtfu FOR GIRLS Students take with eminent Boston masters. New building (6 in all) All the opportunities of Courses in Business in College, For 1920-21 home life 1647 SUMMIT St., NEWTON, Mass. native teachers. Music. commercial law, letter writing, Arts, including plain sewing, dressmaking, Domestic Science, stenozraphy. of study, but to each girl's health and happiness millinery, HOUSE IN THE PINES School for Girls. Extensive grounds and pine groves. Athletic aes. Horseback riding. Swimming. Gymnasium. Modern dwelling with sleep- ing porch. Separate buildings for upper and lower school. Secretarial Courses, including bookkeeping, typewriting. Domestic embroidery, etc. including cooking and serving of meals, marketinz, food values and the care of the home. Every attention, not only to habits MISS GERT®UDE E. CORNISH, Principal NORTON, MASS, 40 minutes from Boston Languages— For girls 5 t 6 years. number. Individual care. development, equally cared for. music. Only bright, healthy Miss SARAH M VISON, Principal. WISCONSIN, Beaver Dam, Hillcrest. s. Best Limited Mental, moral and physical Unusual adv. in Maryland College for Women Courses; College Preparatory; College: Domestic Science: Music: Expression. Advantages; 10 miles from = —— Fireproof bulidings; Strong faculty; 66 years’ history. a ress MARYLAND, Luthervilie. Box w. FOR GIRLS For 174 years it has been educating and training LINDEN HALL SEMINARY young women for worthy living. Aims at highest de- velopment of body, mind and character. Provides a happy, wholesome home life. Beautiful, healthful location, Comfortable buildings, modern equipment. Gymnasium. Academic, College Preparatory, Music, Aft, Domestic Science, Secretarial. Junior Dept. Rev. F. W. STENGEL, Principal, Box 113, Lititz, Pa. Day and Boarding School for Girls. Oak Hall 35th year. College preparatory and general courses. Exceptiona! advantages in Music. Domes- EA Science. Gymnasium and Swimming pool. Tennis. Riding, Hockey. For booklet address ROYAL A. MOORE (HARVARD), A.M., Principal. MINNESOTA, St. Paul, 578-590 Holly Avenue. School for Girls. Successful preparation Tudor Hall for all colleges for women and for uni- versities. General and special courses for those not enter- ing college. Art studio. Gymnasium. Roof playground, Swimming For catalogue address FREDONIA ALLEN, Principal. INDIANA, Indianapolis. Penn Hall] School for Girls “Fairfax Hall A select school for girls in the Valley of Virginia. Col- lege Bg ne year graduate work, Music, Art, Economics, Expression, Secretarial. Superb facilities. ‘T'wo main lines. 17 minutes Staunton. 21 acre estate, beautiful eR build- — High altitude, umnexcelled scenery. ring (Lithia) water in Virginia. riding, tennis, basket-ball, river sports. Terms $450. Catal JOHN NOBLE MAXWELL, President Fairfax Hall, Box C, Basic, Va. School (COMBINES charm and wholesomeness of beauti- ful suburb with city advantages only eight miles Ci for all colleges. Strong courses. Music and Art. Campus six acres with lak Outdoor sports, swimming and riding. Individual — tention. Separate house for younger girls. Oliver Denton, Visiting Director Piano Dept. Catalog and views on request. Emma Milton Cowles, A.B. Head of School Oak Lane Philadelphia, Pa. Centenary For girls and young women. Standara Junior offering best advantages in all branches of music, art expression, home economics, physical education and secretarial training. Swimming pool, with all indoor and outdoor sports. Beautiful grounds, Ideal locatjon, excel- lent railway facilities. 36th year begins September 21, 1920. Reservations are now being made { for next session. For literature address Dr. J. W. MALONE, President. ‘TENNESSEE, Cleveland, Box A HOOD COLLEGE For Youngs Women Frederick Maryland A beautiful, modern College, home advantages accessible to National Capital and otber historic, places. True to American ideals and traditions. Tnexcelled health 45 acres—our own farm, garden, and da! Standard ‘and B. S._ courses, including four years of Home Accredited! courses in Pedagogy. Also Music, Art and Expression Terms $450 to $500. For catalog and booklet of view- apply to JOSEPH H. APPLE, LL.D., President Box C, Frederick, Maryland the latter Econor ies Dwight School For Girls Englewood, New Jersey Suburban te New York City. Combining best features of College Preparatory and Finishing Sehoo!. Speciul advantages fur post-graduate work, Domestic Arte Science. Spacious grounds for outdoor cames. Tenn Ridi MISS CREIGHTON and MISS FARRAR, Principals AIM—Full Development of True W hood COURSES OF STUDY AMUSEMENTS Horseback Riding Basketball ockey, Te College Preparatory Modern Language Domestic Science Boating, F ng Musie, Art Gymnastics New Gymnasium and Swimming Certificate privileges. Rooms with private May each year spent at Atlantic City. Vork continues without interruption. Rates $700. For catalogue and view book address FRANK S, MAGILL, A.M,, pacivel, Box N Chambersburg, a. New The Birmi ingham School Founded 1853 The Mountain School Healthful, invigorating location amid pic- turesque surroundings. School park land of 100 acres. Six modern, home-like buildings. College preparation and courses for girls not going to college. Strong music depart- ment with exceptional up-to-date equi ment. Dancing, practical domestic science and athletic training. New $50,000 buflding with swimming and sleeping On Main Line a for catal A. R. RIER, Pres. Birmingham, Pa. pes 3: MOULTON, A.B., Head master Address Box 627 OGONTZ SCHOOL Founded 1850 A country school for girls in the Rydal Hills. 25 minutes from Philadelphia, on the New York line of the Philadelphia and Reading. Catalog describing and illustrating new waar sent on request. RYDAL, Junior Department. Miss Abby A. Sutherland, Principal Ogontz School, Penna. ASK COSMOPOLITAN to assist you in locating any school or college you desire. om 6 | ‘ | | | the | doo | | anc hig Hi lon Ro | | = OTS Db |!

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Schools for Girls and Colleges for Women Mary Lyon School You'll find just the happy kind of ife ea want at Mary Lyon. It’s high up on a wooded hill with a little stream in the vey below. Cheerful atmosphere. Busy days. Out- le. Ce II ratory or general. Homemaking, Music and Wildclitt i is the new school for high school uates. Seven Gables is for girls 11-14 and Hi Icrest for little girls 6-11. Each is a separate school. Rooms are sunny and comfortable, edisiaing baths, long mirrors, individual desk closet and chiffonier space. . The best way is to visit. Come and stay in the Mothers’ oom. Indicate the catalog desired. MR. & MRS. H. M. CRIST, Principals Box 1500, Swarthmore, Pa. con iv SCHOOL FOR ica. The Chamberlayne t. General, special and college preparatory courses. Household arts. Music. Languages—native teachers. Out-of-door sports. THE Fenway, 28. MASSACHUSETTS, Boston Wheaton College for Women Only small separate college for women in Massachu- ] setts. 4-year course. A.B. degree. Faculty of men and women. 30 buildings. 100 acres. Endowment. Catalog. REV. SAMUEL V. COLE, L.D., President. MASSACHUSETTS, Norton (30 miles from Boston). Devon Manor In region, 16 miles from Philadelphia. Col- lege Voca’ Domestic Arts, retarial, Soc! Service, Art RS. LANGDON CASKIN, Prin. PENNSYLVANIA, Devon, — on Manor, Box 106. Highland Hall A school for girls, in residential town 1,000 feet_above sea level, on n iine of rgoneriy ania Railroad. College paratory, General and Post age Courses. Miss ELLEN C. Keates, A. B., Principal. PENNSYLVANIA, Hollidaysburg. NATIONAL PARK SEMINARY For Young Women Located in Suburbs of Washington, D.C. James E. Ament, Ph.D., LL.D., President wall Junior College for uates of high and pespeeeaeny schools who wish two years of giate work. In addition to a wide ran of academic studies, courses are given in le art, expression and vocational sub- a Special domestic science diploma course. ooded cam a? of 65 acres, — The Main Building The Villa reation and for the promotion of intimate and helpful relations between teachers and girls. References requi Registration for 1920 nearing completion. Registration for 1921 and 1922 well advanced. Applications accepted for any year up to 1924. Illustrated catalog upon request to Registrar, Box 115, Forest Glen, Md. AIRMON Home School for Girlg Our location in the best residential section permits a rare combination of country life with the unique edu- cational advantages of the National Capital. Regular and special courses, also advanc School Graduates. Music, Art, Expression, Domestic Arts and Science. Supervised Athletics. Individual care. Mr. and Mrs.*Arthur Ramsay, Washington, D. C. courses for High fe.) Y Cedar Crest College For high school and college graduates. Dis- tinctive two- and four-year courses in modern scientific business education. Congenial campus life. College of years’ standing. Equip yourself for the agreeable secretarial positions which are seeking young women with college education. Prepare to care for yourself and your property under any circumstances. Suburban Site. City Ad vantages. A. B. and other courses. Write for story “The Private Secretary. Director © DAVIS, CEDAR CREST ALLENTOWN, Pa. Where Can I Find the Right Schoole Here is an oft repeated question—puzzling to ‘ents as well as to boys and girls. e section of a school is worthy of your careful consideratio: We aid in the right choice ot ime right school. Our abundant information is at your command. Ask i any time, about any school, any piace, anywhere. This service is free from expense—either to you or the schools. COSMOPOLITAN EDUCATIONAL CLUB Publishers Building New York | Bishopthorpe | ox 237, Bethlehem, Pa. Prepares on for college or for life. Special two-year roe course for H High, School graduates. Music, d Arts and S Arts and Crafts, xt xpression and Secretarial work. Junior Depart High, healthful location, New gymnasium and tiled on the slope of the Lehigh swimming pool. Tennis, Mountains. Near New basketball, skating, rid- York and Philadelphia, ing. etc. Aesthetic and Bisho oP Ethelbert Folk Dancing.Address “albot, Claude N. Wyant, Visitor. Principal Lenox “A real School im the Heart f the Middle West” Lenox girls are happy girls, be- cause Lenox training is purely constructive. Fully accredited Junior College and College Preparatory Course. Two years’ Playground Course. Music, Art, Expression, Domestic Science. ket Ball, Tennis, Swimmi ing, Hiking, Horseback aoe Tuition $950. Catalog. MRS. LOUISE THOMAS, Principal Box 1023 University City, Mo. THE HARCUM SCHOOL For Girls - Bryn Mawr, Pa., Box A For Girls wanting college preparation a thorough or not to c ol ial opportunities to pursue studies suited to ir tastes and needs. For Girls desiring to specialize in Music or Art, ng are well known artists as instructors. = ae Mawr, the beautiful college town, ten miles iladelphia. New stone buil , Sunny rooms ro private bath, home life, large grounds, hockey, tennis, basket ball, riding. Catalogue. MRS. EDITH HATCHER HARCUM. (Pupil of eens Head of the Sc’ Sarah M. Beach, Ph. D. ) heads = Marguerite G@. Bartlett, Ph. D. ) Academie Department THE SEMPLE SCHOOL A day and boarding school for girls opposite New York’s most picturesque) spot— Central Park. It is the aim of the school to broaden the intelligence, inculcate social graces and insure the happiness of each pupil. Intellectual advantages. Artistic and cultu associations. Special and | finishing courses. Languages, Art, Music and Dra- matic Art. Social life. Outdoor recreation. For catalogue address MRS. T. DARRINGTON SEMPLE, Principal Box C 241-245 Central Park West, New York City uburban to New York City Fifty Minutes from Fifth Avenue For High-School Girls or Graduates Dr. and Mrs. Frederic Martin Town- send, owners and resident directors. Magnificent granite buildings over- looking the sea; high ground, 15 acres, in town; exquisite appointments; im- mense gymnasium; cosey new theatre. Academic and finishing courses, with all studies elective; <lso music, expres- sion, art, domestic science, secretarial. Physical culture, riding, sports. Select, national attendance. Eleventh year. Member- ship $1200. For booklet with views address Principal of Glen Eden, Stamford, Conn. Warner Hall---A Dormitory HE Women’s College of Delaware offers to women excellent training in and Science, Education, Home Economics and_ Agriculture. Board and room $300. Tuition free to Delawareans; to others $50. For catalog and further information, write to Winifred J. Robinson, Ph.D., Dean Newark, Delaware In writing COSMOPOLITAN give tuition, location and kind of school desired. | =] | — | | : = | | | Women’s College of Delaware |

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Centenary Collegiate Institute | g A finely equipped school for girls. 47th year. | @ In beautiful hill country near New York City. @ Competent instruction — one teacher for each seven girls. Averett College year preparatory. @ Six courses with diploma—college tificat New building, library; labotatones, 80 resident students: @ Atmosphere of happiness and good will. Swim- Vinorts, Danville, Box ming pool. Gymnasium. Fifty acres. Masy Baldwin Ladtes. @ Democratic spirit: sensible regulations and Valley of Virginia, modern aquipment, Students from 83 states. Courses: Collegiate (3 yrs.), 4 yrs.). dress. Music. ATt, Expression and Domestic atalog. : A catalogue will be sent on request. Fort Loudoun Seminary Fo" higher culture Delightful location in_ the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. DR. ROBERT J. TREVORROW, Pres. Spd Box 10, Hackettstown, New Jersey Terme $425. For catalogue, address ° ° for Girls and Young Ladies. Fauquier Institute The bist session besins Sept, 23rd, 1920. Situated in Piedmont region of Virginia, 55 miles from Washington. A limited and one home school. Modern buildings, 5-acre_ campus. 25. og. Miss NELLIE V. BUTLER, Prine ipal. VIRGINIA, Warrenton, Box 12. Stuart Hall, Staunton, Virginia. 1843—1920 ormerty Virsinia Female Institute. Oldest girls’ aaa in Virginia—Episcopal. ‘Location healthful and beautiful. General and college preparatory courses. Loyal alumn@ find here for their daughters the familiar atmosphere of culture and combined with modern uipment and teaching methods. Supervised out-door sports. For catalogue address Mrs. H. N. Hills, A. B. (formerly Principal Sweet Briar Academy). Box A. . for Girls. Limited Randolph-Macon Institute to 100. College preparatory and special courses for those not wishing to go to college. Vocal and Instrumental Music, Art, and Expres- sion. Attractive home life. Gy mnasium. Branch ot the Randolph-Macon System. Rates $425. Catalogue. Address VIRGINIA, Danville. CHas. G. EVANS, A.M., Principal. F 1 Virginia Intermont College ve. nyt from 20 ont Coll ~ ourses, usic, Art, xpression omestic Science Ferry Hall a specialty. campus. Bracing climate. Alt. 1900 tt. and advanced courses. Also special in- ym. im. pool. G.N A.M., struction in music, expression and domestic arts and sci- New g ands a ences. Located in a picturesque woodland estate of twelve SKIDMORE SCHOOL VIRGINIA, Bristol, “Box 125. President. acres on the shore of e Michigan, 28 miles from Chicago. tees For catalog address Miss ELOISE R. TREMAIN, Prin. OF ARTS ba) ILLINOIS, Lake Forest, Box 301. Th El S h 1 CHARLES HENRY KEYES, Ph. D., President In the country. One hour from New York. Standard Illinois Woman s College 6 Contes om 4 A woman’s college. Offers broad general and CONNECTICUT, Greenwich, Ely Court. recognized by universities for graduate work and by State plied science. Boards of Education. Degrees in Liberal Arts, Music and Physical Ed: me Musi a jomestic science. Ing'usd sthet courses Suldings.© | ff Several courses. Aitractive opportunity for Tigh ng and other special courses. S. ic ILLINOIS, Jacksonville, Box E. WOMAN'S COLLEGE. School graduates. Degree of f B.S. id Teacher's and Supervisor's certificate granted. For catalogue address Secretary, Box A. Frances Shimer School = SARATOGA SPRINGS, N. Y. For Girls and Young Women. 8 modern buildings. 35 acres. Early enrollment Ser. corm opening in Sep- —Lewisburg Seminarv— ber imperative. College department two Han with diploma. Four years ccademny work. Home ewisburg Seminary hon Now cot on Music. Art. Secretarial and Teachers courses. For Girls. In the mountains near White a year. Catalog, address Sulphur Springs, Main line C. & O.R. R Res, WE. —2300 ft. altitude. College prepara- Illinois : tory. Elective courses. Two years of collegework. Music, Art, Home Economics and Expression. Terms $400. Catalog on request. Address LEWISBURG 20 for and address | Russell fe son-Hudson N.Y 58th Year “Highest Virginia Standards” $600 SOUTHERN COLLEGE WALNUT LANE rd Year Oldest Pe Girls in Philadelphia Located in one of the most beautiful residential sections of the United States, the students enjoy the freedom and athletics of the country combined with the cultural advantages of the city. WATERBURY, CONN. Founded 1875 IDEAL: Development of well poised personality through I ocated in one of the most beautiful ond healthful intellectual, moral, social and physical training. spots New d. College paratory, COURSES: High School/Graduate; College Preparatory ; urses Arts, Languages, General Academic ; Music Conservatory ; ‘Cultural and Practical. Ball gud Swimmiag. 's0-acre school farm, Umber ||| Junior Colle and Finishing Courses Expreaion Short Story Writing Wome field.” gives unusual opportunities for sports, AND TOUNG WOMEN Violin Secretarial Interior Decoration, Frene cludin, ating, snowshoeing, etc Harp Sewing First Ald to Injured Speatsh put their Domestic Science teachings into actual ractice. One hour from Hartford or ‘New Haven. Science, Soc ATHLETICS: Horseback Riding; Swimming; Basket nd for catalog and views. Gymnasium ‘ennis, Basketball. Students ball; Tennis; Country Tramping; Dancing; Military Drill. tr Miss Emily Gardner Munro, A, M., Principal A:M-, 908 College Potersberg. Ve. MISS S. EDNA JOHNSTON, A.B., Principal, Box Germantown, Phila, Penna. The school you have been iooking for is listed in this number. in- and ion, ut- ty- Pa | — _ _

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Schools for Girls and Colleges for Women 9 Lindenwood College For Young Women _ St. Charles, Mo. Founded 1827. A college that stands for sound scholarship, Christian ideals, and thorough prepara- tion for the useful life. True educational environment. Two-million dollar endowment enables Lindenwood to offer the best in education, equipment, and buildings. 50 — from St. Louis. 4-year courses conferring . A. and B.S. degrees. 2-year courses conferring A. x degree. Exceptional vocational home economics and Secretarial Courses. Degree Courses in Music. Gymnasium, swimming pool. Catalog. Address J. L. Roemer. D. D., Pres., Box Al. St. Charles. Mo. RYDAL school for limited number of » 4 years. Teacher of strong perso iad experience in charge. Catalog. ‘Address Miss Abby A. Sutherland, Rydal, Montgomery Co., Pa. Th Abb Founded 1893. An exceptional resi- € Y dence school. Unusual _ personal, educational and social opportunities and advantages. Interesting elective courses of study. Enrollment limited. Reservations received for t Fall season, Apply to REGISTRAR. ISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, Washington. 3100 16th St. N.W. Chevy Chase School iar the girl of Courses: Preparatory; two-year high school graduates; special. Unrivalled location at the national capital. For catalog, address FREDERIC ERNEST FARRINGTON, Ph.D., Headmaster. D. C., Washington, Chevy Chase School, Box C. Gunston Hall A School for Girls. Established 1892. Colter Bea atory. Post-graduate and business courses. Science. Required Athletics under trained Mrs. BEVERLEY R. MASON, Principal. DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, Washington, 1918 Florida Ave. School for Young Women and Girls. Madison Hall 15th year under present manage- ment. College and special courses. pr atory courses in Music. Art, Expression, Modern Languages, Domestic Business Course. Individual GEO. F. WINSTON, LL.B., Mrs. GEO. F. WINSTON, A.M., D. G., Washington, 3053 P St., N. Prin neipals. Martha Washington Seminary Junior Coliess’ Course (2 years) for High School Graduates. Normal and General Course in Domestic Science. Secre- tarial branches. Music, French, Spanish. EDWAR’ D W. THOMPSON, Principal. DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, W. Darlington Seminary A DEVELOPING school for girls, delight- fully situated on a sixty-acre estate in Pennsylvania’s finest country. Courses: Col- lege Preparatory; Elective Academic; Spec al (Post-graduate) courses in Music; Busine is Secretaryship. Art. Domestic Science Art. Expression. Physical Education. by Athletics. Moder- ate rates. For catalog and a copy of ‘‘Dar- lington Views” address CHRISTINE F. BYE, Principal Box 600 A school for girls, offering a broad Ashley Hall variety of courses, including prep- aration for entrance to the best women’s colleges. Beauti- ful old estate, 4 acres, with modern oe. ero advantages in so climate. Cata- logue on request. MARY VARDRINE MCBEE, M.A.. SouTH CAROLINA, Charleston. Principal. Founded 1884. Boarding and Day Hosmer Hall School for girls. College preparatory and Elective Courses. Music, Expression, Arts, Craits, Rhythmic dancing. Resident Physical director. Modern fire- building near Washington University. Early registra- ion necessary. For catalog address ELMA H. BENTON, A.M., MISSOURI, St. Louis, Wydown Boulevard. Principai. Miss White's School For Girls. Boarding and Day Departmen September 15,1920. For = MARY JOSEPHINE WH Missourt!. St. Louis, 4140 B Boul FOR YOUNG WOMEN Box Z, Roanoke, Va. Located 9 Valley ot Virginic., famed for health and beauty of Preparatory College arv sfia e Art, Expression, A COUNTRY SCHOOL FOR GIRLS Near Philadelphia and Lge York and American In- General, College, and_ Secretarial Super- Courses. Two Years Post Graduate Work. Ex- athletics. ceptional advantages in Music, Art and French. Students from 32 Domestic Science Courses. Gymnastics and Out- states. For cata- oor Sports. New building with gym jum. One log address teacher to every five girls. A catalogue and Book Mattie P. Harris of Views will be sent upon request. : esident MRS. JOHN FEARNLEY, Principal : Mrs. Gertrude Harris Boatwright, Vice-President Box 415, Burlington, New Jersey i E 309 W. 72d St., at Riverside Drive Seven buildings. HIGH and finishing. POST GRADUA for older Domestic Science, 1-year course with diploma. ) Community Service, a new profession com pining Se serenerinl Social Welfare work and Ameri- canization. No entrance examinations. Graduates of this course are also qualified for high grade secretarial positions. Gymnasium, swimming, etc. Attractive dormitories; like college wt Address Miss C. 8. SCUDDER, New York City, N. Y. Accredited Junior College" Kansas City’s nearest Women’s Colle Specialized courses in Music, Art, pression, Science, Literature and Dennen. tic Science. Select For cata- log and viewbook, ad 7. M. WILLIAMS, AM. DD., State Street, 50. Hardin College and Conservatory A Junior College for Women. Two years’ work at : Hardin receives the same credits as Freshmen and Sopho- Gia more years in universities. Hardin is heavily endowed and ae offers exceptional advantages in Music: Piano, voice, violin, organ, Art, Expression. For catalog addr ISSOURI, Mexico, Box 95. FOR GIRLS AND YOUNG WOMEN In Blue Ridge Mountains, rare healthrecord. \ Rockford College f oe College Preparatory. Special for High School “a omestic Science; Business; attention North Central ‘and of Y to manners, character. S ; Large grounds. Member Students from every section. Rate, $525. Catalog. the Association ot PH. D., Pres. SOUTHERN SEMINARY, Box 918, Buena Vista, Va. ILLINOIS, Rockford, 442 College Avenue. Martha Washington College Abingdon, Va. Founded in 1853, and having maintained through all her history a high course of study, this College is not only one of the oldest, but also one of the best in Virginia. Matriculation numbers over 6000, alumnae over 500, representing every Southern State. Ten Russell Sage Colle je acres of beautiful campus. Altitude 2175 feet— Founded by Mrs. Rucedll Sane in connectio health record unsurpassed. Faculty of University h Emma Will oS h trained teachers. Courses of study up-to-date and a ard School instruction thorough. Fifteen units required for ad- Py Ps hool of Practical Arts mission into the Freshman Class. Best advantages Designed for the higher education of wom in Music, Art, Expression and Household Economics. rticularly On vocational and professional lines. Parenw. cannot find a better place to educate their r or Household onomics and In- daughter. For catalog and book of views, write RUSSELL SAGE COLLEGE TROY,N. Y. \ CHARLES C. WEAVER, President, Box 238, Abingdon, Va. j There is one schovi best adapted to you. Why not ASK COSMOPOLITAN? in- nd on, | ty- Pa f if West Chester, Pa. 42 ure pt. 55 | 25. Miss Mason’s School for Girls ooo On the Hudson, 45 minutes from New ! | York. Graduate, preparatory, special, vo- | - | cational departments. Separate school for | ed little girls. Summe ~* ee cational training. F MISS C. E. he _Box 700 Tarr d il One of the leading schools in the South. Modern n. e t. | under the direc- | x ; —

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Schools for Buys Suffie and athletic fields. Y.M.C.A. business, scientific schools. Intimate care of each boy. 87th year. morals. Attractive New En: zland town, congratulate rou on honed tradi- 3% hours from New York City. Complete _ tion which surrou school. More and 3° more we are making preparatory schools equipment, modern buildings, gymnasium _ into communities like those English schools. Strong athletics. A thorough preparation for college, department for young boys. House mother. HOBART G. TRUESDELL, A. M., Principal, 11 Main Street, Suffield, Connecticut A Military School for Boys training of brain, body and Ex-President William H. Taft Says: Manchester, Rugby, Eton, where the boys are given the ideas of Manliness, straightlorward- ness, decency of life. what you have cultivated here at Sufiel id Active advisory Separate Extrect from Speech to Suffield Alumni, June oth, 1915. exce: 14 High School units required for admission. Applicants must be 16 years old. Expenses limited to actual cost. For catalog address Col. O. J. BOND, Superintendent Located in the pisturesque South. Rated by War Dept. as “ Distin- guished Military College.” Senior unit TA DEL mits open air work all the year. Unsw for military lence an’ esprit. Noted as an engineer- ing school for three quar- ters of a century. En- ineering, Scientific, and iberal Arts courses confer B.S. and degrees. R.O.T.C. Mild cli nate per- RVING ‘Old Dominion Academy | Robert Allen’s Preparatory School for Boys, 7 to 16. Semi-military. At health resort in mountains of W.Va. 100 miles from Washington, D. C. Limited to 60. Reasonable | rates. Catalog. Address E. ALLEN, Supt. | ley ox A | SCHOOL for Boys | West V Berkeley Springs, B | Tarrytown-on-Hudson, N. Y- 25 miles from New York, in the beautiful, historic “Irving” country. 84th year. 29 years under present Head Master. New site and buildings, 1904. Prepares for all oonenes and technical schools. Individual as well class instruction. Equipment includes Athletic Field. Gymnasium and Swimming Pool. Address J. M. FURMAN, A. M., Head Master, Box 915 ACADEMY FOR BOYS 44 th year. 15 acres. building: » Maximum college preparation Individual instruction. Mil- itary and Manual training. Gymnasium. Sw imming THE PRINCETON TUTORING SCHOOL e tutor but do not cram’ STUDENTS prepared for the June an tember Entrance Examinations of all Colles , The School is open throughout the year. eee mission may be made at any time provided that the School autborities feel that the re- quired subjects may be thoroughly reviewed in time for the examinations For Caen, terms and desired informatior. addre: New Jersey, Princeton JOHN G. HUN, Ph. D. Pool. Exceptional advan- tage: in Orchestra and Band Music. Write for Catalog. tc B. PRICE, Ph.D., Principal, Owatenna, Minn. FARMINGTON MAINE. For Boys Rates $1200 Fall Term Opens Sept. 29th Emphasizes Health--Happiness-- Achievement General athletics, winter’ sports, camping trips, mountain climbing. THEODORE ROOSEVELT owed kis fine physical vigor to the months he lived in Maine while a yong boy. Catalog on request. Only boys of general good health admitted. Branham & Hughes Military Academy 27th Year The school you can send your boy to and be sure you have made the right choice. Highest grade preparatory and general courses. This Academy has always been noted for its exceptionally strong faculty — all college graduates specialized in boy training and development. Inspiring location. Best moral surroundings. $450 includes everything. It will pay you to read our catalogue. Branham & Hughes Military Academy SPRING HILL, TENN. BOX 3 Allen Military School A country, college preparatory school, 9 miles from Boston, The group system prevails. Gym- nasium, swimming pool, concrete rink, and three athletic fields. Upper and Lower Schools. THOMAS CHALMERS, A.B., D.D., Director 425 Waltham St., West Newton, Mass. New Mexico Military Institute A state-owned school in the heart of the vigorous, aggres- sive West that is developing the highest type of manhood. Ideal conditions — bracing air, sun- shine, dry climate. Altitude— 3700 feet. Preparatory and Junior College. Reserve Offi- cers Training Corps. Address COL. JAS. W. WILLSON, Supt. Box E Roswell, New Mexico DEERFIELD ACADEMY Is an endowed school true to the old traditions of rugged scholarship, 4moral training, and con- siderate manners. It has Athoroughly modern gequipment, and offers ‘college preparatory and Especial courses. Colleges accept certificate. Expe- rienced faculty. Stim- Bulating outdoor life—all athletic sports. Situated @iin the quaint, historic Founded Village of Old Deerfield, this school is peculiarly Endowed. School adapted to the whole- some development of the boy’s in- dividuality. For views and year book address: THE PRINCIPAL 19 Albany Road, Deerfield, Mass. Read here the messages of America’s progressive schools. CD? | Vi, | | Founded 1842 CHARLESTON, S. C. =e 7 | > | 4) |

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MILITARY INSTITUTE, DAYTO! ‘OHIO sear DAYTON, Where right habits of living and thought are instilled in the boy. Promptness, respon- sibility, self-reliance and willing obedience become traits of Miami Military character. High Academic Srmadends. Small classes, individual at- tention to each student. Boys are taught how to study Competent faculty. All athletics. Collegiate courses. Prep- 3. Army opens ember, 1920. Early application advised. For catalogue address COL. ORVON GRAFF BROWN, Pres. RECREATIONAL SUMMER CAMP July 5 to August 28 Academic tutoring and military training under our regular Rag: 188 School, Courses. 200 Send for booklet. CONNECTICUT, Lakeville. gs School for and College Preparatory farm, fully equipped. Outdoor sports, F. B. Riccs, Headmaster. Prepares for Any College Faculty, equipment and methods which make capable boys eligible for entrance anywhere. 4104 Connecticut Avenue (Suburbs), Washington, D.C. Cottage plan—boys and masters live together. Excellent table, school operates its own farm. Splendid dee po and athletic field. Small classes. Special course for entrance to National Academies. Catalogue and View Book on request. Mount Pleasant Academy FOUNDED 1814 REPUTATION. An old school with a progressive policy. Has foe tg and develo boys in char- acter, mind and body by a system involving personal attention of qualified instructors. Takes pride in its quiet but continuous achievement of over a century training of usefulness. SCOPE. Prepares boys for business activity or entrance to ranking colleges and universities. Prac- tical military instruction in conjunction with field work. Efficient and constructive methods of physical training ov lemented by athletic sports. FACILITIES. Admirably situated on the high- lands of the Hudson, thirty miles from New York. Complete with modern buildings and apparatus. Per- fect co-ordination between various departments. A school home with an ideal environment. Address, FREDERIC CHARLES K BRUSIE. Box 513, Ossining-on-Hudson, N. Y. ys to become men of integrity and UR young men should be prepared for the great opportunities of the future. Place your boy in a school where the dominant aim is the development of character and manliness. A strong ecg A gives close personal attention to each boy. Sound learning and an active, athletic. outdoor life are the result. Situated in the foothills of the Watchung Mountains, near New York and Philadelphia. Prep- aration for college and techni- cal schools. Business Courses. Moral atmosphere. Modern Gymna- sium and Swimming Pool. Moving Pictures. Resident Nurse. New Infirm- ary. Moderate rates. 82nd year opens Sept. 22nd. Early registration desirable. Address FRANK MacDANIEL, sgh Headmaster Box 10, Pennington, N. WENTWORTH MILITARY ACADEM LEXINGTON, MO. ESTABLISHED 1880 Separate School for Small Boys COL. S. SELLERS, Supt. HIGH GRADE preparatory school for boys of good char- acter. Thorough scholastic instruction in small classes. Accredited by leading universities and colleges. Military instruction under regular U. S. Army officer and World War veterans. New gymnasium unusually large and complete. instructors. Every student takes active part in competitive athletics. and outdoor swimming pools. tennis courts. For Catalog of Academy or circular of School for Small All athletics under trained Indoor Grit 43 Miles from Kansas City. oys, address 1817 Washington Ave. Lexington, Mo. Character Scholarship MI LI ARY Each boy is taught how to study. work and recreation and sound Address COL. T. D. LANDON, es, capable minds and cheerful dispositions. Individual Attention of catalog INSTITUTE Supervised athletics, wholesome food, carefully negate’ daily THE CASCADILLA SCHOOLS Collegiate Preparatory School for Bo Specializing in College or University pronaration. Small el Individual attention. ‘athletics : Recreation building ane athletic field on Lake Cayu- a; full navy outfit. Healthtully snd beautifully located above Ithaca and Lake Cayuga. Certifi- cate privilege. Apply now for 1920. Summer Sehool.Specializing in prepara- on for University Entrance Examinations. Two terms: mid-July to September Special Tutoring Sehvol. The year round. High-grade instruction in all preparatory sub jects. Ex enced fac- ulties we 7 Schools. Write for catalogs. Director, DRUMMOND, M. A., Box 102, Ithaea, N. Waynesboro, Virginia 41st year. New $100,000 fireproof building. A modern high-standard school located in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Small classes of not more than 10 cadets to each teacher secure individual atten- tion for every boy. business life. Prepares for universities and Rate $600. Catalogue. Annual ring encampment. ajor Morgan H. R.O. T. C. Principal, Box 401 under U.S, War Dept. Military School Blue Ridge School upward. session provide all-y: ear home and school. Sessio’ ¥or ad Drawer C-5, Bordentown, N. J. Shattuck School College Preparatory, Military, Episcopal. Application should be filed now for the year ie Sto enter when 14 ‘= 15 years of age. Catalogue and View Book on reques MINNESOTA, Faribault. The Seale Academy (Military) In this school are combined the spirit of the West and the thoroughness of the East. Grammar and High School. Fifteen-acre Campus. Climate perfection. GRENVILLE C. EMERY, Headmaster. CALIFORNIA, Palo Alto. Healthfully and Pasadena Military Academy cated in Sunny Southern California. Outdoor sports the en- tire year. Truly military and athletic, but specialem on scholarship and character training. Begins with grade and carries work through high school courses. CALIFORNIA, Pasadena, R.F.D.2,Box12. THE Supt. Palo Alto Military Academy A school exclusively for boys from six to fifteen. No high school. Homelike, but with thoro military training. Se study and recrea- ‘OLONEL, Superintendent. “Sisweuna, Palo Alto, P. O. Box 138. for Boys. Select, st school for boys 9 y Ideally located in delightful, healthful \oimate: homelike, refining influences. Summer camp and r nal fee dress ORTH CAROLINA, Hendersonville, BOx 365. Powder Point School Will Understand Your Boy —and help him to understand himself. Thorough instruction Clean, snappy athletics for every boy. Clearest understand- ing between boys and masters. Pre- pares for college and gives strong general course. Ages 10 to 19. Number limited to sixty. Boys must fur- nish evidence of good character. Unique loca- tion on seashore, Conven- ient to Boston. Address RALPH K. BEARCE, A.M. Training, also Pool. envied Headmaster from 18 states an ‘oreign countries last y All sports. Out-of-doors the year round. A 71 Kin Cotter Road broader preparation than the public school can Duxbury, Mass. give. Catalog. Rev. Walter Mitchell, D. D., Rector, fm Box F, Charleston, 8. 0. J ASK COSMOPOLITAN. Schools for Boys Se, If | 7 aration for Government Academies, Higher Colleges, Universities and Business. | | | | \ who. want’ “it 2 a N ~ @ “A \ | bad THE ARMY AND NAVY PREPARATORY SCHOQ| | | | | Cs } bd a Sa Ce PENNINGION SCHOOL || ademy4 | + : | Do you wish to know

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I2 Schools for Boys KEMPE Junior and Senior R. O. T. C. MILITARY SCHOOL HEALTHY out-of-doors life combined with a strict attention to scholastic work has placed Kemper in the front rank of the nation’s military schools. thoroughly modern dormitories, and daily super- vised play and athletics keep the trim. Kemper is the oldest boys’ school in the West and for seventy-five years has stood for all that is best and most virile The Kemper boy is a good citi- zen, equipped with initiative, torce and independence. trance, colleges, and universities which accept certificates. Ideal living conditions are assured by body in perfect in Americanism. En- without examination, to all For catalog address Col. T. A. JOHNSTON, Supt. 712 Third Street, Boonville, Missouri West Graduates admitted to leading Universities wit hout examination. New Academy BLACKSTONE, VIRGINIA rsonal supervision of students. buildings and complete gymnasium. Full commercial courses. Tuition $525.00. For catalogue address Col. E. 8. Ligon, President, Box A, Blackstone, Virginia. Military Academy OUR boy at Nazareth Hall will be sur- rounded with the influences that develop manly character. Boys live in er companies under supervision ie instructors. Complete equipment. Gymnasium, Basketball, Baseball. ennis, Skating, Skiing and Coasting. Military system in- promptness, order and lence, ation near Bethlehem and Easton. College Preparatory, Busi- ness and General Courses, New Junior Department in separate building. te $600. Come and visit the school. Address REV. A. D. | x 10, Nazareth, {Carson Long Institute | | 82nd year. A home school for boys | 6 buildings, 18 acres in the healthful foothills of the Blue Ridge. Individual ari personal instruc- tion—how to learn, how to labor, how to live. Our aim is know ledge, character, culture, efficiency. College Preparatory, Business, Junior Courses, Spanish, French, Public Speaking. Separate building for boys under 13 years. Strong religious but non-sectarian influence. Low charges due to endowment and buying supplies direct from farmers. $400 and up; Juniors $375. For further details, address CARSON LONG INSTITUTE, Hox A, NNA. INFANTRY CAVALRY NEW YORK MILITARY ACADEMY Cornwall-on-Hudson, N. Y. CADET BAND (Special Rates to good Musicians) For catalogue write to the Commandant The Largest Military Preparatory School in the East MODERATE EXPENSES FIREPROOF BUILDINGS “Tolar Ciycademy AReal Boy's School oi the technical s_ hool, Box C, BLAIRSTOWN, N. J. Administration Building Liberally endowed and thoroughly equipped for boys who are able and disposed to take ad antage unusual opportunities offered. General educat: and preparation for any college or A catalog will be mailed upon request, but a visi. for personal inspection is more satisfactory. JOHN C, SHARPE, LL.D., Headmas*‘er SCHOOL FOR BOYS Founded 1841 Organized for the development of character. Directed work and play. Preparatory for college or scientific school. Ample buildings and play fields. Junior School for Boys from ten to fourteen. A distinct school in a building of itsown. Un- der the care of a house father and mother. Rates $450-$900 ARCHIBALD V. GALBRAITH, Principal Box F, Easthampton, Mass. ‘ for Boys. ** Maki Chatham Training School In Piedmont section on mainline of Southern Ry. Pai rental care and thorough instruction under Christian influences. Academic. Commercial. Military training. Gra‘uatesad- mitted to all colleges. New buildings, Reasonable terms. VIRGINIA, Chatham. A. H. CAMDEN, President. Willow Brook Academy foreiidren Offers thorough physical, mental, moral, military and musical training for college or business. Under Christian masters. ae ane at the base of the Blue Ridge near Washington, Modern equipment. Healthful. Scenery beautiful. J. C. BEATY, Headmaster. hadr ress VIRGINIA, Bluemont. The Massanutten Military Academy School for boys, in beautiful Shenandoah valle: Prepares for college and business. Music, oe Limit 0 100 i., New 25,000 Dining Hall and Dormitory. boys. $475. Howarp J. BENcHOoFr, A.} VIRGINIA, Woodstock, Box 1 EEKSKILL MILITARY ACADEMY 88th year. Army Officers Detailed R.O. T.C. $100,000 Upper House. Separate building for young boys (7-13). “If you wish to make sure of your son's scholastic as well as military training, choose Peekskill.’—The late Maj. Gen. Bell’s advice to parents, Address J.C. BUCHER, A. M., or C. A. ROBINSON, Ph. D., Principals, Peeks«ill, N. Y. Trustees: Louis F. Swift, J. V. H.C. lor, Clayton Mark Baker Rev. J. K. Carpenter, J. sey, Stanle; Paimer, C. - D., Ernest ons Rev. Andrew C. Zenos. 4 The ing Lake Forest Academy for Boys College Preparatory—Not a Military Institution Preparatory Education as thorough as can be found East or West. Heltpul Soeeeien between faculty and students. Honor ideals. Right kind of boys. Clean living. Scholastic work is recognized by Eastern and Western colleges as equal to that of any preparatory school. Gradu- ates admitted to all institutions East or West which admit without examination. Definite preparation for entrance examinations of Yale, Princeton, Harvard, Mass. Inst. of ‘ec. Beautiful country location on Lake Michigan, one hour north of Chicago. Modern buildings, gymnasium, swimminge-pool. Scientific physical training. All athletics. Aim distinctively educational. Not maintained for profit. Annual charges $950. Catalog covers details. For copy address JOHN WAYNE RICHARDS, Headmaster Box 118, Lake Forest, Ill, IRIVERSIDE A military academy of the highest grade, fifty miles north of Atlanta, in healthful Blue Ridge section. Cadets from 28 states last session. Special preparation for West Point and Annap- olis. R. O. T. C. unit. Two West Point gradu- ates on faculty. Elegant living quarters; 60-acre campus; government-bullt target-range; aquatics; golf; close personal supervision; individual instruc- tion; compulsory gymnasium work: all athletics; expenses moderate; limited accommodations. For catalogue address RIVERSIDE, Box C, Gainesville, Georgia | If you fail to find your needs supplied why not ASK COSMOPOLITAN? | a | —— Blackstone | | | | | | |

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Columbi MI TARY ACADEM; YA UILDINGS, campus and equipment valued at half a million. Nationally recognized as one of the country’s lead- ing Military Schools. Trains for college or for business life. Boys last year from 26 states. Reserve Officers Training Corps. For catalogue write COLUMBIA MILITARY ACADEMY Box 203 Columbia, Tenn. “Built By U.S. Government” Chauncy Hall School Established 1828. Pre typares b boys exclusively for Massa- chusetts Institute of Technol ony and other scientific schools. Every teacher a t. YRANKLIN T. KuRT, Principal. MASSACHUSETTS, Boston, 549 Boylston St. (Copley Sq .) Wilbraham Academy Fits for life and for college work. single rooms cf A school for 60 boys— Yearly expense $800. LorD D. DouGLass, A.M., Headmaster. MASSACHUSETTS, Wilbraham, Bethlehem Bethlehem, Pa. 1600 boys prepated for universitics ears. U pad Atlethic grounds. Rea- le rates. Separate Junter School. Catalog. Separate JOHN C. TUGGEY, M.A Headmaster’ RANDOLPH-MACON ACADEMY FRONT ROYAL, VA. Military Training CLOSE study of the boy’s peculi- arities—his temperament—his ability—his courage and his ambitions him for his peyeet place in Front Royal is one of the Macon System of Schools. Its surround- ings are inspirational and of high educa- tional advantage. Thorough prepara- tion for College or Scientific Schools. Also prepares for business life. Intellectual, moral and physical de- velopment combined with military training fit the boy for the needs of the times. Modern buildings, gymnasium and spacious grounds for all outdoor sports. $450. 29th session opens Sep- tember 21, 1920, For catalog address CHARLES L. MELTON, A.M., Principal Box 404, Front Royal, Va. The right school? Schools for Boys 13 Best equipped private boys’ library, labo! diameter—to be erected before rate Junior School for younger boys. HEIGHT school in South. class-room ATTENTION scholarship, clean s —academy ideal. clal courses, Certificate admits to leading universities North and South. MIL I- oa TARY DEPARTMENT UNDER DIRECT SUPERVISION OF THE GOV- §. oe al ERNMENT. For handsomely illustrated catalog address Box 77. COL. L. L. RICE, President, ACAD E MY Eleven Buildings with excellent Mo Mathodrome—150 feet in y of fifteen theme D CLOSE SUPER- Classical, linguistic, scientific, commer- Lebanon, Tennessee property embraces nine substantial buildings: supplies perfect drinking water. mother. tion. Tuition $500. In writing to Col. L. catalog, specify Junior School, Box 77. ‘CASTLE HEIGHTS JUNIOR SCHOOL. Located in the country three miles from railroad; removed from drug stores, soda founts, movie shows. corner groceries and other loafing centres. Environment absolutely whole- some, rendering discipline of boys from seven to fourteen years of age relatively easy. School bowling alley, recitation rooms, infirmary, on a 200 acre plot. Hours of work and play carefully tempered to young boys. Much out-door exercise including hikes through the woods. Carefully selected faculty. Steam-heating and electric lighting. Modern sanita- Dormitories, dining hall, gymnasium, library, Wonderful chalybeate spring Trained nurse and house- L. Rice, Lebanon, Tennessee, for Illustrated For 90 Select YOUNG BO A school with the personal touch. Just enough military training to inculcate habits iness and sel liance. One teacher to ten boys. The students’ comforts, pleasures and sports are as carefully considered as thei mental traini Healthful location. miles from N. *, 66 miles from Phila. For catalog address MAJOR CHAS, M, DUNCAN, Bex 74, Freehold, N. J. study, in open air School. Enter at any —-. High elevation, in quiet New England v mete. Farm ining in conjunction with Summer Camp. $500.00. All expense of School year. Special terms for entire Calendar year. THE PRINCIPAL. AINE, West Lebanon. nior a; depart- instruction in college pre paratory general urses. New fireproof buildings with Cottage dormitory field. N, H PENNSYLVANIA, Box 3 nil Mercersburg, Pa Alm of the Seh ol A thor- ough physical, mental and moral training for college or business, Spirit—A manly tone of self-reliance, under Chris- tian masters. a) at- tention to each e famous Cum- berland Vv alley, one of the Sass tena and health- lern a complete, i fund. ite for catalogue and “The Spi hat Box 108 WILLIAM MANN IRVING. LL. D Headmaster. ENNESSEE Boys from 40 states and 3 foreign The Best Known School. Thorough academic work. spirit of M. I. inspires boys their best achievement. Rated School by Southern Commis- sion on Acc ited Schools. Out- door drill and exercises possible all year. Unit oO. T. Cc. tories, swimming pool. All ‘athletics. Catalog. Address COL. R. Superintendent, Box 313 Sweetwater, Tennessee One of the four fires has exc prost barracks, Drill all in lower panel. WESTERN Senior and Junior R. 0. T. C. school where scholastic attainment is the goal. Boys thoroughly prepared for mm i... technical schools, and for business. For over ay years th the values of military training and supervised athletics in work of the highest standing Each day at Western has its military activities; supervised study and class recitations, manly sports and recreation—football, basketball, bowling, swimming, baseball, tennis, golf, track. ur ideals and methods satisfy both the energies and ambitions of the per, and the demands of discriminating ed our capacity. For catalog and view-book COLONEL GEO. D. EATON, Supt. MILITARY ACADEMY school has used contributing to academic Annual enrollment continuously for 16 years ber is necessary. arents. riy application for entrance in Septem address Box 22, Alton, Ill. MAJOR R. L. JACKSON, Prin. ASK COSMOPOLITAN to help you find it. | { VISION DAY AND NIGHT. Boys trom ty-one admitted. Sepa- | ~ | | | | FREEHOLD MILITARY SCHOOL | —— universities. Scholarships | Swimming Pool and exten- f IM| ( | ILITARY | NSTITUTE | | _ |

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Schools for Boys season, by spec! and athletic fi acre campus. ccredited by ont univ: Divisions of R. O. T. C. Ear! KENTUCKY MILITARY INSTITUTE The only school that owns and operates two distinct train and with no interruption of stu Excellent ———_ embracing up-to-date laboratories and work shops, modern building: Outdoor work all winter. sea bathing, boating, lishing and healthful outdoor exercise during the Winter months. ersities. Designated Honor School by the War saeurtenent. Junior and Senior ly registration necessary; waiting list last three years pe The Secretary, Kentucky Military Institute, Ly Kentucky. dice, With a Winter Home in Florida its, moving from one to the other, — eel to the Honor system applied by student s, large parade ground New cantonment in Florida, where boys enjoy LAWRENCE PARK. Aschool with an unusual record for quickly preparing boys for college. Individual assist- ance toeach boy saves from one to two years. Over 1000 boys have been prepared for colleges and schools. tary drill by Avenue. Give your boy the right start. Addi MASSEE COUNTRY SCHOOL BRONXVILLE, N. Y. Commuting Day Students from New York City. Junior Department. All sports. = y officer. Tutoring branch 507 F: ress W. W. MASSEE, Ph.D.. Headmaster, Box 100, Bronxville, N. Y. 1 ** Many Cosmopolitan readers sa Thank You when they have found the io the NEw YORK, New ork City, 119 W. 40th Street. Boarding Schools you are willing to spend, age of prospective pupil SMOPOLITAN EDUCATIONAL CLUB. NEw York, Times Square Station, Box 155 Do you wish our assistance in the choice of aschool? If you do not find one suited to your requirements advertised in the magazine, write tous. Give location, approximate amount Franklin and Marshall = LANCASTER, PA. Founded 1787 Prepares boys for all colleges and technical schools. Beautiful, elevated grounds. Excellent health record. Fine modern equipment. Library, Gymnasium. All athletics. Military Training for older boys. Old School on basis allowing moderate terms. Catalogue and lit- erature of interest to college —_—w students on Soin request. Box 420. Hartman, STAMFORD MILITARY ACADEMY A preparatory school that ursues sound educational methods and proviees a thorough training for mind and body. Located at Ship. pan Point on Long Islan ‘Sound, convenient to New York, the situation is ideal. Military tactics in the fresh invigorating air keep the bovs in the finest physical trim. Every power is bent toward the ment of each student. Classes are purposely small and boys are assured individual “ceaidurenian from every teacher. Instructors are chosen for their moral force as well a= for their skill The locality permits every kind of cere and the gymnasium is well equipped = ‘ail indoor exercise. Summer Cam For catalog a WALTER D. GERKEN, A.M., ee Shippan Point, Stamford, Co: PEDDIE A SCHOOL FOR BOYS | COLEMAN mouse will best train him for his _ in making a new civilization? Peddie boys are educated—trained in body, mind and character—not merely schooled. They lead ineo collegeand business not only becauseof what hey , but because of what they are. very Peddie boy is given a comprehensive physical examination. Every organ is tested and nose, t n. die all its income upon its students. Situated 9 — from a ton. Modern dormi- camp mnasium—baseball —tfoot ball—cinder track. care of the boys in case of ——_ Wr ie ‘or Booklet. nd Catalog ROGER W.S ETLAND, ‘TLD. Headmaster Box 7K, Hightstown, N. J PAGE MILITARY ACADEMY A Big School for Little Boys TH® LARGEST OF ITS CLASS IN AMERICA. Page Military Academy builds a firm foundation for a success- ful career. Everything adopted to meet the needs of small boys. Military training fosters ex- actness, cooperation, self-reliance and initiative. Large, modern build- ings: seven acre campus; seventeen resident teachers. Let our catalog tell you all about the school. ROBERT A. GIBBS, Headmaster, R.F.D. No. 7, Box 944, Los Angeles, Cal. Boys grow big and strong in California ~~ PENNSYLVANIA MILITARY COLLEGE has been defined as the sum of all one’s experi- * ences. How neces ary, then, that in the forma- tive period of boyhood those experience; should be such as to make for a forceful, trustworth ‘OPAL Ficademy AMERICAN RUGBY is a place where a boy must be ‘on time’’; where he learns to take pride in doing what he is told, when he is told; where he is required to be neat in appear- ance, orderly in his habits. and courteous in his demeanor. It is a place where character, strong, clean and dependable, is in the . Early application is in- perative for entrance next September. St. John’s Military Academy 4 Box 2G, Delafield, WaukeshaCo.,Wis. The Raymond Riordon School For Boys. natur: ny school that does things ina ‘Big Avay Prepares for college and does not forget the boy in his relation to Society, to civilization, ane to country. Booklet. NEw YORK, Highland. Cosmopolitan Recommends the coll tised in these pages, and you those which interest you. and camps adver- not hesitate to write Westchester Military Academy Academic, preparatory and business cow Prim. where young boys receive the t best of around ¢: Tui — moderate NELSON McLuRE, NEw YORK, Peekskill-on-Hudson, Box C. Do you wish ‘our assistanc Boys Schools the choice of a school? If not find one suited to your requirements adverti in the —MILF ORD A College Preparatory School FORMERLY THE ROSENBAUM SCHOOL Milford, Conn. 9 miles from New Haven on the main line to New York. The needs of each boy are analyzed and met. Thoro training for college examinations. Sm classes and individual instruction. Country life, supervised athletics. ir plan limits the number of boys we can accept each year. Tell us your needs and we will send you an outline plan of work, giving time required, cost, etc., for fitting for ‘college. klet on request. SAMUEL B. ROSENBAUM, Prin. Milford, Conn. HOWE A TEACHER FOR EVERY TEN BOYS Every Boy Recites Every Lesson Every Day Boys Taught How to Study itary Dr Graduates admitted to leading colleges on certifi- cates. Estate of 150 acres. g fine buildings. Thorough sanitation. Healthful country life. SCHOOL (ENDOWED) GRANTS DEGREES: Infantry Ae ivil Engineeri 6é Beautiful lakes. All athletic sports. Applications i. T R A I N Ss a Oo R x must be filed soon to secure a place for the next LEADERSHIP”? | academic Yea Large new armory, gymnasium, tile pool and indoor rifle range. Separate School for Younger Boys For illustrated catalogue address SEPARATE PREPARATORY SCHOOL FOR YOUNGER AND UPWARDS a soi Rev. J. H. McKenzie, L. H. D., Rector Col. CHARLES E. HYATT Box 124 Chester, Pa. Box 212, Howe, Indiana Each school has an individuality. Read its story carefully. iT 14 : | | | i | | | John's | | a oe 8c. you wish, age and sex of applicant, approximate location | - <7 : | ire to anen, parly are ic 7 | MAKE YOUR BOY FIT How can my boy be best fitted for theresponsibil- : | magazine, write to us. Give location, approximate amount | you are willing to spend, and age of prospective pupil and 5 | @ | | » ents. Mental powers are developed by expert | eachers._ Charac i | Ce Owe 001 Tor DOys from 11 to 14 years. Graduates enter all colleges by cer- tificate or examination. 55th year. An exception- | ’ | | | + =

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Marion Schools for Boys I5 Institute The Army and Navy College One of the most distinctive schools in America Superb equipment. 8o0-acre campus. Patronage from every state and territory of the Union and from foreign countries. Ideally located in the Appalachian foothills in the isothermal belt which the Government found most satisfactory for train- ing soldiers. Complete preparatory and college courses. Unlimited private tutoring without extra charge. Junior and Senior R. O. T. C. Complete equipment for military training. Tactical staff from the Army and U. S. Naval Academy. Army and Navy Department Coaching courses for entran-e examinations to Annapolis and West Point; College Courses to insure success and high rank in the Academies; Special Courses for competitive examinations for Appointment to Annapolis and West Point and Cadetships in the Coast Guard Academy. Over four hundred young men sent to the Government Academies during the War. In 1920 Marion men won appointments in every competitive examination they stood, and made 100% of successes on February entrance exam- inations to Naval Academy. Rates moderate. For catalog and information, address Col. W. L. Marfee, Pres. Marion, Alabama Onarga Military School A select home school for a limited number. J. E. BITTINGER, Superintendent. ILLINOIS, Onarga. Beautifull situated 85 miles south of Chicago. Four modern and well- equipped buildings. Close individual attention. Athletics. Claremont School For Boys Claremont, Cal. W. E. GARRISON, Ph.D., Headmaster, Box 260 One hour from Los Angeles. A School with the Ideals of Yale. Southern Cali- fornia climate. Continuous outdoor life in a setting of orange groves and snow capped mountains. Sleeping porches. Military training. Camping trips. All sports. For catalog address PRUTGERS PREPARATORY SCHOOL PROUD record of 154 years. Graduates A in every walk of life. Well-balanced courses. Our teachers develop studious, manly boys ready for any college, an bi jonshi Happy home life in beautiful dor- stating age and other particulars about your boy. WILLIAM P. KELLY, Headmaster Box 135, New Brunswick, N. J. 250 Boys ,000 Equipment 87th year opens Sept. 14th WORCESTER ACADEMY WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS RATES: single rooms. O two in room, Ages 12-18 years Alumni all over the world. Strictly preparatory for college or technical school. For catalog address the Registrar G. D, Church, M, A. SAMUEL F. HOLMES, M.A..,Principal 22 Teachers GEORGE SCHOOL shoot in the country, for boys ane STAUNTON MILITARY ACADEMY An Ideal Home School for Manly Boys 625 Boys from 47 States last session. Largest Private Academy in the East. Boys from 10to 20 years old prepared for the Universities, Government Academies or business. GOVERNMENT HONOR SCHOOL 1,600 feet above sea-level; pure, dry, bracing mountain air of the famous, proverbially healthful and beautiful Valley of the Shenandoah. Pure mineral spring waters. High moral tone. Parental discipline. Military training develops obedience, health, manly carriage. Fine shady lawns, expensively equipped gymnasium, swimming pool and athletic park. All manly sports encouraged. Daily drills and exercise in open air. Boys from homes of culture and refinement only desired. Personal, individual instruction by our tutorial system. Standards and traditions high. Academy 60 years old. $275,000 barracks, full equipment, absolutely fire-proof. Charges, S600. Handsome catalog free. Address COLONEL WM. G. KABEL, Ph. D., President, Staunton, Va. Intelligent, adequate supervision makes their association helpful. The result is respect of boy for girl and girlfor boy. It is a safer basis for after life. Courses of study broad and thorough. eh pupil's studies under personal supervision of rincipal. Faculty large and experienced. Graduates succeed in college. Special classes n Citizenship. Manual Training. Sanitation. First aid. Sewing. Cooking. Athletics, gymnasium, poo 227 acres of woods and open country on Neshaminy Creek. Rates moderate because of large endowment. For catalogue write to GEORGE A. WALTON, A.M., Principal, Box 281, George School, Pa. MORGAN PARK ACADEMY 14 miles from Chicago. Known for its thoroughness. Old- fashioned scholastic standards Credits reecgnized at all colleges. Teacher-conducted visits to Chieago’s mercantile, civic and industrial institutions with shop talKS and busi- ness men's lectures part of regular school work. Small classes. Individual care. Every boy enters playground trained directors. 2 Boy Scout troops COL. H. D. ABELLS, Supt., Box 100, Morgan Park, Illinois buildings. ness. High scholastic standards; strong faculty. Self- Character is formed by right habits of body and mind through methods that win the boy. Adjutant’s Aide. SWARTHMORE Preparatory School —and Your Boy a HERE is a school where the teach- CULVER, IND. ers are fired with enthusiasm for the INFINITE. POSSIBILITIES EACH INDIVIDUAL BOY! , It takes imagination to discover these possibilities. This ‘‘educational vision’? our men have. The road lies clear before us, and what we see we have written for you in “THE VISION OF SWARTHMORE” ask for it today W. P. TOMLINSON, M.A., Headmaster Box 4, Swarthmore, Pa. (11 miles from Phila.) ACADEMY Prepares for college, technical schools nd fo: busi- reliance and self-confidence are bred in Culver boys. THE TOME SCHOOL On the Susquehanna For information about this national boarding school for boys address MURRAY PEABODY BRUSH, Ph.D, Port Deposit Rates $1000 Pil Maryland New Swimming Pool The schools that advertise are the schools that are progressive. TA, | | | = | | | | | | | | | | + | | ‘ A | m Tobogga Slide | LA | 47) mitories and the best of food. Gym, swimming PAY ‘ pool, track, library, chapel. Owing to the limited U LVE 3 MILI TA RY number of new boys accepted, preference is given to Po | apolicants in harmony with the long established , ideals of the school. Write for illustrated catalog, ne 3 » = “3

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16 Schools for Boys ERKIOMEN SCHOOL FOR [NSTRUCTION i in smail groups—personal care. Over 50 —s cent. of our students are honor men and leaders at Yale, Harvard, Princeton. Pennsyivania, Lafayette, ge ‘enn State and others. Music, Oratory, Business and Agriculture. Scholarships. Separate Junior School with House Mother and constant Cp eg” Com; _— equipment. Carnegie Library. Gymnasium and 20-acre campus. All athletics. home life. le- some religious influence. Resident nurse. Not conducted for profit—moderate rates. talogue. OSCAR S. KRIEBEL, D.D., Principal BOX 106, PENNSBURG, PA. MILITARY ACADEMY Develops red-blooded American manhood, through carefully co-ordinated military and academ- ic training. uipment and faculty exceptional. Unit of Reserve Officers’ Training Corps, with Army Detail, by direction of the President of the United States. College Preparatory, Business and Music. Graduates admitted without examination to Univer- sities. ** Big Brother Plan”’ pk overnment brings boys into close personal touch with their instructors. New building for smaller boys. All Athletics, Debating and Literary Societies. Clee : Club, Band and Orchestra. Special terms to good KISKI A School for Boys ISKIMINETAS Springs School, af- fectionately known as KISKI, per- mits the boys to grow up out-of-doors. 200 acres of w highland over- looking river. Special preparation for college or technical schools. University certificate privileges. Individual attention through preceptorial System; outdoor sports under competent instructors. Fine moral tone throughout school. Several football and baseball fields. Tennis; golf course. Gymnasium. Swimming poo wling alleys. Schoo! owns its own farm and dairy. Rate $850. For catalog address box 814. DR. A. W. WILSON, Jr., President, Saltsburg, Pa. ilitary country school tor Newton Academy 50boys. Boys10 tol6preferred. 2hoursfrom N.Y.City. Beautiful, high, healthful lecation. 1000 feet elevation. Thorough preparation for culleze or business. Homelike. Horses and ponies for ty use. All sports. Mode . J., Newton, Box M. PHILIP 8. WILSON, ‘i M Prin. Wenonah Military Academy e. miles trom Philadelphia. Prepares for ag or busi- U. 8. Army Officer detailed. Special School for Suntors. Catalog. Dr. C. H. LoRENcE, President. {.AJOR CLAYTON A. SNYDER, Supt. New JERSEY, Wenonah, Box 403. BELLEFONTE ACADEMY 115th year. 4 buildings. Limited to 100 young men 15 years and upwards. 11 expert teachers. Individual at- tention. Students select subjects to fit chosen career. Princeton Preparatory School re school for boys over 14. Rapid progress. Limited number of pupils and freedom from rigid class organization. Excellent equipment and facilities. Special attention given to athletics and moral welfare. 46th year. NEw JERSEY, Princeton. J.B. FINE, Headmaster. OHNS MILITARY SCHOOL repares boys for college. Every modern facility for best mental, moral and physical training. Gymnasium. Athletic Field and Swimming Pool. A school small enough for every boy to receive individual attention. Junior Hall. Separate school for boys under 13. Address for catalog: WILLIAM RANNEY, A. M., Pd. D., Prin. Ossining- -on-Hudson, MOHEGAN Mohegan Lake School Military 4ist Year Near station 1 Kero Mail Route N. Y. and Chicago. Rates moderate. Catalog JAMES S HUGHES. 4.M.. Headmaster, Hellefonte, Pa. Danville Military r Institute Danville Virginia In the far-famed Piedmont Region. Unsur- passed climate. Prepares for colleges, uni- versities, business, and Government Acad- emies. Select patronage, strong faculty, home influences, modern equipment. De- »artment for small boys. Charges $550. No extras. Catalog, address Col. ROBERT A. BURTON, Supt., Box B- is taught to study, to concentrate, to apply himself. He is taught his mother tongue first and learns to write good letters and to figure. On this foundation we build and pre- ‘ pare for college or business. The attractive and superior training of our Reserve Officer: Training Corps breeds fine manners, Brig.-Gen. Wm. jnitiative, sense of duty, industry, Beautifully located on Mohegan Lake in the Highlands of the Hudson. Classes are small, giving teachers opportunity to study each boy. Thorough pre aration for col- lege, Technical Schooland Business. Certifi- cate privileges. Military drill, physical cul- ture, athletics. References as to character develops character and ‘puilds the Verbogk, Fest. body. Separate School for Young Box 17, Boys. Attractive Summer School. Manlius, N. Y. Send for booklet. required. Request illustrated A. E. LINDER, A. M., Princip Box 57, Mohegan Lake, Westchester” ® N. Y. | | | <P iiiere, a1 Saint John’s School, a boy | | i OHIO MILITARY INSTITUTE HisToRY—Eighty years of juninterrupted success in educating bors. Among former students were President Benjamin Harrison, Bisbop John M. Walden and Murat Halstead. ORGANIZATION—Academic, military and physical training de- partments under a faculty of college graduates. Certificate mits to colleges.. Department for boys from 8 to 14 years bas special equipment and teachers. No hazing, SAFEGUARDS—Only recc T + commandant gives per- One instructor to every nine boys. sonal attention to every boy. ATHLETiIC8—New Gymnasium, Athietic Field, Swimming Pool and Bowling Alleys witb intelligent directors LocaTion—Park-like estate in the most picturesque suburb of Cincinneti. 1000 feet above sea level. Combining healthful country life with refining influences of an artistic community. rite for Catalogue to A. M. HENSHAW, Supt., Box 44, College Hill, Cincinnati, Ohio ded boys tod We answer inquiries concerning schools. Capacity taxed annually. Early enroll- ment necessary. Catalogue. Address PRESIDENT, Mexico, Mo. | Write for infor- mation about Greenbrier A Presbyterial Military School Lewisburg, W. Va. An Bo Agree military boarding school where boys are y taught to meet life's responsibilities. Capacity or 120. boys. Large corps of instructors—all college graduates. A quiet, healthful location in a braci — 300 ft. altitude. On Main Line Brick buildings, gymnasium and _ athletic field. Terms $425. For illustrated catalogue address Col. H. B. MOORE, A. M., Principal, Box 15 The Mitchell Military Boys School A school that nopeele to the young American boy and the discriminating parent. Exponents of clean sport, fair play, and thorough work. Development and maintenance of health considered of first impor- tance. Military training adapted to the age of our boys. Preparatory to larger secondary schools. Equipment modern and complete. 100 acres stl ALEXANDER H. MITCHELL, Principal Box C, Billerica, Mass. Schools of Domestic Science THE BATTLE CREEK SANITARIUM SCHOOL of HOME ECONOMICS Offers two accredited courses — Dietitians, Teachers. Affiliation with the Sanitarium affords unusual opportunities for practical application; provides unexcelled laboratory facilities and many other exceptional advantages. Opportunity to Defray Part of Expense Students enjoy refined companionship, beautiful sur- roundings, healthful recreation ane development. Tuition and living expenses erate. More calls are received for graduates than can ‘be filled. Illustrated pros- pectus upon request. Registrar, Box 40, Battle Creek, Mich. Why not ask COSMOPOLITAN? & MISSOUDI a | | | Summer School (

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Schools of Domestic Science Business Schools 17 THE Garland School of Homemaking special school which qualifies girls to preside overand ee ordesed vod One and two- hom ses under s; teachers books and board for Write for illustrated prospectus. CLEM For sixty years the leading American Business College. T;ains thoroly for Office Work and obtains employment for students who can be recommended for efficiency and good character. Intensive vocational courses in Accounting, Business, Civil Service, Secretarial and other studies teading to dignified positions, good acyeuceee a high school or college education. perienced, efficient, faithful teachers. Teal | Toeation. Moderate expenses. $185 pays total cost of tuition, Exceptional tor self-help to men and women of the right sort. ENT C. ‘AINES. M. LL.D., Box 655, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. salaries, rapid promotion, and the best chance to use to Strong lecture courses. ude Child y, Family a Food and its Preparation, Income and Cost of Liv- ing, Furnishings, ening: , Serving of Meals, Stories Hand Work for Children and many other vital home subjects. Also shorter elective courses. Res- ident students direct the Home-Houses (City and Suburban) under supervision, putting into prac- tice principles taught. Catalog on request. Address Mrs. MARGARET J. STANNARD, Director 2 Chestnut Street, Boston, Mass. Babson Institute Training Men to Become Business Executives. actice Economics. Financial M Personal EMedency. Address H. LANGDON PRATT, Bocretesy. MASSACHUSETTS, Wellesley Hills, 356 Washington S Burdett College Two-Year Resident Course in Business Administration. Young men trained for executive positions. Graduates Lesley School of Household Arts Kindergarten and Grade Work. Home efficiency and dietetics. Dormitory Address Mrs, EDITH LESLEY WOLFARD. MASSACHUSETTS, Cambridge, 29 Everett St. Summer Camps Send for catalog. MASSACHUSETTS, Boston, 11. OF Bryant & Stratton School Boston For over 50 years a leading school in business training. Secretarial, Accounting and Stenographic courses Bulle- tin upon request. Fall Session starts Sept. 7. SECRETARY. MASSACHUSETTS, Boston, 332 Boylston St. tock, Ill ming. Wonderland of woods and water. Unusual equip- ment. Reasonable rates. Overnight te (cirect) from Chicago. Address ILLINOIS, Woodstock. for Girls. beautiful Naomi Pine Tree Camp Lake, 2000 teet above sea, in pine-teten 9 air of Pocono Mountains. Four hours from New ork and Philadelphia. bag wit and tents on sunny hill. Tennis, baseball, canoeing, ‘hikes’ Handicrafts, gardening Iss BLANCHE D. PRICE PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia, 4¢ 404 W. School Lane OF PHYSICAL E - Chicago Normal School for Girls. Powers Lake, Wis. July 7—September 6. Junior camp for yo women 9—14 years. Senior camp for young women 1 years. Excellent boating, bat. ing, bowling, track athletics, = Provision, equipment, loca- the best. 16 acre camp. REGISTRAR. NOIS, Chicago, 430 § Wabash Ave., Box 3. Sargent Camps | For Girls. _Peterboro, New Hampshire. Dr. D. A, Sargent, President. For illustrated veatalog address ECRETARY. MASSACHUSETTS, Cambridge, 8 Everett Street. The Teela-Wooket Camps Campa for Roxbury. Vermont. ‘amous for fine ing ship. A 300 acre ‘“ Wonderland” in che heart of the Green Mountains. Write for booklet. Mr. and Mrs.C. A. Roys, MASSACHUSETTS, Cambridge 38, 10 Bowdoin St. South Pond Cabins needs ot studied. One counsellor to 4 boys. Scouting, nature study, sports. Camp Address ROLLIN GALLAGHER, Headm. r, Louis Day School (Mo.), formerly of the Schoo! NEw HAMPSHIRE, Fitzwilliam. Schools for Backward Children Train Here To Earn r$1800—$5000 a Year guarantee of a high secretarial or executiv position and the assurance of a successful future are yours when you enroll in the Our co-operative Dian | puts this master training.easily within your its covering phase .t business training including Ste Sales- manship, Business Admi a We Will See You Tiveach No matter where you live or what your education and circumstances are, Ransomerian Training is your opportunity. We obtain employment to pay living expenses, if desired, cal geiek year business and social welfare Reservation for 1,000 men and women for now made under co-operative plan. — for Ransomerian College Year Book and ful: particulars. Write TODAY. A postal will do. RANSOMERIAN BUSINESS SCHOOL 1332-42 Grand Avenue, Kansas City, Mo. Accountancy and Business Administration Pace Institute, through its Goyeime and evening Courses in Accountancy and Business Adminis- tration, gives ambitious men and aan market value as certified public accountants, contr analysis, tax specialists, treasurers, general executives. A special nine weeks’ Summer Day Course July 7. This course will be of interest to high- school and =a graduates planning to enter or and to teachers. <A fhmsited nursber of scholarships are available to teachers without charge. Send for Bulletin C. Pace Institute Hudson Tone 30 Church Street EW YORK . today to young men of f Founded by izes in the trai o — preparatory take the most advanced wo For information or interview, address character, ambition and ability an opportunity which extends to every phase of business and young men for this d dig- Elijah W. Sells are The school opens Sept. aa, Day and evening DR. FRANK A. FALL, E tive S t ACCOUNTANCY Offers governmental activity. IN Charles Waldo Has- kins Institute nified profession. Junior prov for those who are not at present qualified to under- sessions throughout the year 469 Fifth Avenue, New York City Be An Electrical Man Thousands of Trained Flestrical Men Are Greatly Needed —YOUR CHANCE! Obtain the Proper Training in Theory and Practice at this school and you hag De able to fill | Position, We get you the position, year. Hundreds of successful students. The Trowbridge Training School A Home School for Nervous and Backward Childten. The Best = the West. Endorsed by Educators and Physicians. E. HAYON TROWBRIDGE, M.D. Missour!, Kansas City, Chambers Bldg. The Binghamton Training School An idea) private home-school for nervous, backward and mental defectives. No age limit. Phy sical Culture. Manual training and all branc ho Open year around. Terms $50 month and up. MR.and Mrs. AUGUSTA. BOLDT, NEw York, Binghamton, 82 Fairview Ave. Supt School for Exceptional Children E facility in a beautiful suburban home for the care and training of children who through mental disability are unable to at- tend public or fw ate schools. Domestic Science for older girls. 14milesfrom Phila. Booklet. MOLLIE A. Woops, PENNSYLVANIA, Roslyn, Box 164 Principal. ‘or bo: Acerwood Tutoring School girls ual instruction to make normal progress. Kindergarten to High School: Industrial Arts. omestic Science. Music. PENNSYLVANIA, Devon, Box C. Sycamore Farm School For Backward and Nervous Children. Individual in- privileges. For circular and particulars dress the schoo! THE SECRETARY NEw York, Newburgh, R. F. D., No. 4. dell —For children of slightl The Hedley School retarded mentality. Indi- vidual tngtryasion along normal lines. Latent abilities developed. Ideal Home Life. Association with normal children. J.ROGER HEDLEY, M.D. Resident sician, Mrs. J. ROGER HEDLEY, (N.Y. Univ.) Prin. PENNSYLVANIA, Box C, Glenside (12 miles from Phila.) Electrical and Mechanical Engineering. One- and Two-year Courses to meet the needs of those with Common School or High School Training, Electrical, and Mechanical Drafting in 6 —- Electrical Winding Course in 6 months, students in bie departments at this ime Summer Term opens July 5. Fall Term opens Sept. 27. KEYSTONE INSTITUTE, Reading, Pa, Write today! You will realize the value of Peirce training after you enter business—why not have it before? Men and women with a thorough knowledge of business essentials are needed everywhere. Peirce is America’s foremost business school. Courses for young men: Business Administration; Salesmanship. Courses for young women: Secreta- tial; Shorthand and Typewriting. Send for 56th year book, PEIRCE SCHOOL Pine Street West of Broad PHILADELPHIA Schools of Elocution and Dramatic Art Academy of Theatrical Art Preparatory and training school for Opera, Vaudeville, Musical Comedy, Photoplay Acting, Classical.and Stage Dancing. Day and ev —_— © classes. Phone Harlem 8147. AS. NEWMAN, Gen. Director. NEW YORK Ciry, 244 Yao Ave., bet. 122nd & 123rd. Course; Dramatic Course |} | and General Culture Course. { Graduates eligible to teach HH N.Y. State Public Schools } Hy without State Certificate. HH rium or catalogue ad- dress The Registrar, 2De- Witt Park, Ithaca, N.Y. School year opens Sept. Teachers’ Course; Lyceum | | ir AMERICAN ACADEMY OF DRAMATIC ARTS Founded in 1884 FRANKLIN H. SARGENT, President The leading institution for Dramatic and Expressional Training in America. Connected with Charles Frohman’s Empire Theaire and Companies. For information apply to SECRETARY 144 Carnegie Hall, New York, N. Y. Going away to school broadens the child. Find the right school here. | || | | | | i | Manistee, Michigan. Under the = — Cam Tosebo management of Todd Seminary f | a Instructors, Own our Own Building, Most Modern BO Equipment. We invite comparison with the larger | The Wiliams School | } (pres ‘ = ramatic: | i} BUSINESS Gymnastics. Home Life. MedicalSupervision. Adequate B memlesfrom Phila. Booklet. Miss DEVEREUX. successfully treated at my ideal 1e “‘Marydell.””. Treatment also of poorly developed children, or any subnormal type. * Unsurpassed environmental conditions, T. FRANK DEVLIN, M, D,

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Schools for Deve and Girls four schools m one Prachcal stage trairmg The Schods students stockewo Write for detailed catalog mentioning study desired to Secretary Alviene Schools, Suite 21 225 W. 57th St. New York The National School The oldest chartered school of Expression in America. Degrees granted. Public Finis Training. Dormitories. For catalog, addr PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia. Chestnut St. Emerson College of Oratory Largest School of Oratory, Belles-lettres and Peda- gogy in America Summer Session. 41st year. Degrees ress granted. Ad Harry SeYmMovur_Ross, Dean. MASSACHUSETTS, Boston, ‘Huntington Chambers. Leland P owers School F THE SPOKEN WO) Distinguished for the puccess of its graduates. For cat- alog address DIRECTOR. TH MASSACHUSETTS, Boston, Upper Fenway. Are you asleep—mentally? You can develop Self-confidence, Memory, Personality and the many other hidden Powers of Self-expression by a course at LLEGE of Diplomas and Degrees. Elocution or Correspondence Salesmanship ‘Oourses. Public Class or Private Instruction. Speaking Send for free copy of Dr. Neff's Authorship booklet “‘ Education and Success. 1730 Chestnut St. Philadelphia Schools of Kindergarten Training ade possible b, le e and Oratory. tes $400.00. Tilton Seminary _ In the foothiils of the White Mountains 10 = including new gymnasium and dining-hal ormitories for young men and women. New 4 acre athletic field. Thorough training under Christian id .. Preparation for college or business. Music, Elocution and Manual Training. Special ours for high school graduates. Home Economics,Sewing, Dress- making and Domestic Science. Catalog an "views, TILTON LOWER SCHOOL FOR YOUNG BOYS Entirely distinct buildings. Number limited. All ad- vantages es of Seminary faculty, gymnasium and ath- letic field. Supervised study, Dlay and athletics atentes te to the capability of each boy. House moth- Separate booklet. "he culty and equipment superior to most high-priced schools while the endowment per- ts an unusually moderate rate. For informa- tion about either school address George L. GRAND RIVER INSTITUTE. Strictly high-grade. co-educational endowment. New an Stron Plimpton, Principal, 32 School St., Tilton, N. H. 4 2 Kindergarten Trainin The Fannie A. Smith ‘Training in great demand. Intensive courses in theory and practice. Schoo! residence for a limited number. Grounds for ath- letics and outdoor life. Practical work. One and two year courses. Graduates in demand. Catalog. FANNIE A. SMITH, CONNECTICUT, Bridgeport, 1124 Iranistan Ave. Prin. Pestalozzi Froebel Teachers Colleg € A Kindergarten Normal College. Class Rooms se Lake Michigan. Summer School June 22-Aug.1. 3 Depts. —Kindergarten-Primary-Playground. Strong Faculty— Fine Location—Accredited. ress REGISTRAR. ILLINOIS, Chicago, 616-22 So. Michigan Bivd., Box 5. KINDERGARTEN ELEMENTARY COLLEGE INDERGARTEN and Pri- mary teachers in demand. Salaries rapidly increasing. Combined Professional and Cultural Education. College accredited. Diploma, 2 years. Three and four year courses. Four Dormitories on College Grounds. For catalog address Box 52, 2944 Michigan Boulevard = Chicago, Illinois ita PRIMARY Kindergarten asinine ScHooL d primary Special teachers a Oberlin MIss ROSE DEAN. Oxt0, Oberlin, 125 Elm St. Miss Illman’s School for Kindergartners Junior, Senior and Graduate Courses. Primary methods. Practice ‘Kindergartens. Home-like Students’ residence. For particulars address LLMAN, Princip: PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia, 3600 Walnut St., pa ‘Cc. Perry Kindergarten Normal School Founded 1898 by Annie Mosely Perry. Thorough train- ing for kindergarten, primary, and playground | Positions. d practice teaching. Send for booklet, ‘‘ Training HARRIOT HAMBLEN JONES, Principal. A, Boston, 18 Huntington Ave., Box 74. 2 paratory school. yen equipment rtments of milin, Prin., x Austinburg, Kent's Hill Seminary hu ulbped Extensive grounds. Athletic fields. buildings. Pre- are for college, scientific schools and business. Music. Euual opportunity for boys and girls. Moderate cost. OHN O. NEWTON, A.B., President. MaIne, Kent's Hill. of North Parsonsfiel Parsonsfield Seminary Maine For boro ris. In the foothills of the White Mountains. 200 acres. buildings. Invigorating air. an spcrts. Cottage Yn course. Domestic poy, culture owment its $300 to cover all expe’ kle MAINE, vel Falls, Bors "WESLEY SOWLE, A.B., Prin. Mrs. M. Lewtas Burt's School For Tiny Tots 1 to 10 y $65 to $751 per 4 in allvance. NEw YORK, Pee! -on-Hudson, Graylock. Preparation for College a Dickinson Seminary Specialty teachers. Strong courses in Business, Piano, Voice, Violin, Art, Crafts, Expression. All sports. ‘Athletic field. Pool. nasiums. Co-educational. Separate dormitories. High ideals. Rates $500. BENJAMIN C. CONNER, D.D., ENNSYLVANIA, Williamsport, Box G. Pre: Co-ed. 30m. from Wash. A Eastern 20th-Century College. new bldgs. Standard A. B. course. two-year, egree courses Conservatory. Pre eD: Opened September SBih ERVIN U. RooP, Ph.D., LL.D., VIRGINIA, Manassas, Box C. President. Colby Academy unsurpassed. Co-ed cational. Meets college requiremen' General courses. Domestic Arts, Music. Modern buildings. Exceptional Gy Athletic field. Endow- ment. Founded 1837. Boston Office, Tremont Temple. N.H., NewLondon. Garvus H. BARRETT, A.B., Hdm. Troy Conference Academy Beautifully si campus. Separate new Dormitories for Boys and Girls, Chapel and Infirmary. Pre} for College, Business. Courses in Household Elocu- tion, and Founded 1834. VERMONT, Poultney, Box D. Prin. 1855. Certificate privi- Wayland Academy [ese lege with leading colleges. Both sexes. to Ist college, all courses b athletic field; half-mile track; large lake. Military Gril, Endowment $250,000: expenses $500. Piano, violin, vocal music, senten. stenography. WISCONSIN, Beaver Dam, Box 54th year. Young men and young Dean Academy women find here a homelike atmos- phere, thorough and efficient training in every department of a broad culture, a += and helpful school 5} spirit, Liberal endowment permits liberal terms. $37 75 per year. Special course in domestic science. For catalogue address, Mass., Franklin. ARTHUR W. PEIRCE, Litt. D., Prin. Kimball Union Academy Daratory. with a moderate tuition, 108th year opens Sept. 1 te elevation. Eight buildings. acres. Farm dormitories for girls and boys. New Gymnasium. P vine fields. oie Club for winter sports. N . Meriden SHARLES ALDEN TRACY. Harriette Melissa Mills School. Affiliated with New York University. Faculty of wide reputation. Residence for students. 2-year course. Students placed in excellent positions. Catalog. Address Iss MELISSA MILLS, Principal. New City, 9-C, N. Y. Univ. Bldg., Wash. Sq. Conn. Froebel Normal primary demic, kindergarten. Rig and playground courses. Boarding and day sch Big opportunities yy our gradu- ates. State certificate. "bond MA C. MILLS, Principal. CONNECTICUT, Bridgeport, 182" W est Ave. Miscellaneous Nathaniel Bogue, who stam- spe himself for twenty years so badly he could hardly talk, originator of the Bogue Unit Method of Restoring Per- fect Speech and Founder of the Bogue Institute for Stammerers and Stutterers, an institu- tion with national patronage, strongly indorsed by the medical profession, has written a 70-page illus- trated book "telling how he cured himself. ontains definite and authoritative information. Sent any- where free, and postpaid upon request %o BENJAMIN N. BOGUE, President, 2460 Bogue Building, Indianapolis, Indiana Cushing Academy Ashburnham, For boys and girls who desire best at Froperasory courses for od Schools and Business Music, Hou Arts, Manual Training. Mt. Wachusett region. Seven buildings. Gymna- sium. Athletic fields. 20-acre campus. illustrated og. i. S. OOWELL, A. M., Pd. D., Principal WYOMING SEMINARY A co-educational school where boys and girls get a vision. College preparation, Business, Music, Art, Oratory and Domestic Arts and Science. Military train- i Gymnasium and_ Athletic ing, field. 76th year. Endowed. Catalogue. L. L. Sprague, D.D., Pres. Kingston, Pa. 18 Schools of Elocution and Dramatic Art ee ARTS | | = | — AND ‘|

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s. Ss. al Prey Schools for Girls and Boys 19 The Most Attractive Child I Ever Met By George Bond HAD stopped off on my way East to visit an old classmate of mine who lived on a ranch twenty (( miles from nowhere and whom I had not seen in ten years. When we ar- rived at his home his lit- tle boy of eight came dashing up on his pony to meet us, and while my friend ° drove the car round to the garage his young son, having hitched his horse, showed me to my room. I was at once impressed by his courtesy and attrac- tive manners, at which I marveled in one brought up so far in the wilds. But my surprise grew into wonder at dinner, andas my stay wasprolonged, for, thoughwhatIfirstnoticedwas manners, it was the little fellow’s unusual education thatlateramazed me. Hedisplayed such an interest in the miscellaneous table talk and such remarkable knowledge of people, business, pictures, history, litera- ‘ure, etc., that my admiration continued to grow by leaps and bounds. After dinner he took a book and curled up in a chair to himself where most boys would have worried their mothers to tell or read them a story. IM,” I said to his father, when the boy had gone to bed, “I never met a child like Ted before, and the re- markable thing about him is that with all his knowledge, he is 100% real boy. Where did he get his training anyway?” “From a school in Baltimore,” he re- plied with a smile of pride. “His be- havior, his 3 R’s, his general informa- tion, we owe all to that school.” “When did you live in Baltimore?” I asked. “T have never been to Baltimore,” he answered. “You don’t mean to say you sent a boy of his age away to boarding school?” “Oh, no!” said he. “When Ted reached the age of four, we became des- perate. Neither my wife nor I knew anything about bringing up a child and though we felt our responsibility keenly, we did not know what to do. Ted was meanwhile developing traits and tend- encies that began to alarm us. His edu- cation meant more to us than anything ese in the world, but it seemed that if we stayed here without a school there could be no education. And if we left the ranch there would be no money for his education. “Thus we were between the two horns of a dilemma. Then one day we heard accidentally that the Calvert School in Baltimore was training and teaching children from four to twelve years right in their own homes, no matter where they live, by laying a foundation of good habits and manners at the age of four, proceeding with the teaching of reading and writing and so carrying its pupils on until when they finally do go to school they enter a year or more ahead of other children their age.” “T didn’t know that such a school existed,” I frankly con- fessed. “Come, let me show you his school room,” he said, and taking me upstairs into the boy’s play- room he pointed out one corner set aside for the purpose of a school—with its little desk and a chair and shelf of books, one or two of which I opened. “What attractive books!” I ex- claimed. “I didn’t know school books were ever made so. They weren’t in my day.” He showed me the daily lesson sheets of instructions so clear that any one could follow them and so enlightening that even with a random glance I learned things that brought forth the exclama- tion, “ Well, I never knew that before!”’ Then I examined Ted’s stories about his pony and life on the ranch, and his compositions, illustrated with pictures on art, history, mythology, science, to- gether with his reports and certificate. COMPARED the work mentally with that of my own little girl in the East whom, at a financial sacrifice, I was sending to the best day school I knew of—and a jeal- ous and even angry feeling swept over me that my friend’s son, 1000 miles from a good school, should beso much better trained. “But who does the actual tezch- ing?” I asked. “His nurse at first gave him his les- sons, but after a while my wife became so interested that she considered it a pleasure and a privilege to do that part herself. She found it brought new in- terest and delight into her own life, and I venture to say it takes no more of her time than that which your wife spends in hearing your little girl’s lessons, which you are paying others to teach.” “Ts the Calvert School another one of those money making enterprises?” 1 asked. “Oh, no,” he replied. “The Calvert School was started and is maintained by a group of leading citizens of Baltimore who seek no financial benefits, but who wanted the best the educational world afforded for their own children. And they are broad-minded enough to wish to make similar advantages available to all English speaking children. The Cal- vert School faculty is constantly trying out new devices, books, schemes, plans and methods and they adopt and incor- porate into their course any improve- ment that stands the test. “You'll be surprised to know there are Calvert pupils in every State and 22 foreign: countries, and a great many schools are using Calvert methods, though many claim to be using the Cal- vert School system who are not entitled to. Inspired by my friend’s enthusiasm, I borrowed a post card, sat down at once and wrote the Calvert School, ask- ing for full information. When I reached home, the informa- tion I sought was awaiting me, and without taking Mary, my daughter, out of school I at once secured the Calvert instruction for her. It was not long before her school teacher, not knowing what was taking place, remarked on her improvement, and now she is at the head of her class. HY not find out what the Calvert School can do for your child? There is a course of daily lessons for each age of childhood from 4 or 5 years to 12 —not a book of general instructions and advice or discussion of methods of child training, but definite lessons for each school day, setting down just what is to be done day by day and in such simple language that anyone can follow the directions. The course of daily lessons is within the means of every home. So if you wish to have a child of whom you will be proud in any company, who will be a credit and a delight to you, send the coupon below for a sample Calvert lesson and full particulars, which we will gladly send you free. CALVERT SCHOOL 4 Chase St. Baltimore, Md. Please send me a sample lesson and full information regarding your Home Instruction for a child of |

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20 Schools of Physical Education What Do You Really Know of It? HOUSANDS of parents anxiously dis- cuss schools, education, “‘finishing’’— but the great majority overlook the most important thing in the child’s life, and that is the education NOT f urnished by the school and seldom in the home. The most vital facts of se/f and /ife re- main to be gained from obscure and often harmful sources. No question of greater moment can be put to the parents of America than: “Will you guide and in- struct your child in these matters or will you trust blindly to luck?”’ Don’t expect the school to do everything. Realize your own responsibility. Long be- fore your boy and girl are ready to go away to school, long before high school days, they will have asked you, or some one else, questions about sex and life—questions that you should know how to afswer. Can you ae them easily, clearly, safely? Can you Do You Know How the Government Looks at this Problem? The war brought public health problems before the government and the public in a stronger light than ever before. It became apparent that the venereal diseases were seriously undermining the health of the na- tion. Ignorance, Secrecy, False modesty and Prudishness were indicted—charged with complicity in an endless list of crimes! Many of the crimes were against the young —the innocents. In the plans put down for combating these diseases and stamping them out, social hygiene education stands equally important with the medical and other measures employed. It is particularly im- portant to prevent exposure to infection and to protect the youth who will be the men and women of tomorrow. No class, no individual is absolutely se- cure. Clean knowledge, and a clean high understanding of sex is needed, not only as a protection against disease, but as an insur- ance of a healthier, happier lifel But can you properly inform your boy or girl? Do you know what to say? It’s a duty—a big serious one—doubly serious at the time when your boy or girl leaves the home for school or college. ; Help For You Meet these problems in your own home. Keep the frank, absolute confidence of your child. Learn just what to say and do. This Association is working in close co- operation with the departments of the government including the U. S. Bureau of Education, State boards of health, universi- Their Tomorrow— ties and other agencies engaged in social hygiene work. A part of our work has been to prepare literature for the public—for parents, for all individuals. For parents we have three pamphlets father. **Child Questions and Their Answers”’ ‘‘The Boy Problem”’ **Conquering an Old Ene —(by Wit These will be sent for 10 cents each to cover the cost of printing and mailing. Each deals with a vital subject. Once you have read Will Irwin’s booklet you will real- ize the overwhelming need for education along the lines dealt with in the other book- lets. SEND THE COUPON TODAY—Print your name The American Social Hygiene Association 109 West 40th Street,:New York City I realize that every good citizen and parent must be thoroughly informed on these subjects. I enclose...... cents. Send me...... copies of the booklets checked. 4 Child Questions and Their Answers The Boy Problem Conquering an Old Enemy which should be read by every mother and | THE profession of Physical Director and Playground Supervisor is in the ascendancy. It makes possible the Amer- ican ideal of ‘‘ Efficiency through Fitness.” Colleges, Universities, Public and Private Schools, Summer Camps, Athletic Clubs, Indus- trial, Social and Community Centers, Banks, Manufacturing Plants, Department Stores, Y. M. and Y. W C. A., are making constant demand for more trained men and women than are avail- able. The American College prepares and places through its heavy graduate placing bureau large numbers of these workers each year. The American College offers a two year course to High School Graduates, leading to Bachelor degree (B. P. E.). allowed for outside work—Scholarships. Student Council—Athletice Association —- Orchestra — Sororities. college life. Special work with diploma. Credit Delightful Term opens September . Write for “« Description of Courses” and View Book. Address Dept. C-7, 4200 Grand Boulevard, Chicago - AMERICAN COLLEGES (@ Accredited Co-educational The Sargent School For Physical Education. Established 1881. Address for booklet. Dr. D. A. SARGENT. N H N 1 SCHOOL OF Cw aven ormal Gymnastics 34th year. Fits for teaching, physical training, playground work. Bureau of Anos ntments. Dormitories. 2 gymna- siums. New Dining Hall. 10 buildings. Enclosed 3-acre campus. Boathouse, athletic fields, 250 acres on Sound. CONNECTICUT, New Haven, 1466 Chapel Street. MASSACHUSETTS, Cambridge. OF PHYSICAL Battle Creek Normal Schoo EDUCATION. Physical Education for Women. Summer Camp Session July 5-Aug.13. Accredited Girl Scout School for Captains. Certificates. Regular courses, including aesthetic and folk dancing under Miss Louise Bay lis, Chalif gold medal holder. MICH., Battle Creek, Box 6. C. WARD CRAMPTON, M.D. SICAL EDUCA- Chicago Normal School ¢ For Women. Six weeks Summer Term—June 28-. Aue. 9. Beginning and advanced work in gymnastics, games, dancing and theory classes. Special course in dancing with Madeline Burtner Hazlitt. Michigan—June 5-July 3. ILL., Chicago, 430S. Wabash Ave., Box 23. REGISTRAR. Posse Normal School of Gymnastics 32nd year. New building. Courses of one, two and three years. Present conditions created great demand for our graduates. Courses in M ical Gymnastics and Play- grounds. Summer Camp. Apply to THE SECRETARY. MASSACHUSETTS, Boston, 779 Beacon Street. ThelthacaSchoolof Physical Education Opens September 21st. Two-year Normal Course. Gradu- ates eligible to teach in N. Y. State Public Schools without State Certificate. Athletics, dancing, fencing, public speak- ing, games. Co-educational. THE REGISTRAR. NEw YORK, Ithaca, 2 De Witt Park Conservatories of Music Edgar Nelson Kenneth M. Bradley ice- Pres. and Director | t E. Secy. Expression Physical Culture tists as Charles W An Institution of National Prominence Accredited courses leading to Certificate, Diploma and Degrees in Languages Dancing MUSIC Faculty of over qoventy euch famous ar- . Clark, baritone, Richard Czerwonky, vio linist , Moses Boguslawski, Mme. Julie Rive- -King, pianists Only Conservatory in Chicago maintaini Dormitories and with exclusive use of its on term begins Sept. 14. Dormitory reservations now. talog describing this great institution and‘its many advantages, address c. M, JONES, Registrar, 839 North Dearborn Street, CHICAGO Student uildings For illustrated New York School of Music and Arts All branches of music. Day and boarding pupils. ALFE LEECH STERNER, Director. NEw York, N. Y.C., Central Park West. "cor. 95th St. ed Twentieth Year Columbia School of Music dpens september 6, 1920. Comprehensive Academic and Collegiate courses in i dl branches of music leading to Degree, Bachelor of M All classes limited in number. Register now. REGISTRAR. Institute of Musical Art on An endowed school. Frank Directo r. Pro- vides a thorough and comprehensive musical education in all branches and equip to give highest advantages most exceptional talents. Address SECRETARY. NEW YorK 120 Claremont Ave. Addr ress, : ILLINOIS, Chicago, Box 85, 509 S. Wabash Ave. Do you wish our assistance injthe Music Schools choice of a school? If you do not find one suited to your requirements advertised in the magazine write to us. Give location, approximate a you are willing to spend, and age of prospective D = COSMOPOLITAN EDUCATIONAL CLUB. New York, Times Square Station, Box 155 PHYSICAL fil PHYSICAL | | | — | | |

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Narses’ Training Schools 21 Special ad vantages to those Jooking to educational or concert work. Allinstruments, Vocal, Dramatic Art and Physical Training. Graduates of Musical, Public Speaking and ty oe Training Departments "eligible to teach in N. Y. State Public Schools without State Certificate. Dormitories and Concert Hall. School of Piano Tuning in Connection. School year opens Sept. 2ist. Address THE REGISTRAR, 2 DE WITT PARK, ITHACA, N. Y. ANNOUNCEMENT EXTRAORDINARY SEVCIK, teacher of Kubelik and other famous artists. the world’s greatest Violin Teacher, is under tasa of the Faculty for the season 1920-21. Preparatory classes begin September 21st. vositions. A Nurse? The m of schools are assured of constant, congenial employment at good salaries, with many rsonal expenses saved. Choice of private, hospital, school, _ industrial, public health nursing, . witn advancement to executive Battle Creek trained Three of Independence, _ WHICH WOULD YOU RATHER BE? . met. Economics nurses in special demand. World- © . famous Sanitarium, with 1,000 ro! ealth Recon- special training in Massage, Dietetics. struction added to usual course. Recreational advantages: pleasant _ environment: no tuition fee; merit A Dietitian? Ora Teacher of Home Economics? The demand is greater than can be 2-yr. Course for Dietitians, preparing for lucrative positions in colleges, clubs, hotels, sanitariums, hospitals, etc. Social Service work. 2-yr. Course for Teachers of Home in public or private schools and colleges. Our graduates in special demand. Exceptional ad- vantages, pleasant surroundings, recreation, health-building. Par- tial self-support plan if desired. Write illustrated prospectus. School of 110, Battle Creek, Michigan. Prestige, Home Economics, Box | A of Physical Training? Or Playground Disector—in schools, colleges, Y. W. C. A.’s, clubs, big re- munerative, constructive work, mainly outdoors. Complete, di- versified training, in charge C. Ward Crampton, recent director physical training, public schools; superb equipment, out- door and indoor gymnasiums, swimming pools, athletic fields courts, etc.; games, aesthetic and folk dancing, pageantry, girl scout courses course. Sum- Cincinnati Conservatory of Music Founded 1867 by Clara Baur. Faculty of international reputation. Every branch of musical training. Residence Dept. Besusitul unds. Specialsummer term. For circu- lar and ca talog dress MIss BERTHA BAUR, Directress. OHIO, “Cine nnati, Highland Avenue and Oak Street. Combs Conservatory of Music Training Course for Teachers. Pub- lic School Music mg ones 4 Pupils’ Recitals a week. Daily Supervision. Technic Classes. 2 Pupils’ pe mf Orchestras. ries for Women. Degrees Conferred. Dormito Pa., Philadelphia, “1319 Broad St. G.R. Coss, Dir. American Conservatory Chicago's foremost School of Music and Dramatic Art. ohh season opens Sept. 9th, 1920. For free catalog ress JOHN J. HATTSTAEDT, President. ILLinois, Chicago, 530 Kimball Hall. You can succeed as a Concert Pianist ora Piano Teacher There is a definite principle at the root of all musical success. The foun — of this school discovered the rule to this principle 21 By i ago, and has success- fully demonstrated it and taught it ever since. You, too, can learn it, practice it, teach it, and bea success professionally and financially. Our normal de- partment is open vanced students and teachers who wish to qualify for teaching or concert work. Write for literature and information about ciasses: Centralizing School of Music (Accredited) Gertrude Radle Paradis, President 20 E. Jackson Blvd. Chicago, Illinois allowance, $100 per year. Students may enterany time, butshould ap- plyatonce. Write for catalog, 3 B. C. Sanitarium and H ste a 110, Battle Creek, of Physical Education, 3 Box 110, Battle Creek, Mich These Schools are an out- growth of the educational work of The Battle Creek Sanitarium, and make use of its Hospital, Labora- tories, Gymnasiums, Ath- * letic Courts, etc. BATTLE CREEK SANITARIUM SCHOOLS, Box 110, Battle Creek, Mich. An you irl Training Schools consider, ing the choice of a life-work owes it to herself to consider a career of Professional Nursing. Well-paid, congenial and not over-crowded, it has much to recommend it. Cosmo- politan full information on these schools and hundreds | of others. Address L. R. Gilbert, COSMOPOLITAN EDUCATIONAL New YorK Ciry, Times Square Station, Box 15. Douglas Park Maternity Hospital Training school for Nurses. Short course to l= poe} = Post graduates. Liberal allowance, room, board and wiuuinow, Chicago, 1900 S. Kedzie Ave. Universities, Professional and Trade Schools Poicta 9Chool of Mines Dakota A RAPID CITY, S. D. A State institution located at gate- way of the beautiful Black Hills, a magnificent outdoor laboratory and * home of one of the world’s biggest » gold mines. Institution has strong to hear from students inter- estedin taking a mii metallurgical course. ress President, SOUTH DAKOTA STATE SCHOOL of MINES BECOME A PROFESSIONAL PHOTOGRAPHER Big opportunities NOW. | Qualify for this fascinating profession. Three months’ Write for full particulars of our courses. THE PALMER SCHOOL OF CHIROPRACTIC {Chiropractic Fountain Head) 11th and Brady Streets, DAVENPORT, Iowa, U.S. A. niversi School of Music MARTA MILINOWSKI, B.A., Director Sound musical training under teachers of wide mitory accommodations limited. The Director, Box 100 Lake emt Il. Credits allowed by Lake Forest College and Ferry Hall for Music School work course covers all branches: Metion Cameras and Matera als Furnished Free. Coyne Engineering School ELECTRICITY IN 3% MONTHS. No need to take longer. All practical work. Open all year, enter any time | y or eve. 20 years of success, 16,000 graduates. Also | Drafting courses. Free catalog, state which course. Practical dern ay or evening ILLINOIS, Chicago, 39-51 E. Illinois St., Dept. 47. classes; easy terms. The School of Rec ‘saised Sepentorite '. H Dental School Aa INSTITUTE of PHOTOGRAPHY e arvarc enta chool Harvard University N. Y. ° Modern buildi Degree of D.M.D. Cer. | 141 W. 36th Street, N. Y. 505 State Street, Bklyn tificates from penn Be preparatory schools accepted for entrance September, 1920. One year in college required for entrance 1921. Fall term opens September 27, 1920. Catalog. 1A8s., Boston EUGENE H. SMITH, D.M.D., Dean. College of Thorough course in Physio-Therapy, including Swedish Movements, Corrective Gymnastics, Electr Thermo-, and H rdro-Therapy, Anatomy, Physiology, ‘= associated branches. Catalogue C. PENNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia, 1709-11 Green St. The Auto and Tractor Business is the greatest in the World. Millions of machines Narses’ Training Schools The Grace Hospital ‘9 yrs. course. Registered. Theoretical and naction) class work. Modern nurses’ home. Two years’ Hig work or its educational a required. Address SUPERINTENDENT OF N MICHIGAN, Detroit, John R St. and Willis Ave. Box Cc, Hurley Hospital Training School y Accredited by State Board of Registration of tel offers a3 years’ course of training in medical, surgical, obstetrical and contagious nursing. School catalog and blanks sent > application to the Supt. of Hospital and Training Schoo! MICHIGAN, Flint. Mercer Hospital Draining Hospital tor Nurses ing Course offers special advantages. 175 beds. Pupils live in Nurses’ Home, board and tuition free. Income while learning. Two weeks annual PR Grammar School and Ist year High Schoo! ts NEW JERSEY, Trenton. is more sold daily. $ fi id, Our ce Your Opportunity in pletean "DETROI MECHANICAL STRY Big A pleasant, dignified profession. erence. Taught by actual practice. Auta Welding Modern laboratories. Three NG AUTO FACTORIES ul earti i t A 3 months’ course—day or evenin | metals of instruction. “In fact, they presen No previous knowledge or experience requir Catalog FREE; Fully tlustrated. No charge for tools or ment. shows and quotes The men we train are in dem: Established 28 years. letters from graduates. Positive Guar- untry-wide recognition, Write today for free catalog No. 23 ‘BODEE DENTISTRY NEW YORK HILADELPHIA BROOKL 136 W.52 St, walnut Sts. Brietbush MICHIGAN Stare SCHOOL Detroit, Mich.U.8.A | Residential Schools (Continued on page 149) Conservatories of Music PO = [THACA CONSERVATORY | | of = | | gins July Fall September, | ‘ = 2 | | | A> | uates in big demand. Will be glad PS.Cz OF (HIROPRACTIC. ¥ FA DAVENPORT. IOWA | rt. | Lhe \) reputation and long experience. Four years special work required for Performer’s and ' Teacher's Certificate. Special courses in Key- | 2 board Harmony, History of Music and Ap- DETR | TT ESS i The Auto Centeris the To if AN | | GAM |

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Possibilities in every Woman’s Face HE soft, appealing charm of a fresh, lovely skin—of course you want it. Ev- ery girl does. Every girl wants to be attractive, lovable, ad- mired— And unless your skin is right, nothing is right. Haven’t you often felt that? What use to wear the prettiest frock, if your skin is pale and lifeless, marred by blackheads or ugly little blemishes? You can make your skin so no- ticeably soft, so exquisitely fresh and clear, that at first glance it will awaken admiration and de- light. By studying it—learning its possibilities—then giving it every day the kind of care that suits its particular needs, you too, can win the charm of “a skin you love to touch.” Is your skin pale, sallow, life- less? Begin tonight to give it this special steam treatment and see how quickly you can rouse it to freshness and color: One or two nights a week fill your washbowl full of hot water —almost boiling hot. Bend over the top of the bowl and cover your head and the basin with a heavy bath towel, so that no steam can escape. Steam your face for thirty seconds. Now lather a hot cloth with Woodbury’s Facial Soap. With this, wash your face thoroughly, rubbing the lather well into your skin with an upward and out- ward motion. Then rinse your face well, first with warm water, then with cold, and finish by rub- bing it for thirty seconds with a piece of ice. Dry carefully. The other nights of the week wash your face thoroughly in the Woodbury way, with Wood- bury’s Facial Soap and warm water, ending with a dash of cold water. You can feel how much good this treatment is doing your skin This is only one of the famous Woodbury treatments for the care of the skin. You will find special treatments for each dif- ferent skin condition in the little booklet that is wrapped around each cake of Woodbury’s Facial Soap. Get a cake today—begin, to- night, the treatment your skin needs. Woodbury’s Facial Soap is on sale at all drug stores and toilet goods counters in the United States and Canada. A 25-cent cake lasts for a month or six weeks of any treatment, and for general cleansing use. “*Your Treatment for One Week”’ A beautiful little set of the Woodbury facial preparations sent to you for 25 cents. Send 25 cents for this dainty miniature set of Woodbury’s facial preparations, containing your complete Woodbury treat- ment for one week. You will find, first the little booklet, “A Skin You Love To Touch,” telling you the special treatment your skin needs; then a trial size cake of Woodbury’s Fa- cial Soap—enough for seven nights of any treatment; a sample tube of the new Woodbury Facial Cream; and samples of Woodbury’s Cold Cream and Facial Powder, with directions telling you just how they should be used. Write today for this special new Woodbury outfit. Address The Andrew Jergens Co., 1607 Spring Grove Ave., Cincinnati, Ohio. If you live in Canada, Address The Andrew Jergens Co., Limited, 1607 Sher- brooke Street, Perth, Ontario. 22 Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 4 4 |

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COSMOPOLITAN VOL.LXIX JULY, 1920 NO.1 Democracy and Laughter By Meredith Nicholson APPINESS is the true touchstone of Democracy. Where any considerable number of people find life ‘‘weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,” there is something wrong. Are we really a happy nation? With every element of happiness within our grasp, it would seem, sometimes, that we fail fully to realize the great desire. The eyes of the world are upon us, and if, as a nation, we fail to impress peoples elsewhere by that elation of spirit which speaks for joy and contentment, we are poorly meeting our responsibilities as children of Democracy. We cannot make people happy any more than we can make them good by the multiplication of laws. Laws are conducive to happiness only as they promote justice, equality of opportunity, and comfortable conditions of life. An edict that, on a certain day, every man, woman, and child tn the republic must be happy would be ridiculous. It is worth remembering that the search for happiness begins and ends in our own hearts. Many years ago, Matthew Arnold complained that we of America lacked intellectual seriousness. To-day, there is greater reason to fear that we have lost our capacity for laughter. We are solemnly warned that mighty problems cry for attention, but these will be solved much more quickly if we approach them buoyanily. We may be as earnest as we please, but we must keep smiling. The darkest prospect is not so black as it appears. When I pass a crippled machine in the highway and the owner peers out from under his vehicle and greets me with a grin, I know that he is master of the situation and will soon be on his way rejoicing. Pleasant it is on starry nights to hear the laughter of children at play in the street or the jazzy twang where light-ankled youth trip gaily and know life to be good. The loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind is one thing; honest mirth, testifying to courage, poise, and serenity of temper, is another. Humor is an efficacious antiseptic, a powerful tonic. So long as we can laugh, we are immune from defeat; there is still some heart in us for the great business of noble living. A merry heart goes all the day; Your sad tires in a mile-a. | (a) a A A a A (a) (a) (a) (a) (a) A A a a (a) a a A A A A A A A A a A A A A a A a A a A a a A A (a) A A a A a A a A a a n A fa) | A | a | A (01) a 5 374135

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22, x j P > Us at’ (i ‘ “

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By dacar AL. Guest “Decoration by W.T, Benda F I had youth I'd bid the world to try me: I'd answer every challenge to my will. Though mountains stood in silence to defy me, I'd try to make them subject to my skill. I'd keep my dreams and follow where they led me: I'd glory in the hazards which abound. I'd eat the simple fare privations fed me, And gladly make my couch upon the ground. If I had youth I'd ask no odds of distance, Nor wish to tread the known and level ways. I'd want to meet and master strong resistance, And in a worth-while struggle spend my days. I'd seek the task which calls for full endeavor; I'd feel the thrill of battle in my veins. I'd bear my burden gallantly, and never Desert the hills to walk on common plains. If I had youth no thought of failure lurking Beyond to-morrow’'s dawn should fright my soul. Let failure strike—it still should find me working With faith that I should some day reach my goal. I'd dice with danger—aye!—and glory in it; I'd make high stakes the purpose of my throw. I'd risk for much, and should I fail to win it I would not ever whimper at the blow. If I had youth no chains of fear should bind me; I'd brave the heights which older men must shun. I'd leave the well-worn lanes of life behind me, And seek to do what men have never done. Rich prizes wait for those who do not waver; he world needs men to battle for the truth. It calls each hour for stronger hearts and braver. This is the age for those who still have youth! ‘ 7 : . : 4 = } > i “ RY, | {

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Cousins Convenience The first of a series of stories about the friends of Potash and Perlmutter By Montague Glass Illustrated by J. Henry OUSIN TILLY was around this afternoon,” Mrs. Perma- senzky announced one evening at dinner, after her husband had taken the keener edges from his appetite with a half- pound of chopped liver and onion. “T hope she was feeling good,” Simon Permasenzky said, “‘because that woman ain’t had a sick day at her own expense now for the past ten years.” ‘“*Ain’t you ashamed to talk that way about a poor woman which all her life has had nothing but one Tzuris after another?” “Any woman who goes to work and marries a man which plays for a living the bull fiddle, mommer, couldn’t look forward to no winters in Florida exactly,” Permasenzky commented. “Tilly’s husband is all right, Simon,’’ Mrs. Permasenzky said. ‘All the poor feller needs is a chance.” “Vow—‘achance!’” Permasenzky exclaimed. ‘Who is going to give \ a chance to some one which all his life has had only experience playing on the bull fiddle, even if he didn’t have such a ridiculous name like Harris Fishbein, mommer.” “And I suppose Permasenzky is a name which comes out of the mouth natural like breathing, I suppose,’’ Mrs. Permasenzky said bit- terly, “which many an order you slipped up on, on account when the customer tells the bookkeeper to ring up Permasenzky and the book- keeper says how do you spell it, the customer says to never mind and ring up Cohen or Goldman or some easy name like that.” “Well, if I must got to lose once in a while an order, mommer, that’s something I couldn’t help, but the Permasenzkys was once a big family, mommer, and I am the only one left,’’ Permasenzky said, “and I think I told you before, mommer, that——” ‘**Before!’”’ Mrs. Permasenzky said. “You told it me already a thousand times that your grandfather was the big Permasenz Rav from Permasenz by Posen.” “Well then, for the thousand-and- oneth time, mommer,” Permasenzky retorted, “‘I would also tell you that I ain’t got no intentions of changing it to Perry or anything like that. Anyone which has got a name like Perry is liable at any time to have somebody by the name of Perry dropping into his store and saying, ‘Don’t you know me, cousin Simon?’ and that a highwayman ganvered his pocketbook on him in the subway, and couldn’t I stake him to his car-fare home somewheres around Decatur, Illinois, or even Gervais, Oregon?” “But if you could prove to such people that Perry is a name you changed to only a few months since, ; tested, “how could such people got the nerve to touch you?” ““*Senough,mommer,”’ Permasenzky said. “That I married into a bunch of distant relations with hard-luck tales couldn’t be helped now. What is vorbei is vorbei, but that I should, by permission of the Supreme Court, de- liberately go to work and adopt a lot of Perrys which has got appendicitis without being able to afford it, y’understand, or is going to have daughters get married on’em and is shy two hundred fifty dollars for the wedding expenses, understand me, then all I’ve got tosay is my peace of mind is more to me than . losing a few orders on account of not having an up-to-date name.” \

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Montague Glass 27 “And how many times did you got to help out my relations with appendicitis?” Mrs. Permasenzky demanded. “How many times did you want me to help them out?” Per- ‘masenzky asked. “Once is enough for a five-hundred-dollar operation. And, furthermore, mommer, if you are going to throw it up to me that I only give two hundred and fifty dollars once to that Schnorrer that he should get a daughter married, he has got already two more daughters old enough to get married, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if that was what Tilly showed up here to-day about.” “Tt wasn’t about no such thing,” Mrs. Per- aS mansenzky replied. ‘‘All she wanted to know adc was if you was going to be home this evening 4 on account Harris wanted to come round and see you about something.” “Well, all I can say is that I hoped you told her I wasn’t going to be,’’ Permasenzky com- mented. “‘T didn’t say nothing of the kind,” Mrs. Permasenzky in- formed him, ‘because you’ve been out every night this week.” “Aber, mommer /Jeben—” Permasenzky began, but a ring at the door-bell cut his protest short. “And besides,” Mrs. Per- mansenzky said, as she rose to answer it, ‘‘that’s probably him now.” Her use of the adverb “probably ” was purely rhetor- ical. She knew bevond the shadow of a doubt that it was Harris Fishbein, for she had warned Tilly to have him there not a minute later than half-past seven, and it was precisely that time when the door-bell rang. Furthermore, she was also aware that he was going to bring some one with him, but this did not prevent her greeting Fish- bein’s companion as though he had literally dropped from the clouds, or at any rate the upper part of the Bronx, from which he, in fact, had dropped. “Well, Milton!’ she cried. “This is a surprise! Popper, here is Harris, and who do you think he has got with him?” “Damrosch,’”’ Permasenzky said at a venture, but as Mrs. Permasenzky and her visitors were still in the hall out of ear-shot, she proceeded to answer her own question. “Milton Hirshkind,” she continued. ‘Come on in, Milton. Come in, Harris.” - It was Mrs. Permasenzky’s boast, and of not the slightest consolation to her husband, that no matter how unsuccessful financially they might be, all her family were talented or had married talented people. Her nephew, Milton Hirshkind, for. instance, was a portrait-painter of the inter- pretive school. That is to say, he worked to put upon canvas the spirit of the sitter rather than to achieve a likeness, and was therefore obliged to supplement his profes- sional earnings by being an usher in a moving-picture theater, an occupation which permitted him to use the morning light for painting but which, unfortunately, restricted him in the matter of hair. He was obliged to have it cut regularly once a week. Harris Fishbein, on the other hand, was encouraged by the same management to keep his hair long, as befitted the third con- trabass player in one of the largest moving-picture orchestras of America north of Forty-second Street and south of Columbus Circle. Except in the matter of hair, however, the management in no way controlled the costume of its employees outside of business-hours, with the result that, while Milton was a pictur- esque figure from the neck down, Harris Fishbein was only pic- turesque from theneck up. He was wearing an old suit of Simon Permasenzky’s without being Simon’s weight by at least thirty pounds. It was upon this suit rather than upon Milton that Permasen- zky’s eyes rested when his visitors entered the room, since, only the day before, Mrs. Permasenzky had faced him down that he had sold it himself to an old-clothes dealer. He was nevertheless as cordial to his visitors as any- one could be to relations by marriage who were evidently not making an entirely social call. “Hello, Milton!” he said. “I ain’t seen you in I don’t know when.” He motioned them to beseated. ‘‘ Nu, Harris,’ he continued; ‘how is things with you?”’ “How should they be?” Fishbein replied. “What do you mean—‘How should they be?’?” Permasenzky said. ‘‘Why,I thought you had such a good job.” ““Yow—‘a good job!” Fishbein said hopelessly. ‘‘ Playing on the bass fiddle is never a good job. I tell you, Simon, playing on the bass fiddle is getting on my nerves something terrible. Year in and year out, sawing away, first the tonic and then the dominant, which only last week Mr. Regensburger, the director, says to me: ‘Fish- bein,’ he says, ‘I am surprised that a feller with your intelligence should be content to be only a bass-fiddle player,’ he says. And I says, ‘What can I do?’ I says. ‘That is my education, which I got it to be a bass-fiddle player,’ I says, ‘and with a wife and two unmarried daughters,’ I says, ‘it is- already too late to learn an old dawg young tricks,’ I says.” “Well, certainly,” Permasenzky commented, “‘nobody compelled you to learn the bull fiddle, Harris.” “T never said they did,’’ Fish- bein replied. ‘But Mr. Regens- burger says to me: ‘Fishbein,’ he says, ‘even a bass-fiddle player never knows what he can do till he tries,’ he says. ‘You got well- to-do relations,’ he says. ‘Couldn’t they help you?’ he says. ‘Look at me,’ he says. ‘Ten years ago, I was running a cigar-stand in the Clothing Exchange Building, and to-day I am one of the biggest musical directors in the moving- picture business.’ ” “And what’s more, uncle “Suppose they are my Simon,” Milton said, “he has got relations?” Mrs. Per- a stake in the Vendome, the Piccadilly, the Campidoglio, and the Elsinore Theayters and owns outright six moving-picture places in the Bronx.” “Five,” Fishbein corrected. “The other one he owns in partner- ship with his brother, and as they want to split up on account of the brother having an offer to go to the Coast, Regensburger says they are willing to sell it at a bargain.” “Now it comes out,” Permasenzky murmured, and returned with interest the glare with which his wife favored him. “And I suppose the idea is that I should give you the money to get this bargain before somebody else snaps it up.” “The place will pay for itself inside of six months, Simon,” Harris Fishbein said. “Sure I know,” Simon said. ‘‘ Any business which ain’t a fake business will pay for itself in six months if you don’t pay too much for it in the first place, Harris, which, if you treat a business right, Harris, it will treat you right, Harris. But if you are going to say to a business every other night: ‘So long, Business! I am going masenzky said, with an hysterical inflection that made Permasenzky re- tire further and further behind his paper ae ma- nd alf- use ast ich ra in All ive on ike he he nd t’s ly, id. d he nz d- cy at t. re y g, is d \ h u e h t t 1 1

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28 Cousins of Convenience down to Shimkowitz’s International Café to play a little Stuss or Tarrok, and I would be back when I would be back’—y’under- stand you could do that kind of nonsense for a few nights, and the first thing you know, when you do get back, there wouldn’t be no business there. A business ain’t a wife, Harris. You have only had experience neglecting a wife and not a business, Harris. No matter where you’ve been, Harris, and how long vou’ve stayed away, when you get back, a wife would practically always be there, Harris, but a business mot.”’ ‘‘A man that plays a fiddle for a living has got to stay away nights, popper,” Mrs. Permasenzky said, ‘“‘and that’s just what Harris don’t want to do no longer.” *‘And I suppose Milton don’t want to paint them alleged pic- tures of his no longer, neither,’’ Permasenzky suggested. ‘Well, I would like to keep my mornings for painting,”’ Milton said. “And I would like to keep my mornings for being a passenger on a steam-yacht,”’ Permasenzky retorted, “or playing golluf or otherwise doing something where I wouldn’t got to work no harder than you do painting, Milton, and which would bring me in about as much money; but I can’t do it, Milton. My regular business is the knit-goods business, and any business which is a regular business ain’t only an afternoon business, Milton. It is morning and afternoon business for work and evening business for worry, so, if you don’t mind, I would now get busy with a - few monthly statements which I brought home with me to check up before the bookkeeper sends them out to-morrow morning.” “But, popper, vou ain’t heard nothing at all about the details of this here moving-picture theayter,” Mrs. Permasenzky pro- tested. “‘T don’t have to hear them,” Permasenzky said, reaching for the evening paper. ‘‘A moving-picture theayter is a business like any other business, and if you ain’t a business man, you couldn’t run a business with or without the assistance of one of them now tubist painters.” “Might, if you would consider this matter again, maybe,” Fishbein suggested. “T don’t have to consider it again.’”’ Permasenzky said, pre- paring to become completely absorbed in the paper. ‘‘I’ve made up my mind, Harris, so I would be very glad if you and Milton would stay and have a cup of coffee with us. Otherwise, good- evening.” He spread the paper apart and held it in front of him until his visitors had passed out of the room; then he lowered it at once and listened intently to a murmured conversation which was taking place at the hall door. Once he heard Mrs. Permasenzky say, “I tell you, Harris, you shouldn’t worry; I’ll fix it.” And later, in response to some mumbling express of despair from Har- ris, she further said: ‘‘Ach! That’s only his disposition. He is always that way at first.” And when she reentered the room, his head was still nodding indignantly. “Well,” Mrs. Permasenzky said, ‘‘I suppose you feel very proud of yourself that vou could be such a big Lamdan to a couple of poor fellers which is so discouraged they couldn’t even come back with even: ‘Is that so?’ or ‘You don’t tell me!’ ” ““Now, listen mommer,” Permasenzky began: “If them two fellers was in sickness or misfortune, that would be something else again, but——” Misfortune,” Mrs. Permasenzky interrupted. misfortune enough not to have a business head?” “Well, if that’s their misfortune,” Permasenzky said, “why should it be mine, too? Besides, mommer, I’ve done enough for your relations.” “Suppose they are my relations?”’ Mrs. Permasenzky said, with an hysterical inflection that made Permasenzky retire further and further béhind his paper, and even hunch his shoulders against what he rightly believed to be the coming storm. “Have you got any relations of your own? Have you got any children? Have you got any brothers and sisters, nieces, or nephews? Have you got any cdusins, even? Who else have you got to help out besides my relations?” “There are orphan asylums, ain’t there?’ Permasenzky pro- tested feebly from behind his paper. “Mishbocha comes first, then orphan asylums,” Mrs. Perma- senzky said, and therewith started a tearful harangue which lasted until her bedtime. In it she outlined so graphically the neglected and solitary condition of Permasenzky, supposing, Gott soll huten, anything should happen to his wife, that, before the lecture was half over, he had well-nigh come to believe that he practically owed Harris Fishbein and Milton Hirshkind a moving-picture theater, if only as a payment in advance for cheering his loneliness as a widower. At any rate, of one thing “Ain’t it he was entirely convinced: Unless he could devise some desperate measures for preventing it, those two fakers would get that theater out of him or he would never again be able to spend a peaceful night at home. If only he had some poor relations of his own w hose needy con- dition he could advance as an argument against his wife’s impor- tunate relations! If only there were some cousin, some person bearing his same almost unpronounceable name with whom he might claim a distant relationship not too distant to use in abatement of this continual drain upon his finances! But no, he reflected; there was not one other Permasenzky listed in the telephone directory or the city directory. In fact, there was not another Permasenzky in the entire world, he said confidently to himself, and then occurred one of those telepathic phenomena which almost baffle explanation, but which, nevertheless, are of such common experience that they hardly come under the head of phenomena at all, for, call it what you will—accident, pure coincidence, or the merest chance—no sooner had Simon Permasenzky said to himself that there was not another Perma- senzky in the entire world than he began to read the following news-item, headed: FIREMAN RESCUES THREE CHILDREN AT EAST SIDE FIRE Three children, one of them an infant, were rescued from the top floor of a tenement at 771 East 22d Street shortly before mid- night yesterday. The infant, Jacob Permasenzky, aged five months, was carried down a ladder by Lieut. John J. Larkin, of Engine Company 22, amid the cheers of a throng of spectators —— Three times Permasenzky read over the news-story, and three times he passed in mental review the personalities and names of his relations, beginning with his great-grandfather, the father of the celebrated Permasenz Rav. He could account for them all, and on his third enumeration of them, they were all just as dead as on his first. ““Couldn’t be,’’ he murmured to himself. tions of mine.” For at least a quarter of an hour, he sat in deep thought, with the paper in his hand, and then he turned in his chair and faced the door through which his wife had disappeared. “But suppose they ain’t?” he said, quite aloud. “I could any- how claim them, couldn’t I?” “They ain’t no r ela- II Hap Simon Permasenzky searched the universe over to turn up a sufficiently poor-looking lot of poor relations, it is inconceivable that he could have discovered a family more adapted to his pur- pose than the rescued Permasenzkys. Indeed, so desperate was their appearance when Simon sought them out at ten o’clock on the morning following the fire, that, on the impulse of the mo- ment, he had handed the father of the three children a ten-dollar bill, and when Simon handed anybody even a one-dollar bill on the impulse of the moment, it had to be a most heart-wringing moment. The rooms in which he found them had not been injured by the fire, which had been confined to the flat below, but even if it had spread to the rest of the building, any furniture it could have con- sumed in the Permasenzky rooms would not have substantially increased the monetary loss it had already caused. Never had Simon viewed the plain evidences and the plainer victims of such abject poverty, and he felt so elated at the prospect of exhibiting them to his wife as a bar to all further claims against him by her own poor relations that he failed to reckon the relative costs of a moving-picture theater and of rehabilitating a family so utterly gone to seed as this one unquestionably must be. “Tell me, Landsmann,” he said to the father, not by way of establishing relationship but for the purpose of explaining the coincidence of the family’s name, “‘are you any Mishbocha of the great Parmasenz Rav.” The fire-sufferer, whose name, it appeared, was Koppel Per- masenzky, shrugged his narrow shoulders. “‘T never heard tell of him,” he said. “What! Simon exclaimed. ‘You are coming from Permasenz, and you never heard tell of the big Permasenz Rav? Why, he was my own grandfather! In fact, all the Permasenzkys is from the same Mishbocha.” And then it was that Simon could clearly attribute the family’s poverty to its proper cause—that is, having a born fool for a father. Here, Simon argued, was a penniless buttonhole maker, for such he conceived to be Koppel’s trade, confronted by the

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“So,” Simon observed; “you don't always wear such stylish clothes, I see” opportunity to claim relationship with an obviously well-to-do- merchant, and instead of embracing it, the poor Schlemiel thrust it from him by sticking sternly to the truth. _ “Well, Pll tell you,” Koppel said. “The fact is, my real name is Koppel Berlin, and when me and my family left Kalvaria, we didn’t got no passport, but we managed to get across the frontier as far as Permasenz; so, afterward when I went to Posen to get a ticket for America and the feller asked me what is my name, y understand, I did really and truly tell him, ‘Berlin’, and when he says, ‘Where do you live?’ understand me I told him, ‘Perma- senz.’ Aber, when I come back to Permasenz the next day, I see that the ticket says my name is Permasenz and I come from Ber- lin, but if I would go back to Posen from Permasenz it costs me to correct the mistake three marks fifty pfennig fourth class. I took the name Permasenzky, which means a feller that comes from, Permasenz, and I would like to talk to you all day, mister, but, if you would excuse me,-I got business to attend to.” “Now, listen,” Simon said: “You ain’t got no more im- portant business anywheres than the business you’ve got with me.” “With you?” Koppel exclaimed. ‘Why, I don’t even know what business you are in at all.” ‘““What difference does it make to you what business I am in?” Simon demanded. ‘When Elia Hanove kept filling up the wid- der’s oil-pitcher, did she bother her head whether he represented Standard Oil, Pure Oil, oder Texas Oil? Oser! She took the oil and shut up her mouth, and you should do the same till I get through.” After Simon had made this statement, Koppel began to nod his head slowly in the fashion of a man over whom a great light has just broken, for nobody is so poor in this rich land of ours that sometime or other somebody has not tried to sell him oil stock. Koppel therefore shut his ears to all Simon’s conversation following this introduction until he heard Simon enunciate the words: ‘‘Ten dollars a week.” ‘But, mister,” he started to protest, “I ain’t——” 29 ona on of al SSN le k n g RS | |

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30 “ Koosh!” Simon bellowed. ‘I couldn’t stay here all morning; so I tell you what I’ll do. I'll pay you eleven dollars a week for a minimum of six weeks, and that is my last word.” Koppel screwed up one eye and made it appear that he was con- sidering the proposition. He didn’t care to confess that he had not been listening to what Simon had been saying, but since all he had gathered was that Simon offered to pay him eleven dollars a week for a minimum of six weeks, he played safe and shook his head. “Twelve dollars a week for a minimum of eight weeks is the best I could do,” he said firmly, although he hadn’t the faintest idea in the world what it was that he had been asked to do. “Then you and your whole family can go and starve for all I care,” Simon declared, putting on his hat so vigorously that it sounded as though somebody had struck a tambourine. “Wait a minute,” Koppel said. ‘Tell me the proposition again. Might I didn’t hear it right the first time maybe.” “‘What is there to hear right?” Simon demanded. “All Iam asking you is that you should let on to my wife that you are my first cousin which I ain’t seen since I left Permasenz forty years ago, and that these are your three children, which is true, and that this here lady is your wife.” Simon nodded in the direction of Koppel’s family, who had grouped themselves in the doorway. “But suppose you do want to help Regens- burger protested. “How can them out,” you help them out if you ain't got any?” Cousins of Convenience “And when do [I let this on to your wife?”’ Koppel asked. “To-morrow afternoon I would bring her down here,”’ Simon said, ‘‘and don’t touch a thing till I get her here.” He turned toward Koppel’s wife. ‘You understand, missis?” he said. “My wife must got to see the place like it is now. Don’t clean up a thing.” “Tt’s all right,” Koppel assured him. way.” “Then the only thing now is that I should tell you something about my family,” Simon said. ‘‘So get this straight, and you, too, missis, in case my wife should try to check up on me. Now, let me see—what did you say your father’s name was?” “T didn’t say it was anything,” Koppel replied, ‘‘but, as a matter of fact, his name was Akiba.” “Then we'll have to call him something else,” Simon declared. “Why, what’s the matter with Akiba?”’ Koppel asked. “The matter is that if a woman has been married for twenty- five years to a man who has told her right straight along that he ain’t got a relation in the world, v’understand, and then one fine day all of a sudden he comes across with an uncle by the name Akiba, how could he have the nerve to say to her, ‘Why, I thought I told you years ago already that I had an uncle Akiba’? Simon said. ‘‘So we will say you are the son of my father’s brother Jake, because I might get away with it that I told her about an uncle Jake, because a name like Jake you could forget, but a name like Akiba nobody could forget.” “Schon gut!’ Koppel said, with another shrug of his narrow shoulders. ‘‘ My father’s name was Jake. Now, what else do I tell her when she comes?” “Don’t tell her nothing,” Simon said. ‘“‘I will do all the telling that is necessary, and all you will do is to say that I am right.” Once more he surveyed the utterly destitute appearance of his namesakes, and he could hardly forbear a chuckle in anticipation of the shock his wife was due to receive the next afternoon. Cousin Tilly, in his wife’s last year’s suit, looked positively a princess compared with the unfortunate mother of these three anemic children, and as for Harris Fishbein, placed by the side of the miserable Koppel in his threadbare, time-stained gar- ments, he might have passed for a banker whose artistic tastes made him a trifle careless about his clothing—but, nevertheless, a banker. “‘T suppose,”’ Simon said, as he prepared to leave, ‘you must think I am crazy or something.” For the third time, Koppel shrugged his stooping shoulders. “Say!” he exclaimed. ‘‘Even crazy people has got their rea- sons for acting crazy, which whatever else I think you are, Mr. Permasenz, I also think you are a man of your word. Anyhow, I hope so.” “Don’t worry,” Simon said, shaking hands cordially with his adopted cousin. ‘If you will do your share, I will do mine.” wouldn’t, any- Ill WHILE Simon sat in the Twenty-third Street cross- town car on his way back to his place of business, he turned over and over in his mind just how he would. break the news that eve- ning. But he discovered, on entering his office, that it would be imperative to disclose the matter sooner, for at his roll-top desk sat Mrs. Permasenzky, and the i first words she uttered “were: “Nu, popper, where was you all morning? I’ve been sitting here since ten o’clock already.” “Hello, mommer!” he cried, and it is pertinent here to say that his use of the word ‘‘mommer” was affectionate and not de- scriptive, for they had al- ways been childless. ‘What brings vou down-town?” < rf 4 FL J q

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Koppel screwed up one eye and made it appear that he was considering the proposition “Why, I had an appointment for a quarter past ten with this gentleman here,’”’ Mrs. Permasenzky said, and then, for the first time, Simon noticed the presence of a person, not to say a person- ality, whose presence it ought to have been impossible not to notice. At any rate, that was the intention of the visitor’s cos- tume and make-up, which combined the more salient character- istics of Paderewski and Beethoven with just a suggestion of Edgar Allan Poe. That is to say, the face was Beethoven’s, the hair Paderewski’s, and the high black stock and soft collar were Edgar Allan Poe’s, while the whole was enhanced and set off by the long navy-blue cloak made familier to the American pub- lic through the recent photographs of Mr. William Jennings Bryan. “T don’t got to tell you that my time is valuable, Mr. Perrra- senzky,”’ said this arresting personality, ‘‘so, if you don’t mind, we would get right down to cases.”’ “What cases?” Simon exclaimed, and the romantic figure with the unromantic line of conversation turned inquiringly to Mrs. Permasenzky. “This is Mr. Regensburger, the gentleman what is going to sell the moving-picture theayter to Harris and Milton,” Mrs. Permasenzky explained, and Mr. Regensburger bowed. “Tt’s a big opportunity for them two fellers, Mr. Perma- senzky,” he said, ‘‘and I assure you you wouldn’t regret advanc- ing them the money to swing the deal.” ‘‘Who says I am going to advance the money?” Simon de- manded. Advance!’ Give! What’s the difference? Mrs. Perma- senzky broke in. ‘What Mr. Regensburger come here for is to settle the details and not argue about whether the money would be a loan or a gift.” “Tn especially with relations,’ Regensburger said, ‘“‘sometimes, with relations, you make a loan and it turns out to be a gift, and sometimes you make them a loan and kiss the money good- by, y’understand, and the first thing you know, they could knock you down with a feather by returning the whole amount with interest at six per cent. Believe me, I have had experience both ways, and I never regretted it either way. So, therefore, the proposition is this: I am practically selling the theayter on the instalment plan. The purchase-price is to be fifteen thou- sand dollars, payable out of the gross receipts monthly, with a nominal cash payment, on signing the contract, of two thousand dollars.” “Two thousand dollars’!” Simou “xclaimed. ‘And I should 3 give tlem Schnorrers two thousand dollars to go into the moving- picture business and leave my own relations to starve!” “Your own what?” Mrs. Permasenzky cried, but Simon had no intention of stopping for explanations until he had worked himself up to the right pitch, for, while .he was probably not aware of it, he was nevertheless correctly following a rule of the theater that if necessary explanation can be put over with suf- ficient dramatic intensity, the audience will not realize how spurious it is. ‘‘Ain’t blood redder than water?” he continued, in a rapid cresendo. ‘Should I take the bread out of the mouth of my own flesh and blood and feed it to strangers? Should I have on my conscience the lives of them five poor people nebich so as a tubist could paint mornings? Ain’t I got no heart? Ain’t I got no conscience?” “Say, look here,’ Mrs. Permasenzky broke in: “What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy or something?” ‘*Crazy,’ she says!’ he shouted. ‘For years already, all my relations by marriage has been sucking my blood, and now, for the first time in my life, I want to help out a few of my own poor relations, and she says I am crazy yet!” “But suppose you do want to help them out,”’ Regensburger protested. ‘How can you help them out if you ain’t got any?” “Who says I ain’t got any?” Simon bellowed, and Regens- burger made a gesture with his right hand as though Simon had been a too strident trumpet player in a performance by the Vendome orchestra. “Say! Say!” he interrupted. ‘Don’t holler at me! For my part, you could be eaten up with poor relations. What is it my business? All I know about your family is what this here lady is telling me.” “And I am telling you the truth, Mr. Regensburger,” Mrs. Permasenzky declared. ‘He ain’t got a relation in the world, rich or poor.” “Ts that so?’ Simon said. ‘Well, supposing I should tell you that I am spending the whole morning with my cousin Koppel?” “Your cousin what?” Mrs. Permasenzky cried. “My cousin Koppel,” Simon continued, ‘and his wife and three children, which the youngest, Jake, is only five months old, and when the fireman carried him down the ladder, there wasn’t a sound out of him.” He was now outwardly quite calm, and only a pulse that beat in his cheek indicated the nervousness with which he awaited Mrs. Permasenzky’s reception of the (Continued on page 138) 4 i ree side rar- tes ess, ust e€a- [r. 7,1 iid, his do the Ss- ick he his uld on it to er, sat ke ed en ck he nt of ras le- al- at 4

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Bruised Reed Illustrated by P. A. Carter T’LL all be all right some day—won’t it, Susie?” She was silent. ‘“‘Susie——” She'still was silent. He put his armsround her. Each was nineteen, and they had cared for each other as long as they could remember. It had been a secret that they had guarded from everyone in the village of Crystal Springs. It had had to be a secret, for her father hated his, and his hated hers, and everybody who lived in the neighborhood knew of the old feud that had begun before the Civil War between the fathers of the boys who were now old men, and whose children—the grand- children of the feud—had found a new love as intensely passion- ate as the old hate. Both Arthur Crane and Jep Williams were proud of the feud. And their neighbors, who had no grand pas- sions, either of hate or love, kept green the quarrel. The feud, indeed, was the endless drama of the countryside. Each man truly stood superior to his neighbors; each had a finer house and finer properties; each was of a sterner fiber of charac- ter and a higher type of intelligence, and the sheer congeniality of class might have brought them together in a friendship power- ful enough to satisfy their violent natures if each had not re- garded the other with a fundamental intolerance. Deep within himself, each had a philosophy that was opposed to the philosophy of the other; so that they could not have coped with their ha- tred of one another if they had wished—not even if they had met suavely, as two gentlemen of the polite world, in the polite drawing-rooms of a sensitive and calm civilization, instead of dwelling, as they did, on the primitive slopes of the Ozark Moun- tains—living as neighbors in a little town in Arkansas, and never “How do I know what he wants to du now? You stopped me writing to him. How do I know what he promised in that letter?"’ Something snapped int» place in Dick’s mind at her words- a final judgment on her hesitating to fling fresh fuel into the flame of their burning antagonism. The chill of the night touched Susie through the warmth of Dick’s embrace. She shivered. “Don’t be afraid, Susie; nothing’s going to happen,” he com- forted. “T’m not afraid,” she said steadily. “No, no,” he hastened; “I didn’t mean you was really afraid —you’re brave enough, or you wouldn’t come here every night.” They were standing in the ruins of the haunted house on the biuff above a rushing stream in the valley near the town. It was the one spot where neither the children ever went to adven- ture, nor the negroes to hunt and fish, nor even the lovers to be alone. Traditions made the very locality shunned. But Susie and Dick had dared its dangers, ghostly or real, since they were fifteen and had looked with dumb yearning at each other as the boys and the girls of the village began to pair off. Here ig ey >, 333 ; = F 4 \ \ \ \ \ & € | 22

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they had found each other—and here their difficult friendship f had turned into a tremulous, fairylike happiness. When they were seventeen, they talked about getting married. “We'll have to wait,” Susie had said. ““We’]! be old enough pretty soon,” Dick had said. It was very usual for the boys of Crystal Springs to become bridegrooms 1 when, they were eighteen, and the girls sometimes bravely ’ stepped forward toward the future as wives and mothers when ; they were younger by two or three years. ““Oh—but—we'll have to wait, anyway,” Susie repeated. : “Why?” he asked evasively. j “You know why as good as I do,” she said. And indeed he , did know why. “I wish you’d try to get friendly with Emma,” he told her once. Emma was his sister. “ She wouldn’t,” Susie answered. But she did try, and Emma, who.was more than a year older A remarkable love-drama of the Ozarks By Zoé Akins the young playwright who wrote ‘ Declassée,”’ @ drama of high life in which Ethel Barry- more has achieved probably the greatest triumph of her career than Susie, responded. Emma was something of an adventuress. She loved sensations, and even a furtive friendship with the shyest girl in the town—a girl much younger than her- self, and strangely quiet and gentle—was not without interest, since the simple idea of it was, by reason of the feud, a dark- ly forbidden thing. Dick'was very proud of Susie’s success with his sister. It seemed to make their marriage less far away and impossible. For three years, the girls con- tinued to “speak,” and to “speak” meant, for Emma and Susie, that they. were friends, al- though there was no inti- macy between them. Emma, during this time wondering frequently why Susie smiled at her so tenderly and seemed so humbly eager to please andserve, never suspected that it was because of the girl’s great love for her brother. Dick and Susie kept their secret well, until the time when, quite suddenly, it seemed that the world was watching them. On their way to the haunted house, they began to meet people who grinned and stared at them with curious, knowing eyes. After a few days and nights of this furtive espion- age, they confessed it to each other, in vague uneasiness. “Say, Susie—” Dick began. “Ves, Dick?” “Have you never told nobody about this place—and me “T never told about you, Dick; but maybe you told somebody something without knowing it.” “Why would I go telling anybody anything?” “T don’t know, Dick.” “Then you never let on to nobody—about anything?” There was a long pause. She looked away from him. “Not about you,” she repeated stubbornly, in a low voice. “What did you tell?” he urged. She had never known him so fierce with her. “It’s got nothing to do with us,” she evaded. why—” But he interrupted. “Maybe you don’t see what 1 do every time I come this way,” he hinted. “I’ve been meeting people who seemed to be just walking along,” she admitted. “And watching:”’ “Ves,” She moved and started to rise. But he drew her down to the log on which they had been sitting, their backs against one of the fallen brick walls of the roofless ruins. Twilight had turned sharply into night—black night. The moon would rise premntiy 39) “T don’t know =

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to light them home, but for the moment there was only impene- trable darkness. He put both arms round her. “Tell me—don’t be afraid—if you told anybody anything,” he begged, “because I ought to know.” “Oh, Dicky!” she cried, unable to resist with her secret longer. “1 only told Emma about this place.” He grew rigid and then relaxed. “She’d be afraid,” he said scornfully. “Did you say anything about us?” “No, I never. She was so sweet tome. She’s in love, too— with a fellow from Kansas City. He comes here two or three times a year to sell things to Parsons’ store. They’re going to get married—like us—some day. And they haven’t any place to see each other—like us—because she’s afraid of your papa and don’t mean to tell him yet. I told her if she wanted to come here it was a good place to come, because it wasn’t haunted at all, because I’d been here myself.” For a few minutes there was silence. Then Susie added wist- fully, afraid that Dick was very cross with her, ““Emma kissed me.” “You oughtn’t to told her,” he said soberly. “She promised not to tell.” “She might see us.” “He was just going to be here one night, and I told you I couldn’t come that night.” “ *Tisn’t right for her to come here alone witha man,” he argued. “1 come here with you, don’t I?” “She’s told something, all right. 1 know she has. People are always watching to see who comes up the bluff now.” “We'll have to come later, then—after it’s real dark.” But Emma had not told anyone. A half-drunken tramp had come into Parsons’ store one morning with a maudlin tale about a dying mother. He approached the ‘fellow from Kansas City” with a request for two dollars for a railroad ticket. L’ander Jenks came with a glass of cold water, freshly drawn from the cistern The Bruised Reed “You got your nerve, by George!”’ the man from Kansas City said hotly. “You know your mother is no more dying than I am, and if she was, you wouldn’t care. Two dollars! What do you think I am, an easy mark? Here, John,” he called out to John Parsons; “throw this bum out of your store if you expect decent people to stay init. He’s nutty as well as drunk.” But the tramp turned fiercely before John Parsons’ good- natured grin had vanished—and before the laughter of the group that had gathered at the loud, explosive words had died down. “God!” he jerked out, in a voice that caught their attention sharply. “Nutty, am I? Drunk, am I? Well, I washn’t so drunk or so nutty, either, that I didn’t see you with that girl last night in that God-forsaken house on the bluff over there.” The man from Kansas City had turned ashen, but he regained his composure quickly. “He’s lying,” he said. ‘‘You wouldn’t get me to go near that place, and you can bet no girl would—not if she was raised around here.” This sounded convincing, but so did the un- pleasant laughter of the tramp. “Lying, am I? I’m a liar, too, 1 guess! A’right, then—I’m a liar. I’m nutty, and I’m drunk; but there’s some girl in this town thatsh not afraid of that house on the bluff——” “Get out!” said John Parsons. ‘Shut up now, and get out!” Both the tramp and the man from Kansas City left Crystal Springs that day; but it was another man who came several months later to take Parsons’ order for the Kansas City firm. So potent was the sinister spell of the haunted house that no one followed Susie Crane or Dick Williams beyond the foot- bridge up the twisted path that ascended the bluff; but many eyes had watched them on their way, and had watched them return, separate, and go—each in a different direction—home. No news had ever caused a more ominous sensation in the vil- Jage. Men stopped their work to discuss what could and should be done, and to recall all the details of the long legend of hate that existed between the fathers of tne two. “Somebody ought to tell ’em to quit it,” was the general con- sensus of opinion. “But who? She’s always seemed like a good little kid. He’s to blame. He ought to marry her.” “You see Jep Williams letting his boy marry Art Crane’s girl any time, let alone now, after what’s known about her and that traveling man!” “Nobody seen her with him. Maybe she ain’t the one. Nobody’s seen her with nobody but Dick Williams.” “‘Nobody’s seen no other girl go up the bluff.” “That’s not saying no other girl never did.” “God knows what Jep Williams will do when he catches > “God help Art Crane when he finds his girl’s been run- ning wild with Jep Williams’ boy!” “That tramp was mad and drunk both; maybe he didn’t see anything wrong. Maybe he was just lying.” “Tt’s bad enough—her meeting Dick Williams like that. She’s a sly one.” Such was the talk, as that late summer wore away, of the men in Crystal Springs. So grave, indeed, did the situation seem to them, withits possibilities of swift tragedy, that they said little to their women folk, and when they spoke of it at all to them, it was in a whisper, and with a tense warning. “For God’s sake, keep your mouth shut and don’t talk! There’s going to be trouble enough.” And the two young lovers<continued to meet in the roof- less house on the bluff, under a starlit void that seemed to them, as they sometimes gazed helplessly toward heaven, the floor upon which walked a strangely indifferent God. Susie and Dick had not failed to remember their Creator in these hopeless days of their passionate and troubled youth. But their prayers had not served to make life easier, or the future less dark, or their Creator more concerned. “We'll just go away together where they can't find us and get married,”’ Dick had at last insisted. “Where could we go? ~=What could we do?” “The City, maybe. I could get work.” “What doing?” He could not answer. Since leaving school, he had tried vari- ous jobs; but he had been able to acquit himself creditably in none of the careers that the village offered. So his father had put him to work, rather aimlessly, on his stock farm. This acknowledg- ment of failure had made Dick more uncertain and more hope- Jess than ever. It seemed to him that he was good for nothing— except to love Susie. Love, indeed, was like a lassitude upon his soul and his body. But he answered her bravely, on head

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“We'll just go away together where they can't find us and get married,” Dick had at last insisted. “Where could we go? “] can get work on a farm somewhere.” She knew what that meant—separation while he worked day and night, and only a few dollars at the end of each month. He was at the mercy, as far as a livelihood was concerned, of his father. “No,” she said. He looked at her broodingly. “It can’t go on like this. Other folks get married. It’s got to come all right.” “Maybe it will, and maybe not.” “Tt’s got to!” The autumn came with suddenly cool nights, but the heat of the days remained, for a while, unshattered. Mrs. Williams, who loved flowers, was wary enough to take hers in early. “T wish Dick and his sister wouldn’t fuss,” she said to herself, one Sunday afternoon, as she stripped the dead leaves from the What could we do?” geraniums ranged in long rows on the sunlit end of the back porch. ‘“‘1t frets their papa for them to fuss, and he’s got enough to fret him now—with Dick and that girl— I guess I’ll go up now and get a little nap.” So, dulled by the usual Sunday-afternoon lethargy, she did not trouble to go into the front room and remonstrate against her children’s quarreling. She climbed the stairs, while the low, tense voices ran on, stormily and swiftly. “You know it was you, not Susie Crane, with that traveling man!” “Tt was not! If Susie Crane told you that lie——’ “Take that back! Take it back! Susie never told a lie in her Jife!” “How do you know?” The sneer in her voice brought a sob to his lips. ’ s City than | out to 4 xpect ‘ood roup vn. it so | ig ained ise un- 4 this stal oot- 4 d e 1. t do

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She fung heveslf down on her knees beside the still figure lying sprawled in the old, low rocking-chair. “Jep!” she moaned. the face of his enemy. “You—oughtn't to—done—it.”” he whispered. “Maybe I oughtn't,”” Art Crane whispered “Shut your mouth,” he cried, “you—you liar, and sneak, and —and I don’t know what else-you are!” She suddenly grew rigid. “If you say another word, Dick Williams, I'll go tell papa. You keep on, and I'll tell papa.” He, too, grew rigid. “Tf you go trying to make any more trouble,” he threatened solemnly, “11 tell papa myself. 1’ll tell him about that traveling man “He wouldn’t believe Susie Crane before he’d believe his own daughter.” She thought she had him there. and an ugly smile of triumph glistened at him from her flushed angry face. But he tunes to her an equally ugly smile. “You just try,” he said, “and I'll give papa a letter that came to you from Kansas City about two months back.” He had beaten her; but she did not let her pretense die easily. ‘“‘] —don’t know what you mean,” she said haltingly. “T know what I mean.” “You’re—just bluffing. There wasn’t no letter. You wouldn’t keep a letter that came two months ago—and not give it to me.” She was trying to shake some information from him. _ A wild hope that there had been such a letter tore through her fear that her brother held such evidence against her. “1 got a letter that come to you from Kansas City two months ago,”’ he repeated stonily. She believed him. | a ¥ be 1 = 4 q | t 4 ‘ :

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“Jep!’ He opened his eyes, but their gaze went beyond her to back. “Maybe you was acting like a gentleman all along” “Vou give me that letter!” she cried furiously. He did not answer. ‘‘You sneak!” she screamed. “Papa will hear you,” he said quietly. “Vou give me that letter!” “You go to papa and tell him it was you with that traveling man that time and I will.” The look that she turned to him shook him a little. “I w-won’t,” she whimpered. Then she added brokenly, timidly, ‘‘What—what did he say—in the letter?” “T never opened the letter,’”’ he said. “Then, how do you know——” “1 know, and you know.” Relief and disappointment, hope and despair, defeat and fear-— 37 all swept over her, bowing her head and bringing tears. It was not easy for Emma to cry. ““What—are—you—going to do?” she asked. don’t know.” ““P-papa wouldn’t let you marry her nohow,” she argued, “not even if he knew she wasn’t—wasn’t what people say about her.” (There was too much truth in this. Yet he felt that the graver complica- tion must instantly be cleared away —the definite scandal that his father had heard and accepted, with a cer- tain relief, against Susie. It had vitally affected Jep Williams’ atti- tude toward the situation. It had made him able to Jaugh when Dick had persisted that “there hadn’t been anything wrong” and he meant to marry Susie Crane. Dick’s mother had heard the tale first, and she had heard, naturally, the full horror of the tramp’s revelations about the girl, believed to be Susie, and the man from Kansas City. In- deed, the tramp’s nasty insinuations had been turned by the gossips into nasty facts—facts that placed Dick Williams in the light of a victim rather than a villain, if one chose to believe, as most people did, that his romance with Susie was not an inno- cent one. But his mother, with her prim certainty that “he was a good boy,” was not content with her son’s blamelessness, in her own eyes, of any wrong to the girl; she was un- easy for fear of a wrong that the girl might put upon him. So Mrs. Wil- liams, who was perhaps the only person in the village except Mrs. Crane who had tried scrupulously and persistently through al] the years to prevent trouble between the two men, reluctantly went to her husband with the tale. It had been strange to Jep Wil- liams to find that his usually meek son had such a power of wrath as that which lifted him suddenly to a manly violence as great as his father’s when the boy heard, for the first time, in what mean estimation the girl he loved was held—what shameful things were said and be- lieved of her. But at his father’s taunting laugh, Dick had suddenly turned and left nim. Jep Williams thought that he had silenced his son; but Dick had gone to find Emma.) “Papa’s got to know it was you and not Susie that tramp saw,” Dick insisted stubbornly. “It won’t do no good now,” she pleaded, “and after the things everybody’s been saying—” She couldn’t go on. If he had not loved Susie so much, Dick would have pitied his sister. “You can go get Susie and run away and get married,” Emma said—almost enviously. “Not with people thinking her bad and me easy; papa and her papa have to stop tneir foolishness and let us get married right.” The difficulties that formerly had seemed so tragically insur- mountable appeared to him now as trivial and ridiculous; the feud was only the silly talk of hard-headed old men. Even his own failure to have won some sort of financial independence was nothing now. His mind had been too full of love; he realized that he had never put his strength to any job. His failures had been unimportant because they had not resulted from tests of himself. What was vita] and desperate, indeed, was this cloud of darkness about Susie—this lie. And it (Continued on page 113) 2 f 4 : as ‘

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D? we greatly underestimate our sychic powers? Can we recover lost laws of the unwverse that will lead to the abolishing of Death and other wonders? Mr. King discusses what seems to him the most imperative task before the world—continuing the series, “The Everlasting Doors.” “T know thy works, and thy labour, and thy patience, and how thou canst not bear them which are evil. . . . Never- theless I have somewhat against thee, be-ause thou hast left thy first love. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works.” Book of the Revelation HE tendency to segregate the phenomena we class as psychic into a group by themselves slightly capricious and abnormal contributes, I think, to our lack of understanding of their laws. The water- tight-compartment view of creation is here as elsewhere a mental obstacle to progress. We separate the spiritual life from what we call the natural life, and the psychic from the spiritual, taking them as isolated factors and not as blends. So we keep marking time on the same spot, unable to go forward. A large majority of people with conservative minds re- gard the psychic as the hand-laborers of eighty years ago looked upon machinery. They are afraid of it. From their dread of it, one might infer that there is an element in nature that God never made. Viewing it apart from all that they consider as God’s handiwork, they see it as occultism or black magic. To many of us at present, the mere idea of thought that penetrates from plane to plane is an insult to our sense of limitation. Of the many things we love, it is possible that we love our sense of limitation best—our inabili- ties, circumscriptions, prohibitions, inhibitions, incapacities, and diseases. My object in the present paper is to suggest—I can do no more—that our powers may have a wider range than that we generally ascribe to them, and that by taking our psychical a f Oy if \\ 4 af “a

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ad Basil King Decorations by F. X. Leyendecker gifts in conjunction with the rest of God’s universe we may get a juster view of their significance. As in my previous articles, all quotations ascribed to Henry Talbot come to me by automatic writing on the part of a young lady. Much that I have already given was in answer to ques- tions of my own. All I cite in this article, however, was a spon- taneous outpouring, written with the utmost rapidity, and requiring only verbal correction on the part of the “trans- mitter’’ or myself. This verbal correction never amounts to more'than the occasional suppression of redundant words, or the insertion of a word omitted in the speed of transcription. Of the source of this writing, my first paper in this series, “The Everlasting Doors,” will explain my present frame of mind, I think it possible, making the suggestion for what it is worth, that the subliminal mind of every individual may be in contact with spiritual illumination which often becomes blurred by the time it has reached the consciousness. A main purpose of these papers will be to draw the attention of my reader to powers he possesses in himself and the vastness of the human personality. What comes through the modern methods we call “psychic” may be no more than what a single beam brings to us of sunlight; but, at least, it may be as much as that. When I have added that the name, ‘Henry Talbot,” which I chose at random, conceals another name which I do not feel at liberty to put into print, I shall have told all that is necessary for the understanding of the present article. I THE solution of at least some of the problems we class as psychic is perhaps delayed by our failure to understand the unity of life. By life, I mean not merely the force which X. Leycndecker 39 3 Dr » ty WS ery * SS ly d a e e |

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40 enables what we call the animate creation to exercise its functions but all expression of that Universal Mind which doubtless most of my readers accept as the Universal Source. The quality of unity is implied in the very word “universe,” the coiners of language speaking more wisely than they knew. Through the unity of Mind, we are beginning to perceive a unity of design in which no grain of sand or blade of grassis without a permanent significance. While this is not the place to go extensively into the modern theory of a coordinated universe, I must point out the fact that coordination brings cooperation as a neces- sary consequence. We live in a coopera- tive universe. Every concept of God helps every other concept. Strictly understood, there can exist between divine ideas neither hostility nor rivalry. All things must worx together for good, and for good only. Where there is warfare and mutual destruction, we must ‘take for granted a dislocation of his principles which has perverted good into evil. Writing on this point, Henry Talbot says: “The degree of intellectual development is the only superiority man has over his fel- low creatures. This has been given him by God to serve as a guide and helper to those expressions of the Supreme Mind which rely on man to lead them. The fact that man has neglected this sacred trust, looking on the animals and the fruits of the earth as slaves and not as brothers, tyrannizing over them, and subjecting them to his own will rather than to God’s, accounts for many ways in which creation has apparently gone wrong. This fact has brought to pass the present conditions of life, in which not only does man fight against man, but beast against beast, plant against plant, and the elements against them all.” Elsewhere, he says: “You can readily see how lack of control of his energies on the part of man led to the misguiding of his power and produced evil. This evil gathered strength, because the impetus of divine passion, once started, must continue, and that which is so full of force for good becomes easily a force for evil when it is perverted. Evil having once taken root in the heart of man, he proceeded to misuse not only divine passion but all the living creatures of God with which he found himself surrounded. He abused the fruit of the earth which brought forth sustenance for him and his children, causing thereby the deteriora- tion of both soil and plant. He abused the animals, subjecting those of pliant nature to his yoke, and causing the fiercer to rebel. Thus began the age-long battle between man and beast, whereby man drove the beast into the wilds and caused the gulf of terror to divide those two equally loved creations of God. That which man was given to help he oppressed and repulsed, thus delaying by thousands of years the development which the animals would have acquired from his guidance and cooperation. The ani- mals, thrust back upon themselves, ran wild and pro- duced evil—whole species whose mission, apparently, is only to take part with the destructive forces.” “The elements,” he continues later, “were also affected. The rain, the wind, the sun, the earth, the sea, which have their own natures to develop along lines incom- prehensible to you, found themselves at vari- ance with man and the world he had made for himself. I myself do not understand this; but I am told that if you lived in perfect truth—that is, in harmony—you would have nothing to fear from manifestations of nature. The natural laws would not be subject to you, but as coexpressions of God would blend constructively with all your actions.”’ It may not be out of place here to refer the reader to at least one occasion on which a great harmonious spirit produced har- mony in the elements around him. “And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? Then he arose and re- buked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.” It is not necessary to see here, as past generations have supposed, a capri- cious interference with natural phenomena. Rather, it would seem to be the knowledge of one of those high spiritual laws at which modern discovery is only beginning timidly to hint. It may be fantastic now to suggest that man should one day find that there is a relation between his own state of mind and conditions of storm and calm; but there are plenty of data in human history to indicate that it may be even so. There was a time, not so long ago, when death or devastation by earthquake, shipwreck, or similar calamity was legally described as being “‘by the act of God.” To-day, we are beginning to descry faintly, and with the fluttering distrust of people who believe a thing to be too good to be true, a universe of which the forces are meant to work with us and not against us; but to reach that cooperative sympathy, the impulse must first come from ourselves. Perhaps nothing tends to displace the bal- ance of the scheme of things more directly than man’s overestimate of himself as the favorite son. He forgets to see the equal dis- tribution of God’s love as a supreme factor in the right working of universal law. That love is extended not only to expressions of himself but to those reexpressions of himself which spring directly from our own effort and intelligence. “Man,” according to Henry Talbot, “is no more the child of God than is a peach tree or a locomotive; he has no greater share in the divine affection. But rather than mini- mize the love of God for man, we should mag- nify the love of God for all his creatures or expressions. Realize the love which you give your children, multiply that by infinity, and then conceive of the affection which the Father gives to the least petal on a dande- lion which you tread under foot.” This love, he goes on to emphasize, is not limited to the (Continued on page 128) \ ¥ 4 i ;

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4 | >» INDRA. 7 fe q 41

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Star-Dust Illustrated by James Montgomery Flagg The story of a girl who dared to lead her own hfe HE is Lily Becker, of St. Louis, ~~ .4 who, from childhood, has dreamed ~~~ glorious dreams of achievement. She wants to be a great singer. She hates her commonplace environment, yet her will has not been strong enough to break its chains. When only eigh- teen, she permits her dull, crdinary parents to marry her to dull,ordinary Albert Penny, a hardware sales- man. In a month, she re- volts, and disappears without a trace. Freedom to work out her career she must have. She arrives in New York with a few hun dred dollars, and illusion after illusion begins to van- ish. A promising vaude- ville engagement ends abruptly on the unwel- come advances of Robert Visigoth, proprietor of a ereat circuit. Then comes the discovery that in a few months she will be a mother. These months are filled with tragic hap- penings. She is turned out cf her living-place; an- other position is lost; most of her moneyis stolen, and, finally, in the public ward of a hospital a baby girl is born. She calls it Zoé, to her “the most beautiful name in the world—it means ‘free.’”’ XXIV HERE were va- grant littlestreams of water, released by thaw, hurry- ing along against the curbs of Second Avenue the abso- lutely impeccable spring day that Lily Penny walked out of the Hannah Larchmont Hospital into the warm, scented bath of its sunshine, a blanketed bundle in the crook of her arm that mys- teriously seemed to animate the nap of the wool, lifting it and suggesting the little life it enfolded. She felt strangely light and giddy that life could have gone clattering on outside those dim weeks of hers between walls. She had gone down in a dark, a fantastic hiatus in her scheme of things, and it was incredible that out here were street-cars still clanging for right of way, pedestrians weaving in and out the great tapestry of a city day, factory whistles splitting asun- der with terrific cleavage the fore- from the afternoon. School-children, the air raucous with them, sped home for Fannie Hurst’s first novel —the masterpiece of this remarkable woman, who wrote ‘‘Humoresque’’ and Back Pay”’ luncheon through streets that already smelled of sun on asphalt. She had never really noticed them before. That little fat girl with the braids— tow pretty to loop them up that way behind each ear with bright-red bows! She pressed against the little warm life at her bosom. She felt throaty with laughter and the tears of a de- licious weakness that made her ache to lie down somewhere in this sun, close to the soft, bearing earth, whose secret she knew now, and open this bundle. Hers! It was the first moment of her actual ownership. Reality was re- claiming her from that un- real realm of doctors and nurses. She wanted to run with her living loot to some quiet corner and openit up. There. was a little square of park with a municipal-laid-out bed of ‘tulips across the street, but its benches were crowded with humanity, like sparrows sunning them- selves on a wire. She hurried toward Seven- teenth Street, could have run, in fact, such a resur- gence of the old vitality was upon her. Before one of the private houses, a rheumatic- looking oleander was in the supremest moment of its full bloom. It lighted up the old street as if a bride had donned her veil there. Out- side the curtain-cleaning establishment were two stretchers of lace curtains sunning themselves against the wall. Lily hurried up the stoop and rang the bell. Mrs. McMurtrie herself opened the door, as usual her great hands steaming and swollen with suds. “Well!” she said, her arm immediately flung up to the virago’s akimbo and her foot sliding in between the doors. In an agony of anxiety over possible exclusion, Lily’s words came so fast they hardly allowed for the coher- ence of spacing. , i “How do you do, Mrs. McMur- i; trie? I’ve returned, and I’m fine. I’mso sorry about that—that night and the trouble I must have caused you. Thank you for sending my bag afterme. It’sagirl. She’s the best little thing, Mrs. McMurtrie. Doesn’t cry at all. i'll only be wanting her with me for a few days until I can get her placed somewhere near me, so I can spend evenings and Sundays with her. I’ve such plans! I’m ready to take a position again and forge right ahead. If I might have the old room, Mrs. McMurtrie, I promise you that you won’t know she’s in the house these, few days. It won’t MAGAZINE COMFANT | J Ue TSS > Ag ty chee

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Fannie Hurst mean one thing in the way of extras for you, but I’m willing to pay more. Nothing except a little alcohol-stove, and if your little girl could watch her for an hour or two once in a while, I'll pay her, too. Gladly. My bag is at the hospital. I'll. send for it—— “Be saving your breath!” cried Mrs. McMuttrie, flinging her gesture upward with a cluck: of the fingers. ‘I wouldn’t give that for your yarn! You’re a hussy from the looks of the whole business, and I’ve a mind to be suing the railroad station for the sending of you to me. You mentioned the husband of your own free will. Your husband! Faith—and not so much as a “Who'll go down on a rope?’ called out the owner of the watch. will!” cried Lily. The crowd turned its face to her. “I will for a hundred and fifty dollars—now—here relation turning up to be with you in your trouble. Husband! You’d better be go- ing and telling that to the home for indi- gent girls. Your husband—bah!” To a door slammed full in her face, Lily stood there for a stunned instant, hugging at her bundle. She would like to have 43 “Nothing!” answered on the click of a closed door. With her lips almost ludicrously lifted to simulate the crescent of a smile, Lily descended. She instituted a campaign down one|side and up the other of two blocks of Nineteenth Street. Finally there came a whimper from the depths of the blanket and a light and coughy little cry against and into her heart. She stood on a corner arguing with herself for a clear brain, the easy fatigue of weakness beginning to descend, and a queer unsteadiness of limb setting in. “Don’t lose your head, Lily,” she admonished herself; ‘‘ there is a way—only, you haven’t yet struck it. Don’t let your brain NES FrACE crumpled up, to have felt the earth open and drag her down to a merciful oblivion, but, after a while, she turned and walked down those steps, fumbling with her free hand for an address she had applied for at the hospital information-desk against possible emergency. The slip of paper read “Nineteenth Street.” almost | Kirk. Pa feel trapped. Keep cool. Quiet. Dove. Peace. Cathedral. Sweet and low. Sweet and low. no—nhno in a straight line from where she stood. It was a morose, lean ith a After a while, she turned back to Second Avenue, her feet building, only two windows wide and four stories high, w porcelain sign above the bell: ROOMS A wrinkled pod of a woman opened the door. “T’m looking for a room for myself alone except, for a few IN GREAT BRITAIN days until I get my baby placed——” quickened with a destination she could not bring herself to admit. Between a home for Lithuanian aged and a Swedish bakery and lunch-room that she had more than once frequented, a black-and-gold sign spanned what at one time had been the non- committal front of a stately residence. Neugass. No. Gertrude If only Mrs. McMurtrie—indigent girls—no— lled ced Is— ind sed de- : id > ’ t (COSMOPOLITAN MAGAZINE) COPYR/GHTSD

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44 Star-Dust Non-SECTARIAN HOME FOR INDIGENT GIRLS Ascending these steps, she could feel the glance of every passer- by boring into the very back of her head, awls crawling through and through her. She tried to drag her hat down over her eyes. Her black-velvet sailor, modish enough when new, had suffered somewhat in the hurried packing-off of her things after her. The buckram rim, misshapen from too close quarters, flared rather outlandishly off her face, so that, after she had rung the bell, she stood with her back to the sidewalk while the sign above seared into her. She was admitted finally into one of the large parlors that had lost its beauty as a woman can lose hers. Stripped of the jewels of crystal chandeliers, long mirrors, and glittering floors, it remained now a gaunt strip of room, divided by a low fence and swinging gate into office and waiting-room. On a strip of bench between windows, Lily sat and waited. The movement of the room coagulated about the figure of a woman seated at a desk on the office side of the partition. Girls, to Lily it seemed a whole phantasmagoria of identical ones with short hair and eyes none too young, passed in and out of the little swinging gate. Suddenly it struck her, with such a wrench that she almost cried out, that here was no illusion. They were uniformed—these girls! In dark-blue cotton stuff, with three rows of white tape running round the skirt-hem and white bone buttons up the back. Through the doorway one of them was washing down a flight of stairs, raising a cold soap-and-lye smell; another, with a splay smile that was terrible as a wound, wiped in and out among the posts of the banisters, her face as without muscle as a squeezed orange, and smiling without knowing that it smiled. Sitting there with her bundle closer and closer to her heart, Lily closed her eyes to that smile. Above all, she knew that she needed to keep clear, and yet, across the swept horizon she tried to create, silhouettes of thought such as these would move, fantastic as cloud-shapes. “Who am I?” And then, with her old, untrained probing after reality: “‘How do I know I am not dreaming? Where am I going? What is it 1 want? How terrible! Me, Lily Becker. This place is like the poorhouse at home, that time the high- school sociology class visited it. Zée, are you real? Mine, alone. Not his. Mine! You must be the miracle and show me the way, Zoé. You shall be me, plus every thing that Iam not. To have missed the ecstasy of you is not to have lived. If Auchinloss could hear me now! Who knows? I may—yet. What if I am like Joan of Arc, heeding a vision? Only, I don’t know which way the vision is pointing. Funny! Oh, but I’m going to clear the way for you, Zoé. No Chinese shoes for your little feet or your little brain. Free—to choose—to be! That’s the way I'll rear my daughter. God—my daughter! Queer I never think of him. Her father. Zoé—what if you don’t want to be saved from what I’m saving you? The fatness—the sedentary spirit of—out there. But you areme, plus everything thatlam not. You will want to be saved. You will!” It was out of this limbo that Lily was summoned through the little swinging door to an empty chair beside the desk. She thought she had never beheld such eyes as were turned upon her through polished eye-glasses with the complement of a wide black-ribbon guard. ‘They were the color of slate and cleaned for impression. The eight cases that had preceded Lily were gone from them just as the eight cases to follow would erase one by one. “Sit down,” she said. Then, “Girl or boy?” “Girl.” “ Name? ” “Zoé. Oh, you mean my name? Let me explain. You must understand that I am not— indigent. I am looking for a room. I’ve just come out of the hospital with my little one, and you have no idea how difficult it is to find lodging where there is a child.” “What is your name?” “‘I—must beg of you not to—to take an attitude toward—— ’ “If you want me to help you. my dear, you must trust me. What is your name?” ‘“Lily—Lily Parlow, for professional reasons; but I want her christened by her full family name——” “What is your family name?” “Why, Lily—Becker—Penny.” “Your last address?” “You mean?” “Where did you sleep last night?” “T told you. Hannah Larchmont Hospital. I received my discharge to-day.” “Ts the father of your child your lawful husband?” “Indeed, yes.” “Where is he?” “Out West—where I came from.” ‘Exactly where?” “D-D-Denver, I think.” “Why are you here and he there?” “Oh, you mustn’t question me like this. I left him of my own tree will after I found I had made a mistake. I am not asking anything of you. I can pay. I want a room for me and my baby—for a few days until I get her placed. I can make certain arrangements for her and take up my work again.” “What is your work?” “T am a singer.” “Where are your friends?” “‘T have none.” “You are quite sure that this man whom you call your hus- band——” “T won’t be talked to in that tone.” “OF course, you realize that you are a highly specialized case? “Do these institutions merely function as machines? Is no provision made for the exception? Rent me a room for me and my baby. I will pay yvouin advance. See—I have five five-dollar bills in my purse. I must have a place to sleep, and I won't leave here unless you forcibly eject me. I must have my luggage; it is still at the hospital.” “How is it they did not help you there to make further provision for——” . “T didn’t explain. It seemed inconceivable that I could not ‘ind lodgings immediately.” “T see,” said Lily’s interrogator, with the air of seeing not at all. “Your case does not come under our kind of jurisdiction. Our girls are unfortunate mothers who are cared for here until such time as arrangements can be made to place the child. But no girl is entitled to our nursery and infirmary service for more than four consecutive weeks, and then, as I said, only in the event of unfortunate motherhood.” “Can only the unmarried mother be unfortunate?” “T hardly care to discuss with you the wisdom of our policies.” “But you must!” cried Lily, now thoroughly beside herself. “‘What about the girl who would rather fight out her own destiny than live through the miserable and immoral—yes, im- moral—process of a marriage that she realizes has been a mistake? Is there no provision for the woman who hasn’t a man-made grievance against society—who simply wants her one-hundred- per-cent. right to live? Women are coming to demand it more and more—that right.” “Really, I can’t see——”’ ‘“*To-day,a woman on her own with a child has only one mean- ing. I’ve been treated like a leper. Suppose, for argument, my child hadn’t had a legitimate father. All the more reason a hand should have been held out to us. But I’m not asking anything. A night’s lodging, madam, for which I can pay. Here it is in advance. I’m not going to leave.” The child was whimpering now lustily, and wanting to lift its little body from the long confinement of wrappings. There were tears and anger and a brilliant sort of challenge in Lily’s voice and in her glance that seemed to dart and glance off the starchy shirt-waist of the figure behind the desk, who sat clicking her pencil against her teeth, eyes averted as if to galvanize herself against a personality that dared to intrude itself through a “case.” She openly regarded her work, this Miss Letitia Scullen, who was one day to lay down her life valiantly enough at the altar of typhus in war-stricken Rumania, as an exact science. In- digency, like typhus, was a pandemic, which must ultimately respond to an antitoxin. It was as if her forty-seven cnarges were sick, and she reading the blood-test of indigency, pre- scribing in toto. “If you are what you say you are, then you are not entitled to the benefits of this home. You are not in need.” “But please, please, please, is there no need except that covered by vice? Can you not conceive of a plight being all the worse because there is no provision for it?” “Tt is unthinkable that a woman like you, of evident refine- ment and education, should find herself in your predicament.” “Then, thank God, for being a rebel, if it will make you ponder on what is new, untried, and not according to formula. There are only two kinds of women you social workers recognize. The sheltered ones and the unfortunates. What about the woman who is neither, but merely out on her own? I try to meet life

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us- - “But you must!” cried Lily, now thoroughly beside herself. “What about the girl who would rather fight out her own destiny than live through the miserable and immoral—yes, immoral—process of a marriage that she realizes has been a mistake? Is there no provision for the woman who hasn't a man-made grievance against society—who simply wants her one-hundred-per-cent. right to live?” as an individual and not as a woman. What happens? Doors slam in my face. I can’t buy a night’s lodging for the child in my arms, You must take me in.” “Tt’s very irregular.” “Pl pay. ” “We don’t accept paying inmates. You may make the institu- tion a present if you so desire. I'll put you up in the infirmary. It happens to be empty, and you may have the use of the nursery equipment adjoining, and there is a practical nurse in the house. Understand that this is entirely outside the regulations of the institution, and I must ask you to make different arrangements as soon as possible.” “Thank you,” said Lily, ashamed to be grateful and the tears pressing against her eyeballs. ‘‘Oh, my dear, thank you!” And so it came about that, in a room of five white cots and three barred windows, with the aid of a practical nurse and a tiny gas-stove on a tin mat, Lily prepared her daughter for the night. In her bag, lugged over from the hospital by one of the uni- formed girls, was the little layout, parting gift of the institution, including a machine-stitched flannelette night-dress that Lily tee have wept over as she fastened its thick button at the roat. Still, with the chapped-faced nurse moving about the bare, ugly room on her everlasting mission of efficiency, diluting the formula to just the proportions required, rubbing the little bud of a body with coarse corn-starch, the sense of ownership did not descend upon Lily. She wanted to feel this new estate of hers. In all the three and a half weeks there had never been a moment of privacy to give reality to this pink and blue and yellow bloom that had somehow flowered from the tree of her being. She wanted the quiet to reconcile this new, this terrible, this throat-throbbing sweetness with the Medean fury which had flung her, a shuddering, choking mass, upon that rooming-house floor. She wanted to feel again and again the quick, estatic brash that could race in a wave over her when she held this warm rose of life to her breast. At nine o’clock, the lights went out just as Lily had slid into her own nightgown. She tiptoed to the door, barefooted, locking it, and thereby violating a rule of the institution. She was suddenly full of fear there, in the darkness and the aloneness, and ran over to the cot for the miracle of that soft body to her flesh. She lifted it from the nest of coarse pillow, even in sleep the tendril of a little finger closing about hers. There were crisscross shadows on the floor cast there by the iron bars at the windows. Her child lay asleep in an institutional garb of charity. The father of that child, ignorant of its very existence, was at that moment and at a distance of one thousand 3 = wn a |

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46 Star-Dust miles, adjusting a new rubber stopper to the bathtub in the hone he shared with his parents-in-law. Outside the Home for Indigent Girls, a city that took absolutely no reckoning of Lily’s or hers wove its pattern toward another to-morrow. She was alone with the first realization of her child, in a moment that might have shaped itself to crush her. She sat down on the bed, leaning over until her body formed a sort of cave about the child. She had a sense of the power to strangle both their lives out there in that strange darkness. An old fear leaned out at her: ““AmI crazy?” Moreand more the sense of wanting to strangle flowed over her. Here—to-night—now! A cry leaped up under her pressure, startled, and with a stab of pain in it. She swooped the little squirming burden up under her chin; she buried her head into the warm froth of curls, the light wind of her laughter suddenly sweeping the room. “Mother’s darling! Twiddle-de-darling! Moonlit flake! Beautifulest! Zoéist flower in the world! Mine! Alone mine! Odle-de-dums. To-morrow! To-morrow!” There followed for Lily a week of scars, each exactly as deep as the day was long. First, the heart-breaking business of giving over her child to the chapped-faced nurse, and a rear room of nursery hung in the odors of formaldehyde and lined up into a ward of white-iron cribs, each screened in with a clothes-horse of little flannel gar- ments of a thickness that wrung Lily’s heart. There were now two additional occupants, a poor top-heavy infant with a fourteen-year-old mother, father unknown, and the teething baby of one of the blue-uniformed inmates whose routine allowed her periods of the day to nursle her child. That was the wrench that began each day. To abandon the pink- and-white bloom that slept all night without a crying-spell in the cove of her arm to the grayness of a nursery that should have been pink and white and sweetly fragrant with powders and puffs and the rosy kind of tufted coverlets with scent be- tween them that her mother had once sewn over with bow-knots for the Kemble baby. She was guilty of extravagance that ate menacingly into the four vemaining five-dollar bills. Against the protests of the practical nurse, , she promptly discarded the long ZA muslin swaddling dress, whose super- . fluous length wound round the little fg feet, purchasing three short and sheer ones, also a doll-size toilet-set painted in little clumps of forget-me-nots. The hair-brush had a thick, soft nap which would spin out her child’s curls into a cloud of gold. They really were the color, these curls. of a jar of strained honey seen through sunlight. It was as if she could never tire of feeling them wind to her finger. The nurse she kept pla- cated with tips in outlandish proportion to her funds, and often to a memory of that dip of lip, curving terrifyingly across her conscious- ness, would scurry homeward to this gray-and-black abode of theirs which only contained them on a tolerance that day after day seared deeply into her being. Slowly but surely, her none too im- maculately shod feet ceased their pil- grimage to the agencies. She did apply, one sultry morning, in answer to an ad- SMES A youth with a cap pulled down and a sweater pulled up sauntered out of a pool-room, matching his pace with hers and at once easily colloquial vertisement for a “refined indoor entertainer, city work,” only to find for the usual fee exhortation thinly backed by promises, For the most part, she marked off at her breakfast-table in the adjoining Swedis; lunch-room, under the newspaper heading; “Help Wanted, Female,” the demands for stenographers, com. panions, hat-models, and, on one occasion, for a cashier’s vacancy in a Madison Avenue florist’s. A persistent streak of circumstances seemed to prohibit her success. Upon three occasions, it happened that she waited all morning in a line only to see the applicant directly in front of her chosen for the position. At the florist shop, bond was required. A lawyer asked her to type a specimen letter for him, and laid heavy lips on the curl at the nape of her neck as she bent to his dictation. During these days that were lifting, now, each its frankly lashing tail of terror, there were smiles a]l along the way for Lily—old faces smiling at and young faces with her, often to the assuagement of the tightening knot of terror at her heart. With her trick of mind that could close itself against any concern beyond her immediate future, her one burning desire was for a competency, to be earned preferably at stenography, since that would leave her evenings free, which would tide her over these first weeks of difficult readjustment—to find and afford for this amazing liability of hers the kind of temporary asylum that would set her free for the scheming-out of her new cosmos. She found out, at the instance of the practical nurse, a sort of semiprivate institution on Colum- bus Avenue, but a trip through the wards and nurseries sickened her. There was a score o* little blue-gingham dresses, dingy fabrics that seemed to darken childhood, flapping on a rear clothes- line, and one two-year-old child lay asleep on a step, his little white frock with black anchors printed into it furiously smeared, and one hand clutch- ing a sticky gingersnap. She IL-~ did not even inquire further MA but got out quickly, trembling. a The proprietor of the Swed- ish bakery gave her an ad- dress of a Mrs. Landman, a practical nurse who might con- sent to board the infant of an employed parent So, on the t\ very day of the lawyer’s \ encounter, there was an- \ other sickening journey to what proved to bea ms tenement in West Fifty- ‘third Street. There was ‘a sign in the window: MapamMe LANDMAN MIpwWIFE She did not linger to ring the bell. That night, she lay awake the night through. Another bed in the infirmary was occupied. One of the girls had spilled scalding tea along her arm, and to her groanings: Lily lay staring into the darkness, her child , so in the cove of her arm that its slight breathing fanned her flesh It was one of those long, calculating nights full of alternatives no sooner con- trived than rejected. Only one state of surety came crystalline out of it—there was 7 no going back. kiF Twice she rose and, with much of her old revulsion curiously gone, greased the scalded arm by the puny aid of a night-1ight that flowed in from the hall when the door was opened. At five o’clock, her child began - j Ay, 4

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cashier’s ibit her all it of her quired, nd laid t to his ach its ng the th her, rror at st an desiill raphy, d tide id and porary new actical ‘olum- Is and little eemed othes- (On a ichors ously lutch- She irther bling. wed- ad- in, a -con- of an 1 the yer’s S an- rey bea ifty- was “Yes, yes; I'm going to give you a position, too. a lusty pean to the dawn. She heated the milk and held the warm bottle tilted until it was emptied with the strong, deep drafts that delighted her. There was distinctly more gold out day by day in the ringlets, and the eyes were turning gray and could fill blackly with pupil. After that, Lily sat in her night-dress beside the window, her eagerness for the day allayed to an extent by her rising sense of panic. She tried to lay her despair. Unthinkable that this new day, dawning so pinkly over chimney-pots, would not prove itself a friend in her great need. By eight-thirty, at the instance of a newspaper advertisement, she was the first applicant at the Acme Publishing Company, East Twenty-third Street. She obtained, this time, from a woman who accepted her lack of references rather negligibly. She, too, asked her to compose a specimen letter acknowledg- ing receipt of a translator’s manuscript. She accomplished it with a glibness that brought a flush to her cheek and a smile to the face of her employer. Lily thought she had never beheld such spick-and-span effi- ciency as this woman’s. The smooth white hair arranged with a conservative eye to the prevailing mode. The clean, untired skin and rather large, able hands. She made mental note of the crisp organdy collar and cuffs, and was suddenly conscious that her shoes were too short of vamp and her heels run down because they were too high. A revulsion of taste flowed over Lily; she hated suddenly the rather tawdry cape piped in red, and mentally retailored herself with a new feeling for simplicity. Her sinkage of heart at the proffered eight dollars a week was followed by a quick resurgence of vitality at the prospect of the advancement held out. Her predecessor was being promoted to first reader! The Acme Publishing Company printed paper-backed editions of translations from the more highly paprika-flavored of current French novels. The instinct to write rose in Lily, the quick flame of her faddism easily aroused. Here was nothing more than a stroke of fate. A long-laid plan for a novel lifted, an entire panorama of resolutions dramatizing themselves. Fifteen a week to start with, to show you I mean well by you—you beautiful, sleepy-eyed thing!” The easy hours from nine to four. Long evenings at work beside the crib. A nom de plume, of course, Ann some- thing. Ann Netherland. But eight dollars! Her heart tight- ened. She had obtained, the day previous, at a Lexington Avenue children’s hospital she chanced to pass, the address of an institu- tion at Spuyten Duyvil said to be conducted for the children of professional parents, and run by Minnie Dumas, an old stock actress remembered by the generation preceding Lily’s for the heavier Shakespearian roles. Her mind leaped to this. Yes; she would return at two o’clock ready to begin work, and went out into a day warm with sunshine. A quick resolve formed itself. She inquired at some length in a corner drug store, finally taking a train for Spuyten Duyvil, and, twenty minutes later, descended at a little station upon the edge of a park that was brilliant with new green. More inquiry, the disdaining of a cab, and a twenty-minute walk along curving asphalt walks with houses far enough back to lose their identities among trees. A sense of summer and hope swept her. The Dumas place was an old homestead of painted gray brick and ugly with the mill-work and gable-bulging ell and tower of American architecture in most horrific mood, but a smooth green lawn fell plushily away from it on four sides, and it was all Lily could do to keep from running up the walk. Her child in the sweet air of this fine old spot! Out of her eight dollars a week she could manage four, even five if need be! Her embarrassment was only: temporary. Any arrears incurred she could make up later, if only it could be arranged There were long, cool halls, a sun-flooded kindergarten, an open-air playroom on the roof, and a white-enameled nursery with a row of ducklings waddling across thé walls, and Mrs. Dumas herself, who stopped at each stair-landing for ready and copious explanation. She was very corseted, very mannered, and quick to atti- tudinize. A flight of framed photographs of her followed the staircase upward step by step in which she registered, ata vig 1 wy € \ \ 4 tw, ing ake her vas irls tea ner ng ild rm ng of n- ly iS ‘h t e

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48 Star-Dust considerably younger period, such staple states as anger, medi- tation, humiliation, vengeance, love. She was still a commanding figure, with copper-colored hair that for ten years had wanted to turn gray, a face of furiously combated wrinkles, and eyes deep with black or blackened lashes. She was the declamatory kind of Lady Macbeth who had stepped into the rdle flatly on a number-seven last, rather than from a Juliet who had fattened into the part—that congenial stateliness now thrown completely out of plumb by a violent limp, which, resulting from a railway accident, threw out her entire left leg as she walked. All the velvet was unconsciously out in Lily’s voice, coping with the Dumas extravagance of manner. “Do you accept them as young as four weeks, Mrs. Dumas?” “Bless you dearie, the three-weeks’ ducky darling of Cissy De Veaux is our youngest at present. “The comic-opera Cissy De Veaux?” “Why, honey child, Cissy tells it on herself she never would have had those ducky twins of hers five years ago if she hadn’t known there was a Minne Dumas Infantary. That is our aim, here, you know. To give the child of superior professional parents the most superior environment that money can buy.” “How much?” “Yes, indeedy, dearie; that’s a book of testimonials there on that table from my children’s parents. I take it you’re a professional, dearie?”’ “Oh, yes—yes. Concert and—vaudeville.” “You voice, dearie?”’ “Ves.” “I’m a retired member of the profession myself. A little before your time, bless you, but ask anyone who knew me in the Manhattan Stock Company if they remember Minnie Dumas in ‘The Silver Lute.’ Donald Deland, as fine a Macbeth as ever strode the boards! That’s his picture there as Iago. I’ll show you his little grandchild up in the nursery. ‘Min,’ he used to say, ‘if you’ll throw over Edward Dumas, I’ll give you a year’s voice-training at the Academy and put you up against Melba.’ Ah, my dear, I hope yours is a happy one.” “How much——” “T threw away a career for the caprice of a man who cast me off like an old glove. Be careful, dearie. Here in the infantary we never ask questions of parents, believing it the right of every- one to work it out her own way; but look twice before you leap in this life, dearie. I could tell you tales!” : “Ok, Mrs. Dumas, what a sunny, lovely nursery! How happy I would be if my little girl could come to you here!” “‘My people want the best, dearie, andI give it tothem. I’ve put the last ten years of my life, since the accident, dearie, to making this home the one the profession can be proud of. My nurses and doctors are the best. We only accept them from two weeks of age to five years, but look over that album of testimonials “Oh, this bright, lovely nursery is sufficient. I hope, Mrs. Dumas, it isn’t going to be too expensive.” “Our service divides itself into three classifications, Mrs.—— “Penny.” “Not Alonzo Penny, of the old Trenton Stock?” “ No—you were saying, Mrs. Dumas—three classifications——”” “Yes; I'll give you a booklet, dearie. The rates vary accord- ing to age. Upto one, then one to three, and three to five. We’ve our own cows, sterilizing machines——” “How much did you say, Mrs. Dumas, up to one year?” “Six hundred dollars a year, in quarterly advance-payments.” They were down again in the wide, cool hallway, little kinder- garten-voices of children shrilling through from one of the play- rooms. A white nurse passed them, tilting a white perambu- lator dowr a flight of white stone stairs. “Six hundred dollars a year. That—that would make one hundred and fifty dollars—in advance?” said Lily, trying to keep the muscles of her face from quivering. “Right, dearie.” “T—why—I’m afraid——” “No hurry, dearie. Think it over. It just happens we have a bed or the infant-floor right now; so ’d make up my mind right quickly if I were you. Think it over. You know best.” Out on the sun-swept lawn, the white perambulator and the white nurse just ahead, Lily broke into a run. Tears were beat- ing up against her throat,and there was a knot of sobs behind her breathing. She wanted to throw herself on the warm slope of terrace and kick into it. After a while, she dropped down on a little grassy knoll just off the curving sidewalk and leaned her head against a tree, ” large tears, since there was no one to see them, rolling unheeded down her cheeks toward an inverted crescent of bitterly disap pointed mouth. The sun at her back must have acted as a sedative, becauseg after a while of crying there tiredly, she started up out of a light ei doze, all her perceptions startled, and began immediately to rum back toward the station. Within view of it, she met a pedesm™ trian, inquiring of him the time. Ten minutes to two This set her to running again, so that she fairly flopped with little collapse on a station bench. A train was just pulling ou There was another at two-twenty. 4 It was ten minutes past three when she burst into the outer offices of the Acme Publishing Company, her lips trembling# with a prepared apology she had hardly the breath for. Anim office-boy brought her out an immediate message. Her placem™ had been filled at five minutes past three. 4 All the way down Second Avenue, she was inclined somehowal to laugh. She found herself, finally, in the Swedish bakery anda lunch-room, ordering, without appetite but a growing sense of need of food, a dish of rice pudding and a cup of coffee: She broke into the only remaining bill in her pocket, leaving a fives cent tip beside her saucer and pouring, with quite ,a little jang- ling, one dollar and eighty-five cents back into her purse. j In the hallway of the home, she encountered Miss Scullen, hurrying with a sheaf of papers in her hand. “Oh, yes, Lily; I want to speak to you.” Yes?” “Have you made different arrangements? You know it is highly irregular, your remaining on.” “T am expecting to take a position and get baby placed any day now. I’ve just returned from Spuyten Duyvil, where I have something very good in view. If you could see your way clear to let things run on a few days longer, Miss Scullen?” “Not beyond next Tuesday evening. It is very irregular, and I’ve a Board of Directors’ meeting Wednesday.” “Yes, Miss Scullen—not beyond Tuesday evening.” 4 When Lily entered the infirmary, the smell of iodine smote % her queerly and with an unnamable terror. Her child lay sleep- ing on a pillow hedged in with a chair, and, bending over, the aroma struck her squarely and with a close pungency. There was a great yellow stain on the little forehead, a welt rising and purpling through it. Even the honey-colored curls were stained with a great blotch of the vicious greeny yellow, one little eyelid swelling. With a cry somewhere from the primordial depths of her, Lily snatched up the pillow, rushing with it and its burden to the door, kicking it open in a gale of terror, her voice tearing down the hallway. “Help—for God’s sake—quick—help!”’ The nurse came rushing with a stack of sheets in her arms, and in an instant the corridor was a runway of blue-clad girls, ready, even eager for stampede, and finally Miss Scullen herself pushing through. “My baby! What has happened to her? Quick—my child!” With immediate realization of the situation, the nurse pushed her red-elbowed way through the tightening congestion, her voice strident above the dreaded hum of panic. “Get back to your room! It is nothing. The child fell off the bed and bumped its head. Get back, every one of you! I painted the bruise with iodine. It’s nothing but a bumped head. Back, I say!” There was a blur before Lily’s eyes that waved like a red flag, and her voice shot up to a shriek. “You’ve hurt her terribly! You devil! Pig! How dared you! You’ve pinched her, too. I know now what those little blue marks are from. Her head! Her little eye! I could kill you. Devil! Pig! You let her fall. I could kill you!” Through the snarl of the corridor, Miss Scullen emerged, her lips very thin and her voice a steady sedative to the rising mur- mur. “You get your things and get out! Leave the child, if you @ want, until you find a place, but you get your things. You thankless, ungrateful girl! You were taken in here on sufferance and against my better judgment. This is the reward which comes from placing myself liable to censure from my Board of Directors. Girls, go back to your rooms at once, and forget “7am this wayward girl’s disgraceful scene. Now you go!” “Indeed I’ll go! But leave my baby here? Not likely! Why, what’s one baby’s brain more or less to you? One case, more or less, for your filing-cabinet, that’s all. If I were one of these poor girls and found myself stuck in one of (Continued on page 154) }

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LARA MOORES, ome of this year’s new stage beauties, plays the heroine of the quaint Cape Cod comedy, “Shavings.” PROTOORSPES BY EDWARD THAYER MONROE \ eded isaps light -dess tha ) out# uter lings / iit i An} lace Hil how and) e of i She ing- | any re vay @ | lar, the ice @ Re ag, kill ; Bi her ou nce re ese 54)

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eroines-of- Follies. h in the Salome “The Girls of 1920,” the brilliant ’Clock Revue’’ at New Y ork’s Dansede TTY MORTON enacts ine o opera feature of new “ >

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RLINE CHASE sings and dances her way very charmingly through a diverting new musical comedy called ““The Night Boat.” PMOTOGRAPH® BY CAMPEBLL STULIUS or , | i

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one of to stand the test of time has several the revival of “ Florodora, comedies “the part of Diana m ? in RIXIE STEGMAN musi T the few special features ¥

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A story of two lovers who found the straight road to happiness after wandering through a dark thicket of false- hood and delusion “One for Illustrated by . IBFRTY!” shouted Michael Andreivitch. ‘Why call that preposterous candle-snuffer ‘Liberty’? Liberty en- lightening the world! She is a great hell-cat—that is what she is! It is by the light of her torch that the capitalist hunts down his slaves. Liberty!” A fit of sneezing interrupted the orator, and he began to blow his nose violently into a dirty red handkerchief. Trina Bern- stein, a stout, spectacled woman in a rich fur doat, laughed and, with the flat of her hand, struck him a number of,times between the shoulders. _ “Look the other way, then,” she said, ‘“‘or you will make your- self sick. Look the other way,” she repeated; ‘‘look toward Free Russia!” A young man with an ascetic face who went by the name of Boris touched Trina Bernstein on the arm and said, “Tt is as if we Fad been dwelling in hell, all our company, and were on our way to paradise.” It was rather wonderful that Boris should have hit on such a comparison, for he did not believe in God. His eyes turned in the direction of Free Russia, or in that direc- tion in which all those who had overheard Trina Bernstein’s ex- hortation imagined it to be, and closed with a certain weariness, and when he opened them, it was to gaze passively at the wintry shores of Staten Island. He pursed his lips and then, abruptly turning aft, took his last look at the Statue of Liberty. The goddess was now no more than a shadow in the morning mist. She vanished, and the bows of the Moravia lifted with a delicate shiver to a long, oily swell that had rolled through the Narrows from the ocean. The young man buttoned his threadbare coat tightly about his neck, leaned his elbows on the rail, and looked down into tke ed- dies that swirled along the steamer’s sides. He had expected to be in a state of exaltation; but there had been too much standing-about for that. The company had been up for hours and hours, and all the time standing, all the time in a state of anger and irritation. The damp had oozed through the soles of their shoes. Sneezing-fits, coughing-fits, running noses, Boris watched her. He made no pretense at doing anything else. The thought of death sickened him By Gouverneur Morris M. L. Bower angry words and faces prevailed among those who were being deported. To hell with authority of all kinds! To hell with all officials in and out of uniform! ' He snuffled. Having passed through the Narrows at half-speed, there was a sound of bells ringing, and the Moravia, vibrating throughout her length, began to move more swiftly. Her bows rose very slowly and fell with a disquieting suddenness. Most of the men and the five women who were being deported had sought warmth and shelter from the wind in the smoking- saloon of the old liner. Boris joined them. As he shuddered into the green-and-gilded room, he recalled the remark he had made to Trina Bernstein. On their way from hell to paradise—that was just the very way they were on. Only, he had been liberal. By. ‘‘ paradise” he had not signified “‘free,” or the real paradise in which he did not be- lieve. Living—living at all—that was hell, and heaven was oblivion. About the table at which Trina Bernstein was sitting, the felt hats and dark overcoats were thickest. “Ves,” she repeated; ‘‘those are the very words I used. ‘Tell your government,’ I said, ‘that by the act of deporting us it Fas signed its own death-warrant.’”’ ‘*And then, let me tell you,” said Michael Andreivitch, “you spoke true words—terrible words—for them. In Soviet Russia, there is health, audacity, enterprise, genius. The rest of Europe is sick. What we do not sovietize, we shall sweep into the sea asa waiter sweeps bread-crumbs from a table. Then let Washington tremble.” “T didn’t mince my words, I can tell you,” orated the Bern- stein woman. ‘Huh! Deport me, indeed! I shall reenter the United States again via Mexico or Canada within the next six months.” She snorted contemptuously. “The old fool!” thought Boris. from his post just inside the door. ‘‘As if words could frighten even the American govern- ment! Words! We’ve given them words for years: And even now that they have begun to deport us, it isn’t from fear; it’s from irritation. Talk has been our big trouble in America. Lack at q he 4 4 ne |

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54 Russia. There we haveacted: But J shall act. And after I have acted, they will not dare de- port any more of us. Words! Hunger-strikes! Such things impress no one.” He became lost in reverie. A hand touched his elbow, and a low, pleasant female voice said: “Are you Boris Odeschalki? I am Anna Palanova. I was told to keep an eye out for you, and to give you a message ” “IT am pleased to know you, Anna Palanova. I have been wondering what sort of face there was behind that green veil. If I had known, I would have asked you to take it off long before this. Shall we goand sit in that corner over there? And you can tell me the message.” “Tt is from a man with only one eye,” said Anna Palanova. “It was when I was being taken on the ferry to Ellis Island. He pushed close up and whispered, ‘Tell Boris Odeschalki from me that we are all for one and one for all.’ Boris repeated the words and _ nodded. Then, with a sudden smile that was not with- out a certain brilliance and charm, he looked into her blue eyes and touched her hand with the tips of his fingers. ** Ail,”” he explained, “means all the men on the ship. ‘One’—that means you. ‘All for one!’”’ Anna Palanova’s color brightened. “And what does ‘one for all’ mean?” she asked. “It means that, if the voyage lasts long enough, the men will all come to blows.” Her eyelids, with their heavy black lashes, drooped. “Anna Palanova,” said Boris, “I have never been much interested in young women till this moment. What have you done to frighten Uncle Sam?” But he did not listen to her answer, and, when she had finished, he lifted his hand and touched her cheek. : “You have the most beautiful skin I ever saw,” he said. In her embarrassment, Anna Palanova nodded. ‘But what are you blush- ing for? Don’t you believe in free love, and that the children belong to the state? -There’s nothing to blush about.” Anna Palanova knew that there was indeed nothing to blush about. For she had been taught that freedom to love and to be Joved by whom one pleased was beautiful!and desirable and natural. Nevertheless, she blushed and kept on blushing. “For instance,” said Boris, “you and I love each other. Then, either I take you home with me or you take me home with you. After a time, you go out one morning, and either you don’t come back or you come back with another man. Isimply pack upand move out. By that time, 1 have some one else in mind. Be sure of that—just as you had.’”’ He laughed harshly. “1 think,” said Anna Palanova. “that, when you state it like that, it is horrible and ugly.” “That,” said Boris, “is only because we don’t happen to love each other. In our case, I am the only one that loves.” “Please don’t make fun of me,” said the girl. ‘‘ Love—real love—is beautiful.” “You are beautiful,” said Boris, “and I love you. Couldn’t you learn to Jove me, Anna Palanova?” 4 “I don’t believe in marriage,” said she, “but I know very well that if I ever do Jove a man, I shall want to keep him for myself always. I know myself. And I would be like that.” “When I said that some fine morning you would go out and either stay out or come back with another man, I was only joking. Do you think I would ever let you go out by yourself, Anna Palanova? Free love! That is only a theory, only a slo- gan. As many pairs of free lovers will cleave to each other till death as married pairs cleave in America. I’ve never loved any- one but you. And I shall never love anybody else.” Anna Palanova, who had recovered her equanimity and natu- ralness, laughed. The impact of the first bullet hurled him a dozen feet; by pure “Well, Boris Od eschalki,” she said, “I promisé that if ever I love you, it will be in the same way.” The sea was not very rough; but the steamer was small and the green-and-gold smoking saloon, being far aft, tossed un- pleasantly, and those of the passengers who had not already hurried off to their cabins were silent, white, and miserable. “Will you try to love me, Anna Palanova? Trying might help, and life is short.” “T’ll think it over,” she said. “«Think!’” he exclaimed. ‘And suppose, while you are thinking, the ship should open and let in the sea?” “Then I suppose I’d have to stop thinking.” The young man wondered if he could trust her. After a moment’s thought, since it is horribiz to die unappreciated, he thought that he could. “Listen,” he said: ‘‘ The message you gave me is an order from the soviet. It has been decreed that lovers of the Revolution shall not be deported, because their work is in America. It has been decreed that, rather than suffer ourselves to be deported, ke 4 ¢

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accident, the second hit him in the throat and quieted him. Anna tore open the station dodr and dashed off into the night we must choose martyrdom. When it is seen that, rather than submit to deportation, we are willing to die, public opinion in the United States will be on our side, and there will be no more de- portations. Can you keep a secret, Anna Palanova?”’ The girl nodded, and, having gazed for a long time into her candid eyes, he believed her. “Those fools over there’—he pointed a thumb toward the Bernstein woman and her diminished circle—“are planning what they will do when they land in free Russia. But, unless they are washed ashore, they will never land.” “What do you mean, Boris Odeschalki?” “My overcoat, you notice, is bound with black braid. Hidden by the braid is fifty feet of insulated copper wire.” He laughed and went on: “My cabin is in the lowermost tier. When the ship rolls even a little way, the port-hole dips under water. But a port-hole is a small matter. Perhaps you don’t know that I was under the doctor’s care all the time I was at Ellis Island. He is one of us. He is what the cursed Americans call a ‘parlor Bol- shevist.’. But he is no such thing. He is no shriveling theorist, but a man of action who will stop at nothing. As a matter of fact, I am not sick in any way. It is only the drugs which the doctor administered from time to time which have made me seem so. All that I have been able to bring on board is by hisaid. It was murder, he told the authorities, to send me to sea in winter without a warm overcoat. He asked leave to give me an old one of his own. This is it. It is bound with copper wire, and it is interlined with flat strips of high explosive—stuff that resembles a stick of chewing-gum. After dinner, you will see me swallow, by the doctor’s orders, a charcoal tablet—only, it is not pure charcoal. It has mixed with it saltpeter and sulphur in the cor- rect porportions. It is, in short, what is known as black powder. It is not easy to ignite the higher explosives; but black powder goes at the lightest touch of fire—the red-hot end of a match, a spark of electricity running from the end of one copper wire to the end of another, or passing through a hairlike wire and turning it incandescent. Of the charcoal tablets (poor dyspeptic that I am), I have a large supply ——” ° The girl interrupted him with a shiver of excitement. = | * i

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56 for All” “How will you get your current?’’ she asked. “The top of my walking-stick unscrews,” he said, “and in the hollow underneath are four cylindrical dry cells—not much thick- er than lead-pencils.”’ “And of what will you make the bomb?” “Have you not noticed that in each cabin there is a pair of heavy-glass, big-bellied bottles for drinking-water—one for each one of the occupants? When I have charged them and made my electrical connections, I shall place them under the couch against the side of the ship, with the mattress from the couch doubled and wedged under to hold them in place. At half-past eleven, I shall undress, swallow two quarter-grain tablets of mor- phia, lie down on the lower berth with a wire in each hand, and presently, after I have thought a little about this thing and that, I shall fold my hands upon my breast—the ends of the wire will touch—and after that, Anna Palanova, I do not know. I think that I shall never know.” “You have trusted me with a terrible and a beautiful secret, Boris Odeschalki!”’ “Tt is because I love you. And I wish you were not on this ship, Anna Palanova. I do not mind about anyone else in the world. But I do not wish to think of vou as dead.” “Tt is nothing,” she said, “death!” : “That is just the trouble with it. nothing—just nothing!” “Listen,” said the girl: “You don’t know how I admire your courage; and I myself am not afraid to die. But I am a woman, and I know that to-night I shall be horribly nervous and fright- ened. Have you any more of the morphine, Boris Odeschalki?” “In my suitcase,” he said, “is a bottle labeled: ‘Rhubarb-and- Soda Tablets’ — stained to make the deception perfect. It is a wonderful thing to be a dyspeptic. I have, for instance, a bottle of fruit-salts,” He bent closer to her and whispered, ‘‘ Cyanide.” “What is that for?” “Sometimes the most important thing for a man to do is to die as quietly as possible. Listen, Anna: How about dying together, and living a little before we die?” Anna Palanova sat with downcast eyes, thinking. “Two hundred and seven is the number of my cabin,” said Boris; “it is on the left-hand side of the ship. You will come?” She shook her head. “No, Boris. A-girl is hard for a man to understand. I know there are girls who preach free love, and practise what they preach; but in most girls—I suppose it is an inherited instinct, wrong I know, and stupid and illogical—there is in most girls the illusion that love is not merely a natural need and its natural gratification but a union of two spirits from which union other spirits are born into the world. A girl believes that, when she gives herself to a man, she is receiving protection from all that is evil, a roof to shelter her, food to nourish her, and chil- dren who wil] make her old age sweet and contented. ’Tis all silly romance, of course, Boris Odeschalki; but I wonder if many a man, even of the most advanced philosophy, does not feel the instinct to make that which he receives his own for all time and to the exclusion of all other men, to keep to himself his choice of a moment for the ages of ages. The thought of death is not hor- rible tome. I shall have died for Free Russia. But if I thought, Boris Odeschalki, that my own child, unborn, without power to choose, was going out into the dark with me, I should fight against dea th, even if the salvation of the whole world depended on my dying.” “You are talking what amounts to treason, Anna Palanova.” “What does that matter, if we are all to die to-night?” The young man rose and, staggering a little, for he was un- accustomed to the motion of ships, held out his hand. ‘] shall not see you again til] dinner,” he said; “I must get my preparations under way. You will not be out of my mind, I love you. And it is a tragedy that you do not love me in the same way. Death in your arms would be the sweetest thing imaginable.” She called bim back. “Don’t forget you promised me some of the morphine. Wait- ing for the thing to happen won’t be easy. I’d rather be asleep.” “I won’t forget,” he said. If it were cruelty now, but Few of the deported had felt like dinner. For Boris to secure a place next to Anna at the long table had been easy. Both were good sailors. So, unfortunately, was Trina Bernstein, who sat across the tablefrom them. She monopolized the conversation. Knowing what they knew, her talk seemed ridiculous. It was all of the state and grandeur in which she intended to live when the Bolshevist movement had triumphed all over the world. During one of her tirades, Boris sought for Anna’s hand under the table and pressed a little packet into it, with the whispered explanation for insomnia. Then Boris proceeded to tease Trina Bernstein and excite her anger and suspicion. “Suppose,” he said, “that the American newspapers are the ones who are telling the truth about Free Russia and not theenvoys of Lenine and Trotsky. It will be an unpleasant surprise if we find that there is nothing to eat, no clothes to be had, and among the true believers more pronounced classes than have ever been known till this time. At all events, the step backward before the step forward has been longer than anyone expected.” “Mine has been no step backward!” exclaimed Trina Bern- stein. ‘‘Only a gigantic stride forward and upward.” “Tt does seem,” put in Anna, ‘‘as if somebody would have to do some work. It is just and right that all the profits should go to the workers. But if the workers do not work, I do not see where the profits are to come from. You cannot forever sell things that you haven’t.got to people who have no money with which to pay for them.” Trina smiled good-naturedly. “You are simple, Anna Palanova. We have the capital of the whole world to draw on.” “The savings,” said Boris, ‘‘of all those who have labored during the last twenty or thirty million years. It might last us a year. And then what? The money in your purse, Trina Bern- stein, is simply so much canned labor. Oh, I am for the soviet, right enough; but I do not think that the new world is going to be perfect. The intellectuals and the bourgeoisie and the capi- talists—these will go. In Free Russia, they have gone. But is not life, for instance, pleasanter and more comfortable for Lenine and Trotsky than for a couple of frost-bitten Red guards out in the field?” Under the Bernstein’s beady, bright, and malicious eyes, the young people were not able to talk confidentially; but the sea, continually roughening, disturbed even her stout stomach and caused her to leave the table before the meal had ended. Boris nudged Anna. “Tt seems that we are not all equal,’’ he said, *‘for some of us are sick at sea and others aren’t. There are men on this ship who are so sick that drowning will come as a great relief to them. Now vou are wonderful, Anna Palanova! Knowing that you must die to-night, you smile and laugh naturally, eat heartily, and I dare say you have been writing letters to some of your friends in America.” , ‘‘No. But I am going to.” “But why give yourself the trouble, since the letter will never reach them? And, besides, I want to spend my last afternoon talking with you and looking at you.” “You may look at me all you like. I shall do my writing in the smoking-room, if you don’t interrupt me. Some of the people I promised to write to are children. I have never broken my word to a child.” “Vou are fond of children, Anna?” love them.” “You shouldn’t have brought me that message, then, telling me to blow up this ship.” During the whole afternoon, until a steward came into the smoking-room with cups of hot tea, Anna Palanova wrote letters. Boris sat in a corner and watched her. He made no pretense at doing anything else. The thought of death sickened him. They had agreed to have their tea together, and Anna, gathering her papers together, crossed the saloon and scrambled into the seat next to Boris, The steward put a thick cup of smoking tea before each of them. The liquid slopped over into the saucers. Anna rose with exclamation of dismay. “Oh, I’ve left one of my letters!” ‘Stay where you are, Anna; I’ll get it for you.” The moment his back was turned, she opened her hand above his cup and dropped into it all the morphine tablets that he had given her. She did not intend to die if she could help herself. “Very likely,” she thought, “he will fall asleep right here. Then I shall get the key of his stateroom away from him, and his char- coal tablets, and then I shal! take the batteries out of his walking- stick and throw them into the sea. Color flooded her cheeks. Her eyes shone. She seemed won- derful to Boris—a goddess, flaming with beauty. “By God,” he exclaimed, “‘your face looks as if it had been carved out of a rose!” He started to sit down, Jost his balance partially, and in the effort to recover it, knocked his cup of tea off the table.

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“Hait! ‘Who goes there?" The command stopped them as abruptly as if they had walked into a brick wall. “Two lovers,” said Boris, clearly and distinctly, ‘who lost their way in a forest of lies “Another cup, if you please,” he called to the steward; “I have spilled mine— What is the matter, Anna Palanova? You look as if you had seen a ghost.” The girl shuddered, “Tf a teacup can make a crash like that—” she said. She lifted her own cup with a hand that trembled and drank from it. Then she said, ‘‘Boris, swear to me that you are not going to do it before midnight.” “1 swear it; but, darling child, when you have swallowed half a grain of the morphine, you will feel collected and serene.” “How much does it take to kill a man?” she asked. “A grain and a half, two grains, three grains; it depends on the man.” Ske watched his “T might have killed him!” thought Anna. He was so profile, and a certain tenderness crept into her heart. calm and so boyish-looking. A soft knocking sounded on the door of stateroom two hundred and seven. Boris reached for the electric-light switch and broke the current. Then he said, ‘“‘Who is it?” in a quiet voice. “ Anna.” He had the door open in a jiffy, and, catching her by the arm, hurried her into the cabin. “You did come! Oh, my darling!” He had clasped her tightly to his breast and was covering her (Continued on page r10) face with kisses. | q tee y 4 i

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Kindred the Dust Illustrated by Dean Cornwell The Triangle HE Op Larrp—Hector McKaye, millionaire lumber king, a fine old gentleman who has centered the great hopes of a mighty life in his son, to whose broad shoulders he has shifted the vast McKaye enterprises. He bitterly opposes his son’s wish to marry Nan, and when the young man does so, casts him off and resumes the management of his affairs. Tue Younc Larrp—Donald McKaye, who is torn between his love for his father and his love for Nan. But in a severe illness, the girl’s presence restores to him the will to live. He finds that he cannot give her up, and this discovery causes a final break with his father. Tue or Port AGNEw—“‘Nan of the Sawdust Pile,” ostracized by the townsfolk, who has made two mis- takes in life—she has been deceived into motherhood by a bigamist, whom she left, and she has fallen in love with Donald McKaye, for whom she has named her child. Her : father dies, and she is faced with the problem of existence for < herself and herson. With The Laird’s assistance, she goes ; to New York, but comes back to Donald’s sick-bed and saves his life. Knowing The Laird’s feelings, she has refused to wed Donald. But when the latter comes to her with the news that the doors of his father’s house are closed to him, she oo changes her mind, and they are married at once. saved Donald from assassins’ knivés. XLIV Y noon of the following day, Port Agnew was astounded by news brought by the crew of one of the light-draft launches used to tow log rafts down the river. Donald McKaye was working for Darrow. He was their rafts- man; he had been seen out on the log boom, pike-pole in hand, shoving logs into the endless-chain elevator that drew them up to the saws. As might be imagined, Mrs. Daney was among the first to gleam this information, and to her husband she repeated it at luncheon with every evidence of pleasure. “Tut, tut, woman!” he replied carelessly. “This is no news 58 You will also meet Andrew Daney, the McKayes’ veteran general manager, fanatically loyal to the old laird; Mrs. McKaye and Donald’s two socially ambitious sisters, and “Dirty Dan” O’Leary, a faithful lumberjack, who once The first intimation The Laird had of his danger came to him in a warning shout from the left bank: “Jump overboard! Quickly! The log boom!” x to me. He told me yesterday after service that he had the job. The familiar wrinkle appeared for an instinct on the end of her nose before she continued. “T wonder what The Laird thinks of that, Andrew?” “So do I,” he parried skilfully. “Does he know it?” “There isn’t a soul in Port Agnew with sufficient courage to tell him.” “Why do you not tell him?” ‘None of my business. Besides, I do not hanker to see people squirm with suffering.” She wrinkled her nose once more and was silent. As Mr. Daney had declared, there was no one in Port Agnew possessed of sufficient hardihood to inform The Laird of his son’s lowly status, and it was three weeks before he discovered it for himself. He had gone up the river to one of his logging-camps, and the humor had seized him to make the trip in a fast little motor-boat he had given Donald at Christmas many years before. He was busy adjusting the carbureter, after months of disuse, as he passed the Darrow log boom in the morning, so he failed to see his big son leaping across the logs, balancing himself skilfully with the pike-pole. It was rather late when he started home, and with the knowl- edge that darkness might find him well up the river, he hurried. Now, from the Bight of Tyee to a point some five miles above Darrow the Skookum flows in almost a straight line; the few bends are wide and gradual, and when The Laird came to this home-stretch, he urged the boat to its maximum speed. As he sped along, he steered mechanically, his mind occupied in a consideration of the dishonor that had come upon his clan. The sun had already set as he came roaring down a wide, deep stretch near Darrow’s mill; in his preoccupation, he forgot that his competitor’s log boom stretched across the river fully two-thirds of its width, that he should throttle down, swerve 192 , INTRBNATIONAL MAGAZINE COMPANY — 4 aii $ wey a “a <. \ =

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well to starboard, and avoid the field of stored logs. The deep shadows cast by the sucker-growth and old snags along the bank blended with the dark surface of the log boom and prevented him from observing that he was headed for the heart of it; the first intimation The Laird had of his danger came to him in a warning shout from the left bank: “Jump overboard! Quickly! The log boom!” Old Hector awoke from his bitter reverie. He, who had once been a river-hog, had no need to be told of the danger incident to abrupt precipitation into the heart of that log boom, particu- larly when it would presently be gently agitated by the long, high “bone” the racing boat carried in her teeth. When logs weighing twenty tons come gently together, even when they barely rub against each other, nothing living caught between them may survive. The unknown who warned him was right. He must jump overboard and take his chance in the river, for it was too late now to slow down and put his motor in reverse. He was wearing a heavy overcoat, for it was late in the fall, and he had no time to remove it, not even time to stand up and dive clear. So he merely hurled his big body against the starboard gurwale and toppled overboard-—and thirty feet further on the boat struck with a crash that echoed up and down the river, telescoped, and drove under the log boom. It was not in sight when old Hector rose puffing to the surface and bellowed for help before starting to swim for the log boom. The voice answered him instantly: “Coming! Hold on!” Handicapped as he was with his overcoat, old Hector found it a prodigious task to reach the boom; as he clung to the boom- stick, he could make out the figure of a man with a pike-pole (cosmorouttan MAGAZINE) COPYRIGHTED IN GREAT BRITAIN The dramatic chmax of the epic novel of the great Northwest By Peter B. Kyne who lived this life himself coming toward him in long leaps across the logs. And then he noticed something else. He had swum to the outer edge of the log boom and grasped the light boom-stick, dozens of which, chained end to end, formed the floating enclosure in which the log supply was stored. The moment he rested his weight on this boom-stick, however, one end of it submerged suddenly; wherefore The Laird knew that the impact of the motor-boat had broken a link of the boom and that this broken end was now sweeping outward and downward with the current, releasing the millions of feet of stored logs. Within a few minutes, provided he should keep afloat, he would be in the midst of them, for, clinging to the end of the broken boom, he was gradually describing a circle on the outside of the log field, swing!ng from beyond the middle of the river into the left-hand bank; presently, when the boom should have drifted its maximum distance, he would be hung up, stationary, in deep water, while the released logs bore down upon him and gently shouldered him into eternity. He clawed his way along the submerging boom-stick to its other end, where it was linked with its neighbor, and the com-_ bined buoyancy of both boom-sticks was suflicient to float him. “Careful!” he called to the man leaping over the log field toward him. ‘The boom is broken! Careful, I tell you! The logs are moving out—they’re slipping apart. Be careful!” Even as he spoke, The Laird realized that the approaching rescuer would not heed him. He /ad to make speed out to the edge of the moving logs; if he was to rescue the man clinging to the boom-sticks, he must take a chance on those long leaps through the dusk; he must reach The Laird before too much open water developed between the moving logs. Only a trained river-man could have won to him in such a brief space of time; only an athlete could have made the last flying leap across six feet of dark water to a four-foot log that was bearing gently down, butt first, on the figure clinging to the boom-stick. His calks bit far up the side of the log, and the force of his impact started it rolling; yet even as he clawed his way to the top of the log and got it under control, the iron head of his long pike-pole drove into the boom-stick and fended The Laird out of harm’s way. Before the log the man rode could _ slip by, the iron had been released, and the link of chain between tke two boom-sticks had been snagged with the pike-hook, and both men drifted side by side. a 4 . — 4 & 4 3 : 4 , =

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“‘Safe-o!” his rescuer warned old Hector quietly. “Hang on. I’ll keep the logs away from you, and when the field floats by, I’ll get you ashore.” The Laird was too chilled, too exhausted, and too lacking in breath to do more than gasp a brief word of thanks. It seemed a long, long time that he clung there, and it was quite dark when his rescuer spoke again. “T think the last log has floated out of the booming-ground. {’ll swim ashore with you now, as soon as 1 can shuck my boots and mackinaw.” A few minutes later, he cried reassuringly, “All set, old-timer!” and slid into the water beside The Laird. “ Relax yourself and do not struggle.” His hands came up round old Hector’s jaws from the rear. “Let go!” he commanded, and the hard tow commenced. It was all footwork, and their progress was very slow, but eventually they won through. As soon as he could stand erect in the mud, the rescuer unceremoniously seized The Laird by the nape and dragged him high and dry up the bank. “Now then,” he gasped. “I guess you can take care of your- self. Better go over to the mill and warm yourself in the furnace- room. I’ve got to hurry away to ‘phone the Tyee people to swing a dozen spare links of their log boom across the river and stop those runaways before they escape into the bight ‘ and go to sea on the be ebb.”’ He was gone on PN the instant, clam- bering up the bank through the bushes that grew to the water's edge. “Must know that chap, whoever he is,” The Laird soliloquized. “Think he’s worked for me sometime or other. His voice sounds mighty familiar. Well— T'll look him up in the morning.” He climbed after his rescuer and stumbled away through the murk toward Darrow’smill. Ar- rived here, he found the fireman banking the fires in the furnace-room, and, while he warmed himself, one of them summoned Bert Dar row from the mill office. “Bert,” The Laird explained. “T’d be obliged if you’d run me home in more or less of a hurry in your closed car. I’ve been in the drink.” And he related the tale of his recent adventures. “Your raftsman saved my life,’” he con- cluded. “Who is he? It was so dark before he got to me I couldn’t see his face distinctly, but I think he’s a young fellow who used to work for me. I know because his voice sounds so very familiar.” “He’s a new hand, I believe. Lives in Port Agnew. I believe your man Daney can tell you his name,” Darrow replied evasively. “Tj ask Daney. The man was gone before I could recover enough breath to thank him for my life. Sorry to have messed up your boom, Bert, but we'll stop the runaways at my boom, and I’ll have them towed back in the morning. And I’ll have a man put in a new boom-stick and connect it up again.” Bert Darrow set him down at the Tyee Lumber Company’s Nan planned to call the baby Caleb. after her father Kindred of the Dust office, and, wet and chilled as he was, The Laird went at once to Mr. Daney’s office. The latter was just leaving for the day. “Andrew,” old Hector began briskly, “I drove that fast motor- boat at full speed into Darrow’s boom on my way down-river this evening; I’ve had a ducking, and only for Darrow’s raftsman you'd be closing down the mill to-morrow out of respect to my memory. Bert Darrow says their raftsman used to work for us, and he says you know who he is. I’ll remember him hand- somely at Christmas, and see that I do not forget this, Andrew. What is his name?”’ “Let me think.”” Mr. Daney bent his head, tipped back his hat, and massaged his brow before replying. ‘I think that when he worked for the Tyee Lumber Company, he was known as Donald McKaye.” He looked up. The old laird’s face was ashen. “Thank you, Andrew,” he managed to murmur presently. “G-g-good night.” Outside, his chauffeur waited with his car. ‘‘Home—and be quick about it!” he mumbled, and crawled into the tonneau slowly and weakly. As the car rolled briskly up the high cliff road to The Dreamerie, the old man looked far below him to the little light that twinkled on the Sawdust Pile. “She'll have his dinner cooked for him now and be waiting and watching for him,”’ he thought. XLV Hector McKAvyE suffered that winter. He dwelt in Geth- semane, for he had incurred to his outcast son the greatest debt that one man can incur to another, and he could not publicly ac- knowledge the debt or hope to repay it in kind. By the time spring came, his heart-hunger was almost beyond con- trol; there were times when, even against his will, he coh- templated a reconciliation with Donald based on an acceptance of the latter’s wife but with certain reservations. The Laird never quite got around to defining the reservations, but in a vague way he felt that they should exist, and that eventually Donald would come toa realization of the fact and help him define them. Each Sunday during that period of wretchedness he saw his boy and Nan at church, al- though they no longer sat with Mr. Daney. From Reverend Tingley, The Laird learned that Donald now had a pew of his own, and he won- dered why. He knew his son had never been remotely religious, and eventually he decided that, in his son’s place, though he were the devil himself, he would do exactly as Donald had done. t One Sunday in the latter part of May s The Laird observed that Nan came to , church alone. He wondered if Donald were at home, ill, and a vague apprehen- sion stabbed him; he longed to drop into step beside Nan as she left the church and ask her, but, of course, that was 60 Te

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~ Hector McKaye suffered that winter. He dwelt in Gethsemane, for he had incurred to his outcast son the greatest debt that one man can incur to another, and he could not publicly acknowledge the debt or hope to repay it in kind unthinkable. Nevertheless, he wished he knew, and that after- noon he spent the entire day on the terrace at The Dreamerie, searching the Sawdust Pile with his marine-glasses in the hope of seeing Donald moving about the little garden. But he did not “6 him, and that night his sleep was more troubled than usual. On the following Sunday, again Nan was not accompanied by her husband. The Laird decided, therefore, that Donald could not be very ill, otherwise Nan would not have left him at home alone. This thought comforted him somewhat. During the week, he thought frequently of telephoning up to Darrow and asking if they still had the same raftsman on the pay-roll, but his pride forbade this. So he drove up the river-road one day, and stopped his car among the trees on the bank of the riyer from the Darrow log boom. A tall, lively young fellow was leaping nimbly about on the logs, but so active was he that even at two hundred yards The Laird could not be certain this man was his son. He returned to Port Agnew more troubled and distressed than ever. Mrs. McKaye and the girls had made three flying visits down to Port Agnew during the winter, and The Laird had spent his week-ends in Seattle twice; ‘otherwise, save for the servants, he was quite alone at The Dreamerie, and this did not add to his happiness. Gradually the continued and inexplicable absence ot Donald at Sunday service became an obsession with him; he could think of nothing else in his spare moments, and even at times when it was imperative he should give all of his attention to important business matters, this eternal query continued to confront him. He lost his appetite and, in consequence, lost weight. Andrew Daney was greatly concerned about him, and, one day, apropos of nothing, he demanded a bill of particulars. “Oh, I dare say I’m getting old, Andrew,” The Laird replied evasively. “Worrying about the bey?” It was a straight shot, and old Hector was too inexpressibly weary to attempt to dodge it. He nodded sadly. “Well, let us hope he’ll come through all right, sir.” “Tsheill? What’s wrong with him, Andrew? Man, I’ve been eating my heart out for months, wondering what it is; but you know the fix I’m in. I don’t like to ask, and not a soul in Port Agnew will discuss him with me.” “Why, there’s nothing wrong with him that I’m aware of, sir. I spoke to Nan after services last Sunday, and she read me a portion of his last letter. He was quite well at that time.” “Wh-wh-where is he, Andrew?” “Somewhere in France. He’s not allowed to tell.” ‘France?’ Good God, Andrew, not France!” “Why not, may I ask? Of course he’s in France. He enlisted as a private shortly after war was declared. Dirty Dan quit his job and went with him. They went over with the Fifth Marines. Do you mean to tell me this is news to you?” he added, frankly amazed. “T do,” old Hector mumbled brokenly. this is terrible, terrible! I canna stand it, man.” and covered his face with his trembling old hands. ““Why can’t you? You wouldn’t want him to sit at home and be a slacker, would you? And you wouldn’t have son of yours wait until the draft-board took him by the ear and showed him his duty, would you?” “Tf he’s killed, I’ll nae get over it.” The Laird began t> weep childishly. “Well, better men, or, at least, men as fine, are paying that price for citizenship, Hector McKaye.” “But his wife, man? He is married. him.” “T believe his wife is more or less proud of him, sir. Her people have always followed the flag in some capacity.” “But how does she exist? Andrew Daney, if you’re giving her the money——” “Tf I am, you have no right to ask impertinent questions about it. But I’m not.” “Oh, Andrew man, He sat down “Twas not expected of 61 } q = | 4 & &

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One Sunday in the latter part of May The Laird observed that Nan came to church alone. “T never knew it; I never knew it,” the old man complained bitterly. “‘ Nobody tells me anything about my own son. I’m alone; I sit in the darkness, stifling with money— Oh, Andrew, Andrew, I didn’t say good-by to him! I let him go in sorrow and in anger.” “You may have time to cure all that. Go down to the Sawdust Pile, take the girl to your heart like a good father should, and then cable the boy. That will square things beautifully.” iven in his great distress, the stubborn old head was shaken emphatically. The Laird of Port Agnew was not yet ready to surrender. Spring lengthened into summer, and summer into fall. Quail piped in the logged-over lands, and wild ducks whistled down through the timber and rested on the muddy bosom of The Skookum, but, for the first time in forty years, The Laird’s setters remained in their kennels and his fowling-pieces in their leather cases. He was slowly disintegrating. In October, a Y. M. C. A. post-card from Donald, addressed to Andrew Daney brought the news that he was a first sergeant. The Laird felt a thrill of pride that his son had proved a leader of men and his health began to improve. Of late, he had observed that Nan no longer came to church; so he assumed she had found the task of facing her world bravely He wondered if Donald one somewhat beyond her strength. A few months before, this realization would have proved a source of savage satisfaction to him, but time and suffering were working queer changes in his point of view. Now, although he told himself it served her right, he was sensible of a small feeling of sympathy for her and a large feeling of resentment against the conditions that had brought her into conflict with the world. “T dare say,” Andrew Daney remarked to him about Christ- mas-time, “‘you haven’t forgotten your resolve to do something handsome for that raftsman of Darrow’s who saved your life last January. You told me to remind you of him at Christmas.” “T have not forgotten the incident,’ old Hector answered savagely. “T think it might be a nice thing to do if you would send word to Nan, by me, that it will please you if she will consent to have your grandchild born in the company hospital. Otherwise, I imagine she will go to a Seattle hospital, and with doctors and nurses away to the war, she may not get the best of care.” “Do as you see fit,” The Laird answered. -He longed to evade the issue—he realized that Daney was crowding him always, setting traps for him, driving him relentlessly toward a reconcilia- tion that was abhorrent tohim. “I have no objection.” The following day, Mr. Daney reported that Nan had declined £ “>

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were at home, ill, and a vague apprehension stabbed him with thanks his permission to enter the Tyee Lumber Company’s hospital. As a soldier’s wife, she would be cared for without expense in the base hospital at Camp Lewis. The Laird actually quivered when Daney broke this news to him. He was hurt—terribly hurt—but he dared not admit it. In January, he learned through Mr. Daney that he was a grand- father to a nine-pound boy and that Nan planned to call the baby Caleb, after her father. For the first time in his life then, The Laird felt a pang of jealousy. While the child could never, by any possibility, be aught to him, nevertheless, he felt that, in the case of a male child, a certain polite deference toward the infant’s paternal ancestors was always commendable. At any rate, Caleb was Yankee and hateful. “T am the twelfth of my line to be named Hector,” he said presently—and Andrew Daney with difficulty repressed a roar of maniac laughter. Instead, he said soberly: “The child’s playing in hard luck as matters stand; it would be adding insult to injury to cal) him Hector McKaye, Thirteenth. Isn’t that why you named your son Donald?” The Laird pretended not to hear this. Having been fired on from ambush, as it were, he immediately started discussing an order for some ship-timbers for the Emergency Fleet Corporation. When he retired to his own office, however, he locked the door and wept with sympathy for his son, so far“@ and in the shadow of death upon the occasion of t: birth of his first son. Spring came. With the winter’s supply of logs now gone, logging operations began in the woods with renewed vigor; the river teemed with rafts. Both Tyee and Darrow were getting out spruce for the government and ship-timbers for the wooden- ship yard along San Francisco Bay. Business had never been so brisk, and, with the addition of the war-duties that came to every community leader in 1918, The Laird found some surcease from his heart- hunger. Mrs. McKaye and the girls had returned to The Dreamerie, now that Donald’s marriage had ceased to interest anybody but themselves; so old Hector was not so lonely. But—the flag was flying again at the Sawdust Pile and his son was at the front; each day of toil for The Laird was never complete without an eager search of the casualty lists published in the Seattle papers. Summer succeeded the spring. The marine casualties at Belleau Wood and Chateau-Thierry appalled The Laird; he read that twenty survivors of a charge that started two hundred and fifty strong across the wheat field at Bouresches had taken Bouresches and held it against three hundred of the enemy—led by Sergeant O’Leary, of Port Agnew, Washington! Good old Dirty Dan! At last he was finding a legitimate outlet for his talents! He would get the Distinguished Service Cross for that! The Laird wondered what Donald would receive. It would be terr ble should Dirty Dan return with the cross and Donald McKaye without it. In September, Donald’s name appeared in the casualty list as slightly wounded. Also, he was a first lieutenant now. The Laird breathed easier, for his son would be out of it for a few months, no doubt. It was a severe punishment, however, not to be able to discuss his gallant son with anybody. At home, his dignity and a firm adherence to his previous announcement that his son’s name should never be mentioned in his presence forbade a dis- cussion with Mrs. McKaye and the girls; and when he weakly sparrred for an opportunity with An- drew Daney, that stupid creature declined to rise to the bait or even admit that he knew of Donald’s comirission. When told of it, he expressed neither surprise nor approval. In November, the great influenza epidemic came to Port Agnew and took heavy toll. It brought to The Laird a newer, a more formidable depres- sion. What if Donald’s son should catch it and die, and Donald be deprived of the sight of his first-born? What if Nan should succumb to an attack of it while her husband was in France? In that event, would Donald forgive and forget and core home to The Dreamerie? Somehow, ke had his doubts. . XLVI For a long time now, old Hector had felt a great urge to see Donald’s son. He had a curiosity to discover whether the child favored the McKayes or the Brents. If it favored the McKayes . —well, perhaps he might make some provision for its future in his will, and, to prove himself a good sport, he would leave an equal sum to Nan’s other child, which Donald had formally adopted a few days after his marriage. Why make fish of one and fowl of the other, he thought. They were both McKayes now in the sight of the law. He wanted tosee his grandson! The desire never left him during his waking-hours, and he dreamed of the child at night. So, in the end, he yielded and went down to the Sawdust Pile under cover of darkness, his intention being to sneak up to the little house and endeavor to catch a glimpse of the child through the window. He was enraged to discover, however, that Nan maintained a belligerent Airedale who refused, like all good Aire- dales, to waste his time and dignity in useless barking. He growled—once, and The Laird knew he meant it; so he got out of that yard in a hurry. 3 He was in a fine rage as he walked back to the mill office and got into his car.. Curse the dog! Was he to be deprived of a q 3 § 4

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of his grandson by an insensate brute of a dog? He’d Bot the animal first—no; that would never do. Nan would ome out, and he would be discovered. Moreover, what right had he to shoot anybody’s dog until it attacked him? The thing to do would be to put some strychnine on a piece of meat—no, no; that would never do. The person who would poison a dog— any kind of dog It was a good dog. The animal certainly was acting within its legal rights. Yes; he knew now where Nan had gotten it. The dog had belonged to First Sergeant O’Leary of the Fifth Marines; he had doubtless given it to Nan to keep for him when he went to the war. The Laird knew Dan thought a great deal of that dog. His name was Jerry, and he had aided Dirty Dan in more than one barroom battle. He went back to the Sawdust Pile at dusk the next evening, hoping Jerry would be absent upon some unlawful private busi- ness, but when he approached the gate slowly and noiselessly, Jerry spoke up softly from within and practically said, “Get out or take the consequences.” The following night, however, The Laird was prepared for Jerry. He did not halt at the dog’s preliminary warning but advanced and rattled the gate a little. Immediately Jerry came to the gate and stood just inside, growling in his throat; so The Laird thrust an atomizer through the palings and deluged Jerry’s hairy countenance with a fine cloud of spirits of ammonia. He had once tried that trick on a savage bulldog in which he desired to inculcate some respect for his person, and had succeeded be- yond his most sanguine expectations. Jerry’s first move was to stand on his head and cover his face with his paws. Then he did several back flips and wailed alo din his misery and woe, his yelps of distress quite filling the empyrean. But only for the space of a few seconds. Recovering his custom- ary aplomb, he made a flying leap for the top of the gate, his yelps now succeeded by ambitious growls, and, in self-defense, The Laird was forced to spray him again as he clung momentarily on top of the palings. With a sob, Jerry dropped back and buried his nose in the dust, while The Laird beat a hurried retreat into the darkness, for he could hear rapid footsteps inside the little house. Then the door opened, and, in the light that streamed from within, he was indistinctly visible to Nan as she stood in the doorway. “Jerry!” he heard her call. “Good dog! What’s the matter? After him, Jerry! Go get him, Jerry!” She ran to the gate and opened it for the dog, who darted through, but paused again to run his afflicted nose in the dust and roll a couple of times. The Laird ran blindly, apprehensively, but for a very short distance. Suddenly he bumped into something quite solid, which closed around him viciously. “Halt!” a commanding voice cried. Despite his years, Hector McKaye was no weakling, and in the knowledge that he could not afford to be captured and discov- ered, seemingly he slipped forty years from his shoulders. Once more he was a lumberjack, the top dog of his district—and he proceeded to fight like one. His old arms rained punches on the midriff of the man who held him, and he knew they stung cruelly, for, at every punch, the man grunted and strove to clinch him tighter and smother the next blow. “‘Let me go or I'll kill you!” The Laird panted. ‘Man, dinna drive me to it!” He ceased his rain of blows, grasped his adver- sary, and tried to wrestle him down. He succeeded, but the man would not stay down. He wriggled out with amazing ease and had old Hector with his shoulders touching, while two terrible thumbs closed down on each of The Laird’s eyes, with four powerful fingers clasping his face like talons. “Quit, or I’ll squeeze your eyeballs out” a voice warned him. The Laird’s hand beat the ground beside him. He had sur- rendered to a master of his style of fighting. With something of the air of an expert, his conqueror ran a quick hand over him, seeking for weapons, and finding none, he grasped The Laird by the collar and jerked him to his feet. ‘‘ Now then, my hearty, I’ll have a look at you,” he said. ‘ You'll explain why you’re skulk- ing around here and abusing that dog?” The Laird quivered as he found himself being dragged toward the stream of light, in the center of which Nan Brent stood sil- houetted. He could not afford this, and he was not yet defeated. “A thousand dollars if you let me go now,” he panted. ‘I have the money in my pocket. Ask yon lass if I’ve done aught wrong.” His captor paused and seemed to consider this. “Make it ten thousand and I'll consider it,” he whispered. “Leave it on the mail-box just outside the Tyee Lumber Com- pany’s office at midnight to-morrow night.” Kindred of the Dust “T’ll do it—so help me God!” The Laird promised frantically. His son’s voice spoke in his ear. “Dad—you low-down, worthless, lovable old fraud!” “My son! My son!” Old Hector’s glad cry ended in a sob. “Oh, my sonny boy, my bonny lad! I canna stand it. I canna! Forgie me, lad, forgie me—and ask her to forgie me!” His old arms were around his son’s neck, and he was crying on Donald’s shoulder, unashamed. ‘I was trying for a look at the bairn,’’ he cried brokenly, ‘‘and ’twas a privilege God would nae gie me see- ing that I came like a sneak and not like an honest man. The damned dog—he knew! Och, Donald, say ye forgie ye’re auld faither! Say it, lad! Ma heart’s breakin’!” ““Why, bless your bare-shanked old Scotch soul, of course I forgive you! I never held any grudge, you know. I simply stood pat until you could see things through my eyes.” “Ts that you, Donald?” Nan called. “ Aye, aye, sweetheart! -Dad’s here. He wants to know if you regard him as a particularly terrible old man. I think he’s afraid vou will refuse to let him look at Laird Hector Thirteenth.” ““Man, man,” the old man urged, quite shocked at this casual greeting of a returned hero to his wife, “go to her, lad. She’ll not relish favoritism.” “Oh, this isn’t our first meeting, Dad. I got home yester- day. I have thirty days’ leave. They sent me home as an in- structor in small-arms practise and gave me a boost in rank. I was just up-town for a beefsteak.” The Laird wiped his eyes and got control of himself. Pres- ently he said, “Keep that blessed dog off me,” and started resolutely for the front gate. Without a moment’s hesitation, he folded Nan in his arms and kissed her. “Poor bairn!” he whispered. “I’ve been cruel to you. For- give me, daughter, if so be you can find it in your heart to be that generous. God knows, lass, I’ll try to be worthy of you.” “Am I worthy of him?” she whispered, womanlike. “Far more than his father is,” he admitted humbly. ‘“You’re agood girl, Nan. You always were a good girl——” “But suppose she wasn’t—always?”’ Donald queried gently. “Ts that going to make any difference—-to you?” “I don’t care what she was before you married her. I haven’t thought about that for a long time the way I used to think about it. I—I accept her unconditionally, my son, and thank God she has the charity to accept an old Pharisee like me for a father-in-law.” Donald slipped his arm around Nan’s waist and started with her toward the door. “Tag along, father,” he suggested, ‘and Nan will show you a prize grandson.” At the door, Nan paused. “Do you think father McKaye,”’ she queried, “that the re- mainder of the family will think as you do?” “T fear not,” he replied sadly. ‘‘But then, you haven’t mar- ried the family. They’ll accept you or keep out of Port Agnew; at any rate, they’ll never bother you, my dear. I think,” he added grimly, ‘that I may find a way to make them treat you with civility at least.” “He’s a pretty good old sport after all, isn’t he Nan?” her husband suggested. “T’ll tell the world he is,” she answe:ed archly, employing the A. E. F. slang she had already learned from Donald. She linked her arm in old Hector’s and steered him down the hall to the living-room. ‘‘Your grandson is in there,” she said, and, open- ing the door, she gently propelled him into the room. Nan was right. His grandson was there, but, strange to relate, he was seated on his grandmother’slap! Hector McKaye paused and glared at his wile. “Damn it, Nellie!” he roared. ‘“‘What the devil do you mean by this?” “1’m tired of being an old fool, Hector,’ she replied meekly, and held the baby up for his inspection. “Tt’s time you were,’ he growled. “Come here, you young rascal, till I heft you. By the gods of war, he’s a McKaye!” He hugged the squirming youngster to his heart and continued to glare at his wife as if she were a hardened criminal. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you felt yourself slipping?” he demanded. “Out with it, Nellie.” “There will be no post-mortems,” Nan interposed. ‘ Mother McKaye and Elizabeth and Jane and [ patched up our diffi- culties when Donald came home yesterday. How we did it or what transpired before we did it doesn’t matter, you dear old snooper!”’ “What? Elizabeth and Jane? Unconditional surrender?” She nodded sriilingly, and The Laird (Continued on page 144)

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Dear O/d Squiff A side-splitting escapade of Archie in America By P. G. Wodehouse Illustrated by T. D. Skidmore be -@ RCHIE MOFFAM inserted a fresh cigarette in his long holder and gazed rather wistfully across the table at his friend, Roscoe Sher- riff, the press-agent. They had just finished lunch, and during the meal Sherriff, who, like most men of action, was fond of hearing his own Voice and liked exercising it on the subject of himself, had been telling Archie a few anecdotes about his professional past. From these, the latter had conceived a pictute of Roscoe Sherriff’s life as a prismatic thing of energy and adventure—just the sort of life,in fact, which he would have enjoyed leading himself. “The more I see of America,” sighed Archie, “the more it amazes me. Absolutely! All you birds seem to have been doing things from the cradle upward. I wish I could do things.” “Well, why don’t you?” Archie flicked the ash from his cigarette into the finger-bowl. “Oh, I don’t know, you know,” he said. “Somehow, none of our family ever have. I don’t know why it is, but whenever a Moffam starts out to do things, he infallibly makes a bloomer. There was a Moffam in the Middle Ages who had a sudden spasm of energy and set out to makea pilgrimage to Jerusalem, dressed as a wandering friar. Rum ideas they had in those days!” “Did he get there?” “Absolutely not! Just as he was leav- ing the front door, his favorite hound mistook him for a tramp—or a varlet or The press-agent looked cautiously round. “Here he is,’ he said. ““Where?™ said Archie. “In this bag™ a! 4 65

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a scurvy knave or whatever they used to call them at that time—and bit him in the fleshy part of the leg.” “Well, at least he started.” “Enough to make a chappie start—what?”’ Roscoe Sherriff sipped his coffee thoughtfully. He was an apostle of Energy, and it seemed to him that he could make a convert of Archie and incidentally co himself a bit of good. “Tf you're really keen on doing things,” he said, “there’s something you can do for me right away.” Archie beamed. “Anything, dear bov—anything! State your case.”’ “Would you have any objection to put- ting up a snake for me?” “* Putting up a snake?’”’ “Just for a day or two.” “But how do you mean, old soul? Put him up where?” “Wherever you live. Where do you live? The Cosmopolis, isn’t it? Of course! You married old Brewster’s daughter. I remember reading about it.”’ “But, I say, laddie, I don’t want to spoil your day and disappoint you and so torth, but my jolly old father-in-law would never let me keepa snake. Why, it’s as much as I can do sometimes to make him let me stop on in the place.” “He wouldn’t know.” “There’s not much that goes on in the hotel that he doesn’t know,” said Archie doubtfully. “He mustn’t know. It must be a dead secret.” Archie flickered some more ash into the finger- bowl. “‘T don’t seem absolutely to have grasped the affair in all its aspects, if you know what I mean,” he said. “I mean to say, in the first place, why would it brighten your young existence if I entertained this snake of yours?” “Tt’s not mine. It belongs to Madame Brudowska. You've heard of her, of course?” “Oh, yes. She’s some sort of perform- ing-snake female in vaudeville or some- thing—isn’t she—or something of that species or order?” “You’re near it, but not quite right. She is the leading exponent of highbrow tragedy on any stage in the civilized world.” “Absolutely! I remember now. My wife lugged me to see her perform one night. It all comesback tome. She had me wedged in an orchestra chair before I knew what I was up against, and then it was too late. I remember reading in some journal or other that she had a pet snake, given her by some Russian prince or other —what?” “That,” said Sheriff, “was the impres- sion I intended to convey when I sent the story to the papers. i’m her press-agent. As a matter of fact, I bought. Peter—its name’s Peter—myself down on the East Side. I always believe in animals for press-agent stunts. I’ve nearly always had good results. But with her nibs, I’m handicapped—shackled, so to speak. You might almost say my genius is stifled—or strangled, if you prefer it.” “Anything you say,” agreed Archie courteously. ‘‘But how? Why is your what-d’you-call-it what’s-it-named?”’ “She keeps me on a leash. She won’t let me pull anything with a kick to it. If I’ve suggested one rip-snorting stunt, I’ve suggested twenty, and every time she turns them down on the ground that that sort of thing is beneath the dignity of an artist in her position. So now I’ve made up my mind to do her good by stealth. I’m going to steal her snake.” “Stealit? Pinch it, as it were?” “Yes. Big story for the papers, you see. She’s grown very much attached to Peter. He’s her mascot. I believe ste’s Dear Old Squiffy practically kidded herself into believing that Russian-prince story. If I can sneak it away and keep it away for a day or two, she’ll do the rest. She’ll make such a fuss that the papers will be full of it.” see.” “Now, any ordinary woman would work in with me. But “T say, old top, you know, I simply can't sleep in not her nibs. She would call it cheap and degrading and a lot of other things. It’s got to be a genuine steal, and, if I’m caught at it, I lose my job. So that’s where you come in.” “But where am I to keep the jolly old reptile?” “Oh, anywhere. Punch a few holes in a hat-box and make it up a shake-down inside. It’ll be company for you.” “Something in that. My wife’s away just now, and it’s a bit lonely in the evenings.” “You'll never be lonely with Peter around. He’s a great scout. Always merry and bright.” “He doesn’t bite, I suppose, or sting, or what-not?” “He may what-not occasionally. It depends on the weather. But, outside of that, he’s as harmless as a canary.” “Dashed dangerous things, canaries,” said Archie thought- fully. “They peck at you.” “Don’t weaken!”’ pleaded the press-agent. path ;

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P. G. Wodehouse 67 “Oh, all right. I’ll take him. By the way, touching the matter of browsing and sluicing—what do I feed him on?” “Oh, anything. Bread and milk or fruit or soft-boiled egg or dog-biscuit or ants’ eggs. You know—anything you have yourself. Well, I’m much obliged for your hospitality. I'll do the same for you another time. Now I must be getting along this room now. I was wondering if you could give me a doss somewhere in yours to see to the practical end of the thing. By the way, her nibs lives at the Cosmopolis, too. Very convenient. Well, so long. See you later.” Archie, left alone. began, for the first time, to have serious doubts. He had allowed himself to be swayed by Mr. Sher- riff’s magnetic personality, but now that the other had removed himself, he began to wonder if he had been entirely wise to lend his sympathy and cooperation to the scheme. He had never had intimate dealings with a snake before, but he had kept silkworms as a child, and there had been the deuce of a lot of fuss and unpleasantness over them—getting into the salad and what-not. Something seemed to tell him that he was paging Trouble with a loud voice, but he had given his word and he supposed he would have to go through with it. He lighted another cigarette and wandered out into Fifth Ave- nue. His usually smooth brew was ruffled with care. Despite the eulogies which Sherriff had uttered concerning Peter, he found his doubts increasing. Peter might, as the press-agent had stated, be a great scout, but was his little Garden of Eden on the fifth floor of the Cosmopolis Hotel likely to be improved by the advent of even the most amiable and winsome of serpents? However—— “Moffam! My dear fellow!” The voice, speak- ing suddenly in his ear frem behind, roused Archie from his reflections. In- deed, it roused him so effectually that he jumped a clear inch off the ground and bit his tongue. Re- volving on his axis, he found himself confronting a mid- dle-aged man with a face like a horse. The man was dressed ip something of an Old-World style. His clothes had an Eng- lish cut. He had a drooping gray mus- tache. He also wore a gray derby hat flattened at the crown—but who are we to judge him? Archie had placed him now. He had not seen General Mannister for sev- eral y;ears—not, in- deed, since the days when he used to meet him at the home of young Lord Seacliff, ‘his nephew. Archie had been at Eton and Oxford with Sea- cliff. “Hullo, General! What ho! What ho! What on earth are you doing over here?” “Let’s get out of this crush, my boy.” General Mannister steered Archie into a side-street. “That’s better.” He cleared his throat once or twice, as if embarrassed. “I’ve brought Seacliff over,” he said finallv. “Dear old Squiffy here? Oh, I say! Great work!” General Mannister did not seem to share his enthusiasm. He looked like a horse with a secret sorrow. “Vou will find Seacliff changed,” he said. “Let me see— how long is it since you and he met?” Archie reflected. “T was demobed just about a year ago. I saw him in Paris about a year before that. The old egg got a bit of shrapnel in his foot or something, didn’t he? Anyhow, I remember he was sent home.” “His foot is perfectly well again now. But, unfortunately, the enforced inaction led to disastrous results. You recollect, no doubt, that Seacliff always had a—a tendency—a—a weak- ness—it was a family failing.” ““Mopping it up, do you mean? Shifting it? Looking on the jolly old stuff when it was red and what-not—what?” “Exactly.” Archie nodded. | \ \ \

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68 Old Squiffy “Dear old Squiffy was always rather a lad for the wassail- bowl. When I met him in Paris, I remember he was quite tolerably blotto.” “Precisely. And the failing has, I regret to say, grown on him since he returned from the war. My poor sister was ex- tremely worried. In fact, to cut a long story short, I induced him to accompany me to America. I am attached to the British embassy in Washington now, you know.” “Oh, really?” “T wished Seacliff to come with me to Washington, but he insists on remaining in New York. He stated specifically that the thought of living in Washington gave him the—what was the expression he used?” “The pip?” “, } j leh

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. P. G. Wodehouse 69 elastic fittings, and long before the gastrocentrous and proccelous character of its vertebrae had made any real impression on him, a piercing scream almost at his elbow startled him out of his ' scientific reverie. A door opposite had opened, and the woman of the elevator was standing staring at him with an expression of horror and fury that went through him like a knife. It was the expression which, more than anything else, had made Madame Brudowska what she was professionally. Combined with a deep voice and a sinuous walk, it enabled her to draw down a matter of a thousand dollars per week. Indeed, though it gave him little pleasure, Archie, as a matter of fact, was at this moment getting about, including war-tax, two dollars and seventy-five cents’ worth of the great emotional star for nothing. For, having treated him gratis to the look of horror and fury, she now moved toward him with the sinuous walk, and spoke in the tone which she seldom per- > mitted herself to use before the curtain of act two, unless there was a whale of a situation that called for it in act one. “ Thief!” It was the way she said it. Archie staggered backward through the open door of his room, kicked it to with a flying foot, and sat down on the bed. Peter, the snake, who had fallen on the floor with a squashy sound, looked surprised and pained for a moment, and then, being a philosopher at heart, cheered up and began hunting for flies under the bureau. Peril sharpens the intellect. Archie’s mind, as a rule, worked in rather a languid and restful sort of way, but now it got going with a rush and a whir. He glared round the room. He had never seen a room so devoid of satisfactory cover. And then there came to him a scheme, a ruse. It offered a chance of escape. It was, indeed, a bit of all right. Peter, the snake, loafing contentedly about the carpet, found himself seized by what the encyclopedia calls the ‘‘distensible gullet” and looked up reproachfully. The next moment he was in his bag again, and Archie, bounding silently into the bathroom, was tearing the cord off his dressing-gown. There came a banging at the door. A voice spoke sternly: “Say! Open this door!” It was a masculine voice. Archie rapidly attached the dressing-gown cord to the handle of the bag, leaped to the window, opened it, tied the cord to a projecting piece of iron on the sill, lowered Peter and the bag into the depths, and closed the window again. The whole affair took but a few seconds. Generals have received the thanks of their nations for displaying less resource on the field of battle. He opened the door. Outside stood the bereaved woman, and beside her a bullet-headed gentleman with a derby hat on the back of his head, in whom Archie recognized the house detec- tive. The house detective also recognized Archie, and the stern cast of his features relaxed. He even smiled a rusty but propitiatory smile. He imagined—erroneously—that Archie, being the son-in-law of the owner of the hotel, had a pull with that gentleman; and he resolved to proceed warily. “Why, Mr. Moffam!” he said “T didn’t know it was you I was paging.” “Always glad to have a chat,” said Archie cordially. ‘What seems to be the trouble?” ‘““My snake!” cried the queen of tragedy. snake?” Archie looked at the house detective. looked at Archie. “This lady,” said the house detective, with a dry little cough, “thinks her snake i is in your room, Mr. Moffam.” ““¢Snake?’”’ ‘“‘Snake’s what the lady said.” ““My snake! My Peter!” Madame Brudowska’s voice shook with emotion. “He is here— here in this room!” Archie shook his head. “No snakes here. Abso- lutely not! Iremember notic- ing when I came in.” “The snake is here—here in this room! This man had it m ina bag. Isawhim! He is a thief!” “Easy, ma’am!” protested the house detective. ‘‘Go easy. This gentleman is the boss’s son-in-law.” “T care not who he is! He . has my snake! Here —here!” “Where is my The house detective “Mr. Moffam wouldn’t go around swiping snakes.” “Rather not,” said Archie. ‘Never swiped a snake in my life. None of the Moffams have ever gone about swiping snakes. Regular family tradition. “He is here! Here! My Peter!” Archie looked at the house detective. The house detective looked at Archie. “We must humor her,” their glances said. “Of course,” said Archie, “if you’d like to search the room— what?” “T will search the room!” said Madame Brudowska. The house detective glanced apologetically at Archie. “Don’t blame me for this, Mr. Moffam,” he urged. “Rather not! Only too glad you’ve dropped in.” He took up an easy attitude against the window and watched the empress of the emotional drama explore. Presently she desisted, baffled. For an in- stant she paused, as though about to speak, then swept from the room. A moment later, a door banged across the passage. “How do they get that way?” queried the house de- tective. \ \ A) \ fe ay j Pg y \ ; f BiH 4 & j * im with an expression of fury that went through him like a knife =

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70 Dear Old Squiffy : “*The female of the species is more deadly than the male,’” said Archie. “It’s the hot weather,” said the house detective judicially. “Well, g’-bv, Mr. Moffam. Sorry to have butted in.” The door closed. Archie waited a few moments, then went to the window and hauled in the slack. Presently the bag appeared over the edge of the window-sill. “Good God!” said Archie. In the rush and swirl of recent events he must have omitted to see that the clasp that fastened the bag was properly closed, for the bag, as it jumped onto the window-sill, gaped at him like a yawning face. And inside it there was nothing. Archie leaned as far out of the window as he could manage without committing suicide. Far below him, the traffic took its usual course, and the pedestrians moved to and fro upon the sidewalks. There was no crowding, no excitement. Yet, only a few moments before, a long green snake with three hundred ribs, a distensible gullet, and gastrocentrous vertebre must have descended on that street lixe the gentle rain from heaven upon thé place beneath. And nobody seemed even interested. Not for the first time since he had arrived in America Archie marveled at the cynical detachment of the New Yorker, who permits himself to be surprised at nothing. He shut the window and moved away with a heavy heart. He had not had the pleasure of an extended acquaintanceship with Peter, but he had seen enough of him to realize his sterling qualities. Somewhere beneati Peter’s three hundred ribs there had lain a heart of gold, and Archie mourned for his loss. Archie had a dinner and theater engagement that night, and it was late when he returned to the hotel. He found his father- in-law prowling restlessly about the lobby. There seemed to be something on Mr. Brewster’s mind. He came up to Arctie with a brooding frown on his square face. “Who’s this man Seaclifi?” he demanded without preamble. *T hear he’s a friend of yours.” “Oh, you've met him—what?” said Archie. “Had a nice little chat together—yes? Talked of this and that—no?” *We have not said a word to each other.” “Really? Oh, well, dear old Squiffy is one of those strong, silent fellers. you know. You mustn’t mind if he’s a bit dumb. He never says much, but it’s whispered round the clubs that he thinks a lot. It was rumored, in the spring of Nineteen thirteen, that Squiffy was on the point of making a bright remark, but it never came to anything.” Mr. Brewster struggled with his feelings. “Who is he? You seem to know him.” “Oh. ves. Great pal of mine, Squiffy. We went through Eton, Oxford. and the Bankruptcy Court together. And here’s arummy coincidence. When they examined me, I had no assets. And when they examined Squifiy, he had no assets! Rather extraordinary— what?” Mr. Brewster seemed to be in no mood for discussing co- incidences. “IT might have known he was a friend of yours,” he said bit- terly. ‘Well, if you want to see him, you'll have to do it outside my hotel.” “Why. I thought he was stopping here.” “He is—to-night. To-morrow he can look for some other hotel to break up.” “Great Scott! Has dear old Squiffy been breaking the place up?” ‘ Mr. Brewster snorted. ‘I am informed that this precious friend of yours entered my grill-room at eight o’clock. He must have been completely intoxicated, though the head waiter tells me he noticed nothing at.the time.” Archie nodded approvingly. “Dear old Squiffy was always like that. .t’s a gift. How- ever woozled he might be, it was impossible to detect it with the naked eye. I’ve seen the dear old chap many a time whiffled to the eyebrows and looking as sober as a bishop. Soberer! When did it begin to dawn on the lads in the grill-room that the old egg had been pushing the boat out?” “The head waiter,” said Mr. Brewster, with cold fury, “tells me that he got a hint of the man’s condition when he suddenly got up from his table and went the round of the room, pulling off all the table-cloths and breaking everything that was on them. He then threw a number of rolls at the diners and left. He seems to have gone straight to bed.” “Dashed sensible of him—what? Sound, practical chap, Squiffy!) But where on earth did he get the—er—materials?”’ “From his room. I made inquiries. He has six large cases in his room.” : “‘Squiffy always was a chap of infinite resource. Well, I’m dashed sorry this should have happened, don’t you know.” “Tf it hadn’t been for you, the man would never have come bere.” Mr. Brewster brooded coldly. ‘I don’t know why it is, but ever since you came to this hotel, I’ve had nothing but trouble.” “Dashed sorry!” said Archie sympathetically. | “Grrh!” said Mr. Brewster. Archie made his way meditatively to the elevator. The in- justice of his fatker-in-law’s attitude pained him. It was abso- lutely rotten and al! that to be blamed for everything that went wrong in the Hotel Cosr opolis. Wile tiis conversation was in progress, Lord Seacliff was enjoying a refreshing sleep in bis room on the fourth floor. Two Lours passed. The noise of t) e traff-c in tke street below faded awcy. Only the rattle of an occasional belated cab broke tke silence. In the hotel, all was still. Mr. Brewster had gone to bed. Archie, in his room, smoked meditatively. Peace may have been said to reign. At half-past two, Lord Seacliff awoke. His hours of slumber were always irregular. Fe sat up in bed and switched the light on. He was a shock-headed young man with a red face and a hot brown eye. He yawned and stretched himself. His head was aching a little. The room seemed to him a triffe close. He got out of bed and threw open the window. ‘Then, returning to bed, he picked up a book and began to read. Much has been written on the subject of bed-books. The general consensus of opinion is that a gentle, slow-moving story trakes the best opiate. If this be so, dear old Squiffy’s choice of literature had been rather injudicious. His book was ‘Tle Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,” and the particular story which he selected for perusal was the one entitled ‘‘The Speckled Band.” He was not a great reader, but, when he read, he liked something with a bit of zip to it. Scuifiy became absorbed. He had read the story before, but a long time back, and its complications were fresh to him. The tale, it may he remembered, deals with the activities of an ingenious gentleman who kept a snake and used to loose it into people’s bedrooms as a preliminary to collecting on their in- surance. It gave Scuifly pleasant thrills, for he had always bad a particular horror of snakes. As a child, he had shrunk from visiting the serpent-touse at the Zoo; and, later, when he had come to man’s estate, and had put off childish things and settled down in real’earnest to his self-appointed mission of drinking up all the alcotolic fluid in England, the distaste for Ophidia tad lingered. To a dislike for real snakes had been added a maturer shrinking from those which existed only in his im- agination. He could still recall his emotions on the occasion, scarcely three montts before. when he had seen a long green serpent which a majority of his contemporaries had assured him wasn’t there. Scuiffy read on. Suddenly another sound became audible—a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam esceping continuously from a kettle. Lord Seaciiff looked up from bis kook with a start. Imagina- tion was beginning to play him tricks. He could have sworn that he had actually heard that identical sound. It had seemed to come from tke window. He listened again. No! All was still. He returned to his book and went on reacing. It was a singular sight that met our eyes. Beside the table, on a wooden chair, sat Doctor Grimesby Roylott, clad in a long dressing- gown. His chin was cocked upward, and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his head. I took a step forward. In an instant, his strange head-gear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat, diamond- shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent—— “Ugh!” said Squiffy. He closed the book and put it down. His head was aching worse than ever. No fellow could read himself to sleep with this sort of thing. Blighters ought not to write it. His heart gave a bound. There it was again—that hissing sound! And this time he was sure it came from the window. He looked at the window, and remained staring, frozen. Over the sill, with a graceful, leisurely (Concluded on page 125) /(

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ws Wane Long By Will Payne . Illustrated by Harrison Fisher HE poker game broke up about four o’clock in the morning. Four of the men engaged in it immedi- ately left the so-called club-rooms in a body, but Thayer Holt, son of the president of the Consoli- dated Bank, lingered a few minutes. Finishing the champagne in the open bottle on the table, he lighted a cigar and strolled over to another table to see how the game there was going on. The police were aware of this smart and exclusive gaming- establishment, and, although they were not likely to interfere, the management pursued a conservative course. The windows were thickly curtained, and habitués used the alley door. At half-past four, Thayer Holt descended to that alley door in the sunny frame of mind which a pleasant evening, good luck at cards, and considerable champagne naturally induces in a robust The story of a woman’ s wit—and a man’s and genial young man whom Fortune has favored with a rich, liberal-minded father. He peeled a twenty-dollar bill off the thick roll in his trousers’ pocket and bestowed it on the negro servitor at the door, along with a brilliant smile. And so, in high contentment with the world, he stepped into the alley, along which he must walk for thirty feet before gaining the street. Two hours later, dawn and a startled janitor discovered his body in that alley. Money and watch were gone. It was clear that a lurking highwayman, or company of such, who also knew about that gaming-establishment and the rich and careless prey which issued therefrom, had held him up, robbed him, and killed him by a blow over the head with a blunt instrument. Ben Bodet had long entertained a high regard for Bedford Holt, president of the Consolidated Bank, and he had a sincere = ati

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affe Or Panker’s genial son,who had spent many friendly hours in the detective’s lodging in the Carman Building, on Michigan Boulevard, in interested and interesting conversation. Young Holt was, in fact, thirty-one, a bachelor, showing abun- dant promise of a solid ability worthy of his father, but not yet steadily settled down in the harness. As soon as he heard of the crime, therefore, Bodet called on his friend Inspector McCabe, of the Police Department, and offered his services—not as the professional man-tracker, but with a hot will to avenge this abhorrent murder of one he loved. And as he looked into the circumstances, that vengeful will grew hotter and more fixed. Almost invariably, a street hold-up is accomplished by pre- senting a revolver at the victim’s head. Almost invariably, if the victim resists at all, he resists at once—sometimes by the mere automatic reaction of pugnacious nerves. The answer to resistance on his part is a shot. But no shot had been fired. There was no indication that Holt had resisted. Bodet felt sure he had been robbed and then struck down as he walked away— probably only to make sure that he would never identify the robber or robbers. The idea that genial Thayer Holt’s blood had been spilled in some such cold-hearted beastliness—merely as a fairly superficial measure of precaution—was very intoler- able to the detective. He felt sure that whoever killed Thayer Holt was as careless of human life as any brute. He declared to Inspector McCabe that if he couldn’t bring that wanton mur- derer of his friend to book, he’d give up his calling and turn pedler. And for a time it looked as though he would have tocarry out that threat. Not the least clue appeared. The murder made its due sensation. As usual, the newspapers were pretty severe on the police all round—wanting to know whether they hadn’t been aware of that genteel gaming- resort and. if they had been aware of it, why they hadn’t shut it up, and inquiring what good a Police Department was, anyway, if it couldn't find a gaming-resort which thugs knew all about, and then couldn’t find the murderer. In a moment of annoyance, Inspector McCabe remarked to a reporter that famous Ben Bodet haan’t been able to find the murderer, either, although he had sworn he would find him or give up his calling. That made a good story for the reporter—although it annoyed Bodet more or less when he saw it in print. But the detective’s mail. one morning, contained an envelop addressed to him at his lodging. The address was printed in capital letters of uneven size and straggling out of line, like the clumsy handiwork of a child that is just learning to use a pen. The sheet of note-paper within contained this n.essage, in the same infantile chirography: Lefty Hutch did it. Buck Dirk wuz their. Of course it had not been written by a child but by some one who wished to make sure that the handwriting would not betray its origin. Probably the eccentric spelling was adopted for the same reason. Bodet thought at once of a jealous woman, be- cause anonymous Communications of that sort oftenest come from such a source. Asa reader of the newspapers, he knew something about Lefty Kutch, and even had a vague recollection of Buck Dirk. There was once a region west of the Chicago River which had inherited from pioneer days the designation of ‘‘Mulligan’s Pond.” At the time in question, it was a forlorn region which the city had grown around without exactly absorbing. Mean houses cluttered it, and the streets were mostly unpaved. Its temper was unsocial. Prudent policemen, pursuing their duties there, walked in the middle of the street or traveled in pairs. An arrest was generally a feat of arms. In that region, the Hutch family had exercised a sort of outlandish leadership. It was a numerous family, with various relatives by marriage, all forming a kind of outlaw clan, forever engaged in guerilla warfare with the forces of law and order as incarnated in the police. At length, “Prairie Dog” Hutch, and h’s brother-in-law, Hi Dirk, had been killed in a memorable all-cay battle with the police—the insurgents having barricaded themseles in Hi Dirk’s house. That marked the downfall of the clan. The city had then reached a stage of urban self-consciousness waere it could not longer tolerate that unre- deemed section. All that had happened twenty-five years before. The “pond” was now prosaically built over with factories and warehouses. Only the older inhabitants would have remembered its romantic days, except that Lefty Hutch—youngest son of Prairie Dog, and only a lad at the time of the memorable battle—gave the news- papers every now and then occasion to recount the history of the family from which he descended. He had been tried for murder The Long Shot once, but acquitted. He had been convicted of burglary, had served a six-year term in the penitentiary. He had been sus- pected of many other crimes. In this very matter of the murder of Thayer Holt, Inspector McCabe had looked toward him, but found no ground on which to have him formally arrested. Holt had been struck on the left side of his head. If he had been struck from behind. as Bodet believed, that might indicate that a left-handed man had delivered the blow, and Lefty Hutch was left-handed. But a charge of murder could not be based on grounds as dubious as that. Buck Dirk was Lefty Hutch’s cousin and companion. Both were far outside of Bodet’s professional field, which lay mostly along La Salle Street, among the big banks and brokerage offices. But he had dedicated himself to this case as a labor of love or retribution, and he at once took his anonymous letter to Inspector McCabe. : A woman was to be sought as the author of the letter. The police, always with the tail of their eye on characters like Hutch, knew that he was living with a woman who passed as his wife and to whom he was said to be lawfully wedded, although the police thought. that an open question—and of no particular importance either way. They knew her by the name of Kit Law- rence, and believed that shoplifting was among her accomplish- ments. She had been “ detained” and questioned several times, but no evidence had ever come to light on which she could be formally charged with any crime. On reading the letter, Inspec- tor McCabe gave instructions that the two men be brought to his office, and that the woman be questioned later on, unknown to the men, while they were still in custody. Bodet took part in the examination of the men. He found that Lefty Hutch was tall and gangling, with shoulders slightly stooped, muscular in spite of the spareness of his frame. His face was bony and so nearly fleshless and colorless that it looked cadaverous. It was a long face. and dull-looking except for the intelligence that twinkled in the small, ratlike eyes. His ears were large but flat, as though they had been pressed hard against the sides of his head, and his dust-colored hair was thin over the top of his skull. Altogether, it was a face easily identified. He spoke in a low, toneless voice; so that one had to listen carefully in order to hear the words that slipped through his thin and almost motionless lips. Now and then it seemed to Bodet that the ghost of a sardonic grin flitted in his ratlike eves and on his thin lips. There, thought Bodet, was a man who would kill as lightly as an urchin throws a stone at a sparrow—or one of those human beasts who kill for mere bloodthirsty pleasure. There, thought Bodet, is the man who killed Thayer Holt. But there was no proof whatever. Hutch said he had spent the night of the murder at home. His wife and Buck Dirk and two others had been there during the evening, playing cards, listening to the phonograph, and drinking a little beer. The party broke up about midnight, but Buck Dirk and a guest from out of town spent the night in his flat. It was a good alibi. Buck Dirk cor- roborated it. He seemed about Hutch’s age, but shorter and fleshier, phlegmatic, also, but with a certain surly truculence underneath the phlegm. A long, thin mustache, wide mouth, and sleepy-looking eyes, set not quite straight in his head, made one think of a fat Cossack. After the two men had been taken away and locked up for tke present, Bodet went over to the modest West Side flat which constituted the.domicile of Mr. and Mrs. Lefty Hutch, and found Mrs. Hutch at home. He surmised that she was rather expecting a visit from himself or one of Inspector MtCabe’s men. She was, perhaps, thirty, and not without some valid claims to beauty. Her abundant dark-red hair, warm brown eyes, and straight nose would have contented most women. Her figure might have been called too heavy; yet it was graceful. She was modestly and becomingly dressed; her manner was perfectly collected and quite polite. Bodet at once saw in her the wary, hunted woman, ever alert, skilled in dodging the net, with nerves hardened to iron. She let him do practically all the talking, in the main only answering his pointblank questions, and then as briefly as possible. He showed her the anonymous note. She said she didn’t write it and had no idea who could have written it. Besides, it was untrue; her husband and Buck Dirk were at home that night. He pumped with all bis skill for an hour anda half, but brought up nothing—or almost nothing. There was, now and then, a glance at him out of her brown eyes; now and then a little restless movement of her body or her hands. There was something indefinable that only a sixth sense in him apprehended. The woman presented a surface as hard and flawless as an iron wall; but, all the same, he seemed to see, or feel, the fluttering of a bird behind the wall that wanted to ®

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¢ \ A | \ N \ | \ Wiz | | \\\ icking wild flowers Bodet saw a woman behind the little clump of bushes, evidently picking ars 73

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74 The Long Shot escape. He knew, from the police records, that she had been born in a village near Lake George, New York. He spoke of that country. For ten seconds there was a dreaming look in her eyes as she agreed with him that it was a lovely country. He knew, also from the police, that she had a sister living in Chicago— poor, but perfectly respectable, married to an industrious me- chanic, mother of two children. The police said Kit Lawrence’s notoriety was a sore trial to this sister; yet the two women kept up a certain sisterly intercourse. Bodet brought that in, and she hardened at once—evidently not wanting to speak about it. He went away empty-handed as to anything a policeman or prosecuting attorney could use. but with a belief that Kit Law- rence had written him that note-—a belief in a fluttering captive behind that wall which wanted to escape. But he had only his sixth sense for proof. Nor was Inspector McCabe more fortunate. Not a shred of legal evidence could be produced against Lefty Hutch and Buck Dirk. The police were obliged to release them. Bodet waited. The winter passed. One lowering day early in April, a gang of automobile bandits held up a bank near the stock-yards, killed the cashier outright, mortally wounded the pay- ing teller, seized thirty-six thousand dollars, and escaped in their waiting car. But the police got descriptions of two of the robbers. by which they identified them as Lefty Hutch and Buck Dirk. At once an alarm was sent broadcast over the country. Mrs. Hutch, or Kit Lawrence, had disappeared the day be- fore the robbery. Nat- urally the police were anxious to learn her whereabouts. One of Inspector Mc- Cabe’s men set quietly to work among the neighbors of Kit Law- rence’s respectable sis- ter. The neighbors knew all about the dis- reputable sister, and some of them, of course, derived therefrom that satisfaction which virtuous people feel in knowing something scandal- ous about a neigh- bor. Early in May, one such virtuous neighbor notified Inspector Mc- Cabe’s man that the respectable sis- ter’s small daugh- ter had just posted a letter addressed to Miss Margaret Winslow, at the general delivery, Schenectady, New York. The respect- able sister’s corre- spondence was ex- ceedingly limited; so the posting of a letter was some- thing of an event. Fortunately, the virtuous neighbor had seen the little girl on the way to the letter-box at the corner, had rather skilfully waylaid her, and gotten a peep at the address. The letter was posted about ten o’clock in the long-distance communication with the Schenectady police, and, agreeably to the promise he nad made, he at once let Ben Bodet know of this new clue—if it were a clue. Bodet had thirty minutes in which to catch the train. Bodet and Sergeant Olson reached Schenectady early Wednes- day morning, and at once got in touch with the local police, whom Inspector McCabe had reached by telephone the day before. Watch had been set at the post-office for a woman who should call there asking for a letter addressed to Miss Margaret Winslow. The police had the descriptions, which had been sent out from Chicago, of Lefty Hutch, Buck Dirk. and Kit Lawrence, contain- ing a replica of Lefty Hutch’s rogues’-gallery photograph. But Sergeant Olson knew all three of them perfectly by sight. He proposed to watch at the post-office himself. Meanwhile, local detectives were looking the city over for anybody corresponding to the descriptions. That left nothing in particular for Bodet to do. He waited at police headquarters for something or anything that would give a leading. Never had he waited with a hotter impatience. That Buck Dirk had seen Kit Lawrence steal up to the man morning. Inspector McCabe got word of it an hour later, and immediately started Detective Sergeant Olson of his staff for Schenectady. By catching the fastest train, soon after noon, the sergeant would reach Schenectady before the letter did, or, at least, as soon as the letter. The inspector also got in bea The hin goc fac in cou qué pat hac mo cur WO! pas bac wo gui dri EG \\\\ = wy Cp =x ANY 4 / ZF LAL: fe \\\\ T tu tc

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Will Payne 75 beastly murder of his friend Thayer Holt had seared into him. All he was:asking of the gods was just to place him face to face with the murderer in such wise that the beast ° could be brought to book. The leading came about a quarter past nine. A new patrolman, traveling his beat, had noticed a black auto- mobile drawn up at a curb, a man driving, a woman beside him, a male passenger on the back seat. The woman had a road- guide. She and the driver seemed to be arguing about directions, or uncertain’about them. As the patrolman strolled near, something impressed him—an indefi- nite idea that there was something important about that car. He slackened his pace, his eyes on the occupants of the front seat. The woman looked up from the road-guide when he was almost abreast of the car. “Oh, here’s a policeman! He’ll know,” she said to her com- panion at once, and, to the patrolman, “Officer, where do we turn to get on the road to Troy?” She was a quite nice-looking woman. The officer touched his cap and explained that they had come past the turn for the road to Troy; they should go back. He gave the direction. “Thank you,” said the woman, smiling. The car at once rolled briskly away. The patrolman watched it—somewhat puzzled. . There was something or other about it. Half an hour later, a suggestion occurred tohim. He telephoned headquarters, arrived there in person soon after nine, and looked over the printed descriptions, with photographs, of men that were to be looked out for. “That’s the man,” he said most positively, laying his finger on the likeness of Lefty Hutch which had been sent broadcast from Chicago directly after the bank robbery and which this new pa- trolman had looked over, along with other like notices, nearly a month before. “I knew there was something about that man,” he confessed—hardly knowing whether to take credit for that much or to take blame for not having made the identification more promptly. From the descriptions, he was sure the other people in the car were Buck Dirk and Kit Lawrence, and the car was a black, five-passenger Babson, with an Ohio license-plate. They were going to Troy, then; and would Kit Lawrence come back for her letter? But Bodet said: “They were going anywhere but to Troy. Kit Lawrence took alarm at the questioning look in the police- man’s eye. She asked the innocent tourist question to distract his mind and throw him off the scent. Watch the post-office and notify Troy; but I’m going to take the long shot. I believe they’ve gone north to the Lake George region, where Kit Law- rence was brought up. Let me have a car, and Ill follow that trail. Nothing in particular I can do here, anyway.” A car was put at his disposal; he got the simple road-directions and started—about an hour and three- quarters behind the fugitives, as he calculated from the patrolman’s statement. That was a handicap, but he was ready to accept handi- caps. He felt that he had Lefty Hutch at his finger-tips, and any- thing was more tolerable than the idea that Thayer Holt’s murderer might get away. He was ready to take any chance except that one. At once, a chance presented itself to him. He had hardly got clear of the city when the borrowed car stopped, and he found that the right- hand rear hub-cap had fallen off, letting the floating axle slip out far enough so the driving-gear could get no hold upon it. Progress, in that shape, was impossible. It was a heavy affliction, but the cap might have fallen off only a short way back. He started back, looking along the roadside, and, to his joy, soon saw the missing article lying there. But that was not the end of the trouble. When he came to replace the cap, he found that the threads by which it screwed on had worn or been broken down, so that it was impossible to screw the cap on securely. Applying force to the wrench merely broke down the defective threads further and made the matter worse. Here was a-trying dilemma. To go back to town and hunt up a new hub-cap of that make and model might mean losing an hour, and he was already nearly two hours behind the quarry. To go ahead might mean losing the cap altogether and simply breaking down on the road. Screwed on caretully by hand, the cap would hold in an insecure fashion. In his impatience, he decided to go ahead, stopping for a minute every now and then to look at the cap and tighten it as much as it would stand. That untoward incident cost him perhaps ten minutes. Start- ing again, he stepped on the gas vigorously and was encouraged by the way the machine responded. It was a capital road, and he raced along it, calculating anxiously, one eye on the speedom- Pl « WN GA | \ \\ \\\\\ SA Ne ND | / /

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76 The Long Shot eter, how much he might be cutting down Lefty Hutch’s lead. If Lefty went only twenty-five miles an hour and he went fifty, the fugitives should be overhauled before noon. But one couldn’t keep up a pace of fifty miles an hour; curves and, once in a while, a passing vehicle required slowing down. Presently he was crossing a barren and gently undulating up- land from which the timber had been cut except here and there a little stunted second growth. No cultivated fields appeared, and there was not a habitation in sight. There, he hardly met a vehicle. The broad expanse mostly lay empty under a bright May-morning sun. But the road was tip-top. lie rushed up a Jong, gradual ascent and, as he gained the top, saw that he didn’t have the landscape quite to himself. A quar- ter of a mile ahead, a big yellow truck stood at the edge of the road—presumably afflicted with engine-trouble or a like tempo- rary incapacity. It reminded him of his hub-cap. He took his foot off the accelerator and soon began to press the brake. His car rolled past a meager clump of stunted bushes and stopped. Springing out, he stripped off his coat and vest, for the day was getting warm and he meant to replace the coat without the vest when he got back in the car. In that swift action, Bodet saw a woman behind the little clump of bushes. her back to him, evidently picking wild flowers. He might have surmised that she had been riding on the stalled truck just ahead and had wandered back there, picking flowers, while repairs were made. But he didn’t go so far as to surmise. anything. His mind was hotly bent on tightening up that hub-cap. He squatted at the wheel, examining that infamous cap. It was very loose again, merely hanging by a hair. If he hadn’t stopped, most likely he would have lost it in the next five minutes. That was exasperating. Probably he would have done better if he had turned back at the outskirts of Schenectady and got a new cap; but he simply couldn’t bear losing the time. ‘Those things were in his mind as he squatted at the wheel, gingerly iurning the cap by hand and feeling how well, or ill, the worn threads held. He ex- amined the wheel itself. With some stout wire, one might fasten that cap on, attach- ing the wire to the spokes and twisting it round the defective member. At the next farmhouse he might stop and see if he could get a suitable piece of wire—or even a rope. “I’m too impatient, too . reckless,” he told himself bitterly, as he fingered the cap. And just then he was sensible of a sharp pull at his hip where the black handle of his automatic pistol had pro- truded from the hip-pocket, not concealed any longer by his coat. Instinctively he clapped his hand there as he sprang up and found himself looking into the face of Kit Lawrence, three feet away. She held some wild flow- ers in her left hand, and his pis- tol in her right; but both hands hung at her side, and she re- garded him with no particular hostility. “Buck was looking at me,” she said, lhbw—and again Bodet felt the flutter of the captive behind the wall. ; He then looked in the oppo- site direction and saw that a black automobile stood just ahead of the big truck and a trifle further to the right, so that the truck had concealed it from him as he came on in his car. And at that distance of two hundred yards, he instantly recognized at the right-hand side of the truck a stout figure which was coming toward them. It was, of course, Buck Dirk. Buck had seen his car stop and looked that way. The woman had said, “Buck was looking at me.” If he had only cast a look in the direction of the truck after he sprang out of his car, he would have seen the black automobile, like the one he was pursuing. If he had looked only a moment at Hutch's ratlike eyes amined the detective with inbred suspicion the stooping woman by the bushes—who had doubtless looked round when his car stopped—he would have recognized Kit Lawrence. But in his haste and his preoccupation with the idea that the fugitives were far ahead, he had done neither. Evi- dently, their car had broken down. Apparently, whoever was driving the truck had stopped in a friendly way to help repair thecar. That they could break down an hour or so out of town, and so be close at hand instead of far away, was an idea that might have got itself into his head; but it simply hadn’t in any useful way. Knowing well that he was on the trail of cutthroats who would kill at-sight, for to be caught meant to be hanged, he hadn’t so much walked into a trap as just gratuitously trapped himself and handed Limself over. He realized that with a search- ing humiliation, and thought, “And I call myself a detective— eveless blockhead that I am!” Buck Dirk had seen a car stop and a man spring out of it, peel off his coat, and squat at the right-hand rear wneel. He had seen Kit Lawrence straighten up and look round and watch a minute, then steal up tothe man and snatch his pistol. Of course, that meant something. He remarked to Lefty Hutch, who, with the obliging truck-driver, was prodding the stalled engine, ‘‘Guess we've got callers.” And, with that,he walked back. Ina moment he recognized Ben Bodet: In another moment, he was gazing into the detective’s face—his own fleshy face, with thin black mustache, wide mouth, and oblique eyes, looking very deadly. “Hello, Bodet!”’ he said. “Broke down, I see,” the detective observed. “Yes,” Dirk replied and reached his hand for the detective’s weapon, which the woman at once surrendered to him. Dirk examined it with some curiosity. “Maybe I can help you. I’m pretty good at mechanics,” the detective suggested cheerfully. The truck must, at least, have had a driver. Perhaps there had been more than one man on it. Naturally, Bodet wanted to get as near to them—or him —as possible. But he only made the suggestion, not trying to force the play by walking toward the truck. “The truck-driver is trying to help Lefty now; he’s a nice boy,” said Kit Lawrence; and her brown eyes, looking straight into Bodet’s, conveyed more meaning than her words. Buck Dirk coolly interpreted that meaning for Bodet’s benefit by observing, “We can kill him, too, if we have to.” Bodet was aware of that wide, sunny, empty ex- panse—not a habitation in sight. A vehicle might appear on the road in half a minute—or in halfanhour. If one did appear and he hailed it. or if he hailed the truck-driver who was a nice boy, undoubtedly somebody would get killed at once. His quarry had nothing to lose, anyway. The evidence against them in the bank-murder case was conclusive; their necks were forfeit if they were caught. He was unarmed. And by that time he saw the gangling, somewhat stoop-shoul- dered figure of Lefty Hutch mov- ing up the road toward them. Buck Dirk stepped over, glanced into Bodet’s car, and re- marked, “This looks like a pretty good machine.” “First rate,” Bodet replied. “Only, that hub-cap is a bit loose. I stopped here to tighten it. I may as well finish the job.” He squatted at the wheel again. Although he couldn’t exactly see her, he thought the woman was observing him from a little dis- tance. Fora minute, he fingered 4 the loose cap, then stood up, dusting his hands one against His eyes encountered Kit Lawrence’s gaze. For tre other. an instant she regarded him with an odd, inscrutable look; then she walked away to meet her husband. Bodet sat down on the weedy little bank by the roadside and folded his arms. Dirk stood by the engine, his right hand, clasping Bodet’s pistol, (Continued on page 105) thrust in his coat pocket. a ‘ @ th b | SS S n 4 h r

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Out of him as if dragged by wild horses came the words he could never dream of himself as saying: “I—love—you. God help me!” The Pleasant Person By Frank R. Adams HE O. Henry touch in this story comes:in the second paragraph, thus saving the cursory reader the trouble of wading through it to find the dénouement, or kick. Watch closely—there’s nothing up the sleeve. Here’s the plot: L. Reese Kennett believed that a young woman might be a member of a dancing chorus in a Broadway musical comedy and nevertheless be a person of as unimpeachable morals as a convent-bred débutante. He found one who was. (No exclamation-point or anything—that’s the modern method —emphasis without straining for it with mechanical aids.) The rest of the narrative is only for those who believe in fairy- stories. Kindly check your critical faculty at the door as you come in and leave behind the statement: ‘‘It couldn’t really happen.” Even L. Reese himself admitted that it seemed im- possible. The first name of L. Reese Kennett was shrouded in mystery. His mother knew, but he put a Black Hand curse on her never to reveal it. Having a choice of two appellations, he elected to be known as “Reese;” so the other one must have been pretty bad. - A twentieth-century fatry-story Illustrated by Grant T. Reynard As intimated above, he suffered from optimism, believed in the League of Nations and all that sort of thing. His sympathies were easily roused, and you could have sold him stock in the Milky Way Exploitation Company if he had had any money to buy it with. Not that he was poor. On the contrary, he was paid a perfectly huge salary as editor of a trade-journal, but, for some reason or other, he always seemed to have just spent all he had. He bought books with some of his money—lots of them—but that couldn’t have eaten up his entire income. Maybe it was be- cause, of the shirts, neckties, and socks which cluttered up the drawers of his dresser, for he was a confirmed collector of impossi- ble male lingerie. But even that could not have absorbed every- thing. Reese knew what a ‘“‘personal budget” was, but had never been hampered by one himself. He followed the good old rule of the Irish adventurer, which is, ‘“To spend without stint so long as there is a guinea in the purse, and after that manage somehow.” L. Reese Kennett and his money were always soon parted, but he wasn’t a fool by any means. Who knows but that he had more fun out of his vanishing funds than does the chap who gets financial indigestion if wie amee-cheee ; as oa | i 4 nf

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78 The Pleasant Person comes to seventy-five cents more than he has allowed for it on Schedule B, Personal Expenses. The amazing thing about the way L. Reese made a joke out of his salary was the fact that there was no one specially who helped him spend it. If he had been the gentleman friend of a vampire, it would have been easy to account for the weekly financial crisis. But L. Reese, had he ever encountered a lady with clinging looks and draperies, would have gone right over the fence without touching his hands, and thereafter would have obscured his license-number in a cloud of dust. The unfair sex was a delightful mystery to L. Reese. He thought noble thoughts about it, dreamed of it upon un- comfortable and dizzy pedestals, but never lured one of it into a dark corner with intent to commit osculation. Part of his ailment was shyness, the rest ideals. When he heard other men telling how annoyed they were by beautiful women calling them up and fighting for | ind words and tée-d-tétes, L. Reese had two reactions. One of them was mal de mer, the same as anyone else, and the other was acute disbelief. According to L. Reese, charm- ing girls did not pursue blatant asses. Alas, what a pity that L. Reese is wrong! So, well dressed though he was, and good-looking in a somewhat uncultivated way, with his ideals in his hand offered freely for some woman to appropriate to her own selfish ends, L. Reese pursued a narrow-gage, single-track way. No one had yet discovered what a good thing he was up to the time he was thirty, which is the year that “Thistle Blossoms” began its eighteen month’s stay at the Gaylord Theater. “How they ever picked so many of ’em for one musical show gets me,” declared Corbin, who had a desk in the same office as L. Reese. ‘‘I don’t know yet which one of the darlings is going to lure me from home, but I can feel myself slipping from my attitude of studied indifference.” Corbin had attended the opening performance and had been vastly entertained, albeit he could not remember whether the book was any good or the score exceptionally musical. Others went to ‘‘ Thistle Blossoms” also, and re- ported unanimously that it was worth seeing. By the time L. Reese was sufficiently intrigued to think of ‘having a look-see for himself, the speculators were getting from two to five dollars premium on observation-posts within hailing- distance of the stage. Our hero bought one of those and went alone, prepared to contradict the judgment of the male enthusiasts of his acquaintance. He came away ina trance, thinking lofty, rosy thoughts, and smoked three pipes of tobacco, sitting before his gas-grate in an attitude vaguely reminiscent of “The Reveries of a Bachelor.” Because there was one of the Thistle Blossoms who was different from all the others. This difference did not manifest itself physically. She had a pure soul and a wonderful disposition. Probably L. Reese was the first person who had ever ex- pressed it that way. But, after his diagnosis, it was possible for even a cyni- cal observer to notice things which might tend to confirm L. Reese’s judgment. For Miss Fourth-from-the-Right-End was a pleasant person. If you looked closely, you noticed that she smiled as if she were having- charming thoughts, not, as most chorus-girls do, because it is part of their business. An- other thing about her smile was that it did not seem to be directed toward anyone in particular. Tired business men, see- ing it, were convinced offhand that if some one as pleasant as that were waiting for them at home o’nights, they would not be nearly so fatigued, and care-worn wives, sitting alongside, wist- fully pictured themselves as equally charming were it not for the irascible nagging of preoccupied, money-making spouses. Alto- gether, she was the sort of person every man wished he knew, and every woman thought she was. When L. Reese had seen her for the fourth time—that was two weeks later—he learned her name. One of the Sunday newspa- pers published her picture in the rotogravure section. Gloria Shawn was the poetical combination by which she was known to fame. L. Reese made a little song about it—‘‘Shawn—Shawn— dawn—gone,” being the rime-scheme and general motif. It was very pathetic. He was a hopeless lover. Also a hopeless song- writer. Fortunately, that was not his life work. Here were all the materials for a first-class romance, except that the two principals didn’t know each other and, from _ the looks of things, probably never would. L. Reese found it prac- tically impossible to get her to consent to marry him merely by sending interrogatory mental waves across the footlights. Thought-transference sometimes undoubtedly occurs, but most girls can’t be won without a little caveman stuff, just at the finish at least, and in order to become rough with a lady, you have to get within arm’s length before you can begin. Finally, even L. Reese saw that, for his peace of mind, it was going to be necessary for him to make an effort to become ac- quainted with Gloria Shawn. He loathed the conventional methods of the male flirt, but could think of no really original There was one of the Thistle Blossoms who was She had a pure soul stuff that would serve his purpose. He attended the show almost nightly now in the hope that a fire, or at least a minor panic of some sort, would occur, so that he could put into practise his cherished determination to leap across the orchestra pit onto the stage and rescue the particular Thistle Blossom labeled “Shawn.” He felt that, when he released her from his strong arms out in open air, he might introduce himself and beg to be allowed to call. But it was a bad year for theater panics. The Gaylord was disgustingly safe and prosperous. Finally, in despair, he took Corbin half into his confidence. The latter had bragged of his acquaintance with the ladies of the profession. Corbin was quite sure that it could be arranged, and offered to stage a little party for an evening in the imme- diate future. Hedid not know Miss Shawn herself, but he was acquainted with several members of the company, and he would ask Corb Shaw alwa: festa felt with was was, she resp ~ é : * 4 j t t | {

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1S al ask one of the other girls to bring Gloria along. Two days later, Corbin reported that the plan was a damp firecracker. Miss Shawn had declined with thanks. The other girls said that she always did. L. Reese was torn by conflicting emotions of joy at her mani- festation of character and chagrin at her inaccessibility. But he felt that he must worship her, and hated to do it any longer without letting her know about it. So he wrote her a note. It was banal and unworthy of him, but when you get the way he was, what else can you do? He knew he would not respect her if she answered it, but he was beginning not to care so much about respecting her if he could only love her a little. difterent from all the others. This difference did not manifest itself physically. and a wonderful disposition He need not have worried. The usher to whom he entrusted the note and two dollars did not search him out after the first act to slip a reply into his hand. L. Reese sighed with relief when the curtain finally went up on the second half of the entertainment. His love, though hopeless, was being lavished on a worthy object. But it exasperated him none the less and drove him on to fur- ther asininity. He made a pest of himself with flowers, notes, candy, notes, books, and more notes. A sense of security made him extravagant in his wireless wooing. As he grew more certain that she would never pay the least attention to him, would never, hever consent to meet him, he allowed his imagination and de- spairing passion a free rein. He quoted freely from the poets, and even sent her the song he had made up himself, shyly attributing the lyric, however, to a forlorn contemporary bard, who had shot himself just after penning the lines: Frank R. Adams GLORIA SHAWN Gloria, Gloria, Gloria Shawn! The face and the grace of you Fleeting as dawn. Tf you care, tell me where Has the heart of me gone, Since the night when my sight Fell on Gloria Shawn. L. Reese did not tell where the alleged poet had shot himself, but he allowed it to be inferred that the love-lorn rimester was thereafter a complete casualty and need not stand in the way of Gloria and _ himself becoming good friends. This fantastic, one-sided corre- spondence grew to alarming propor- tions. And there was never an answer at all. Finally, he felt absolutely sure that there never would be an answer. It was just at this point that Gloria, after the fash- ion of her justly celebrated sex, fooled him. She wrote him a note, which he found at his apart- ment on arrival one evening at six-thirty P.M. This wasin the tenth week of his unremitting, unre- guited affection. It read: Call at the stage- door to-night after the performance. As there may be others waiting, please wear a white handkerchief round your silk hat for pur- poses of identification. That’s all—no sig- nature or any ad- dress. But in L. Reese’s life there was only one stage-door, and only one_per- formance; so it was not necessary to be more explicit. The part about the white handkerchief round the silk hat caused him a mo- ment’s dismay, al- though he admitted that it would serve excellently well as a mark of identifica- tion. But he had no silk hat. Since she had said “silk hat,” it never occurred to him that any other kind would do. And all of the hat stores were closed for the night. However, his foolish passion surmounted the difficulty. Corbin had a silk hat, and he telephoned that sartorial sport to leave it at home that evening where he (L. Reese) could get it as he came by. After dressing with meticulous care and dining in nervous haste, he went after Corbin’s hat, wearing a small cap, with the idea of jamming it into his overcoat pocket when he got the tile. Corbin had left the hat all right. Only, it was unfortunate that L. Reese took a seven-and-a-quarter hat-band, while Corbin’s intellect could be confined very easily in six-and-seven-eighths head-gear. The discrepancy in measurement is greater than it sounds on paper. On Reese’s head, the Corbin hat looked much like a thimble on an apple, and it required constant concentra- c- ly S. st sh 0 il 4 oe | f | 3 3

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the thimble from skidding. Reese was glad when he got to the theater and could check the apparatus for his balancing act with the cloak-room girl. For the first time, he was late for the opening chorus. He wondered if she missed him, if she knew that his aura was absent. He was positive now, since receiving the note, that her soul had been tuned from the same diapason A as his own, and would be sure to sense the non-presence of its spiritual complement. Even before the final curtain had hit the floor for the first time, L. Reese was back at the cloak-room claiming his temporary Beau Brummell, and, with it balanced perilously on his brov, was hastening round to the stage-door. He was quite aware that she could hardly appear in the costume she wore for the finale—-mostly black lace over pink personality—but he had no previous experience by which to gage the speed of an actress. getting into street clothes. So he took no chances. Round on the side-street, he found the slamming vestibule that was labeled “ Stage-Door,” and took his post. Unlike many stage-doors, it was in a brilliantly lighted spot. This made L. Reese feel a little conspicuous, especially after he had draped his handkerchief round, the cake-walker’s delight. Passers-by looked-at him inquiringly and grinned, sometimes loudly, as the significance of his garb and location advertised themselves. But the young man, tortured in his soul by an aversion to being ridiculous, suffered manfully. This night meant more to him than a little petty ridicule from strangers. It seemed a long while before anyone came out at all, and he wore out each foot alternately by standing on it for incalculable periods of time without shifting. At last, groups of two or three be- gan to drift through the door, chatting interestedly among themselves. Few saw him at all—those who did laughed incuriously. The men were first out, . the stage-hands in the lead, then chorus-men, few girls, the male principals, more girls and the women who had _ speaking parts, the soubrette. the ingénue, and the star prima-donna. Then no more went by at all—the door ceased slam- ming; the little light over the vesti- bule was turned out. - L. Reese could not understand it. Sure- lv ste could not have passed without see- ing him. Surely he would have known if she had stepped out of the door. He was positive that she had not. Reese was in an agony of indecision. It seemed disloyal to her trust to leave, and yet—why stay? Thelighthadwinked Sep. out; thetheater’s day } The woman ar- was done. Asa stage- door johnnie, he was a horrible fiasco. He would never try again. He started to go, but he heard a voice inside. ‘Good-night, Mister Murray,” it was saying, ‘‘and swate dreams to ye, ye good-fer-nothin’ but lovable ould loafer! I’m likin’ ye these ten years gone, but, for all that, I’d never hire you fer doorman at my theayter. See to it ye have a letter for me the morrow or I'll show you what for. I will that.” The door opened, and out into the night stepped a woman of late Victorian figure and severely simple garments, probably about fifty years of age. Reese had a moment’s difficulty in classifying her. Thes he happened to recollect that every rested him with a hail. “Was you waitin’ fer some The Pleasant Person musical show has a wardrobe woman to take care of the cos- tumes. He sighed and started away once more. “Say, mister!”” The woman arrested him with a hail. ““Yes,” Reese turned backward reluctantly. “Was you waitin’ fer some one?” She was peering at him near-sightedly through her spectacles. “Why, you’re the gentle- man with the white handkerchief on his hat! Bless my soul, I didn’t think you’d ever do it!” “Do what?” “Believe a word of that lyin’ note they sent you.” “*They sent??’ Who are ‘they’’” Reese demanded. “Them divils of ponies. A joke’s a joke, say I, but how could they know but you’d take it seriously, as you did?” “Wait! Do you mean to tell me that Miss Shawn did not write the note telling me to come to the stage-door to-night?” “Listen, lad: I wrote that note meself—sure I’ve been readin’ everything you wrete to her—and I wrote the note for a lark, but I never dreamed the imps would send it. It was just a joke among us back-stage and in the dressin’-rooms.” A groan escaped as pride and spirit departed simultaneously from the -young man’s thoroughly dejected body. “Don’t be takin’ it too hard, boy,” the woman counseled. “Why, I’d even ordered the supper and a bunch of flowers for her and everything.” “Well,” the wardrobe woman considered practically, “if the supper is all ordered and you’ve got to pay for it anyway, you'd oetter hustle round and find another girl before it’s spoilt entirely. There’s hundreds of others in New York, and ti “Not for me,’ wearily. “Vou didn’t really care about a ’ he protested a Ry Jane in the chorus that you never met?” i “T guess I did,” he admitted. “It / was kind of tunny about this. I ee never tried to get acquainted with a git! so hard before in al] my live.” “You poor nut!” she murmured, with a ~ sympathy that robbed | the phrase of its sting. ! “But, at that, it’s a ‘ shame to let the sup- per spoil.” “Would you do me the honor to eat it in her place?” L. Reese asked, with court'y politeness. “Qh, I didn’t mean that, sir.” “But I do.” “Think how I look.” “Does that matter to you? It doesn’t to me. J really would like to have you with me. I’m not apt to be very cheerful company, but something tells me you will, and that’s just what I need.” “You flatterer! never resist you.” “Resist me?” L. Reese repeated blankly. “Bless you, they’ve never done anything else—er—I mean I never gave them any cause to resist.” . “T understand. I never met anyone like you be‘ore, but I’ve read about you, and I think my grandfath:r i? Ireland was one of you.” “Tf you mean the Sinn Fein, I——’ “T don’t. I meant ‘gintleman,’ as they used to understand the word. And I accept yer invitation to supper with pleasure, Mr. “Kennett—L. Reese Kennett.” “T accept. with pleasure, Mr. Kennett, if you'll take that thing off vour little boy’s hat. You may call me ‘Mrs. Sheehan’-- until I tell you different.” The table which he had chosen at the Stuyvesant grill was not too conspicuous. The head waiter may have looked in some astonishment at the little oid iady who accompanied the young man in evening clothes across the café floor, but if he did, L. Reese was serenely unconcious of it. For him, distinctions of clothes did not exist. He knew only that this was a kindly lady who sympathized with him keenly in his disappointment. That fact he did not question. The restaurant and its central dance-floor was a riot of youth and beautiful gowns, both of which were identified more par- I'll bet the girls can rh |

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She danced a gold thread round and round the hearts of her audience and of her lover until it and he were her prisoners under a spell ticularly with the ladies. Most of the men were middle-aged or past that. Since the war, our young men have never reclaimed the dance-floor. L. Reese’s party was practically the only one in which the relative ages of the members was inverted. The orchestra was playing the ‘‘Thistle-down Dance.” “She’s in this number,” Reese said simply. “So are twenty-three other girls and twelve men,” added Mrs. Sheehan prosaically. “T noticed there were some others,” Reese admitted. “But ye never counted?” “T had something else to do with my eyes besides count.” “She has a nice pair of ankles,” Mrs. Sheehan suggested. “She’s perfect! But her smile is the best of all. Since I first saw her, I’ve been watching the faces of other women to find out what is different about hers.” “ And what did ye find, lad?” “Mostly that women only smile for a reason. They’re born diplomats, I guess. Here in New York, anyway, I’m thinking the habitual expression is a bit of a pout. Women, young girls even, appear perpetually dissatisfied, malcontent. Id hate to try to please most of the faces I’ve seen.” “And you think Gloria Shawn is something different?” “T’m sure of it, or I’d never have made such an ass of myself trying to meet her. Now I never will.” He changed abruptly. “You know her well. Tell me about her.” “You mean you want to know who her folks are and where she came from and——” “Lord, no! 1 don’t care about that. I suppose what I’d really like to know is what she is thinking about when she smiles that way and if her favorite flowers are pansies.” (Continued on - ge 98) 0S- i im : le- 4 Ww | ot in’ ot ed a gor? 3 ‘ a & e n J 5 { n e

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It was like watching a starved plant draw up water to see Irene drink in his companionship XIX JOLLY SITS IN JUDGMENT HE possessive instinct, which, so determinedly balked, Was animating two members of the Forsyte family toward riddance of what they could no longer possess, was hardening daily in the British body politic. Nicholas, originally so doubtful concerning a war which must affect property, had been heard to say that these Boers were an obstinate lot; they were causing a lot of expense, and the sooner they had their lesson the better. He would send out Wolseley! Seeing always a little further than other people—whence the most considerable fortune of all the Forstyes—he had perceived ay that Buller was not the men—‘‘a bull of a chep, and if The man who acquired: OAMES FORSYTE, nicknamed by his family ‘The Man of Property,” conservative and prosperous London solicitor, son of James Forsyte and Emily. He is separated from his wife, Irene. He is childless, and, wanting above all things a son, wishes to obtain a divorce and remarry This he knows will be difficult to obtain under the English law after twelve years of separation, and besides, it would be a severe shock to his relatives He has a sister—— Dartie. Her man-of-the-world husband has run off to South America with a Spanish dancer and his wife’s pearls, and she is taking steps to divorce him The Darties have four children. The eldest are Imogen, of “coming-out” age, and Val, now a student at Brasenose College, Oxford. Soames decides that if he can free himself of his marriage-tie he will try to marry-—— ANNETTE Lamotte, a French gil, daughter of a restau- rant-keeper in Soho. He has prevailed upon his cousin Jolyon Forsyte to approach his wife on the subject of divorce. She merely sends back word that she is sorry Soames 1s not free Soames, seeing no other way out of his dilemma, resolves to try to win back Irene, but she will have nothing to do with him. ‘they didn’t look out, Ladysmith would fall’ This was early in December; so that, when Black Week came, he was enabled to say to everybody, “I told you so.” During that week of gloom such as no Forsyte could remember, very young Nicholas at- tended so many drills in his corps, ‘The Devil’s Own,” that young Nicholas consulted the family physician about his son’s health, and was alarmed to find that he was perfectly sound. The boy had only just eaten his dinners and been called to the bar, at some expense, and it was, in a way, a nightmare to his father and mother that he should be playing with military effi- ciency at a time when military efficiency in the civilian popula- tion might conceivably be wanted. His grandfather, of course, pooh-poohed the notion, too thoroughly educated in the feeling that no British war could be other than little and professional, and profoundly distrustful of imperial commitments, by which, 1920, sy MAGAZINE COMPARE ie aw 2 | hancer y | for th f mo dow gra Th the cry eve thir go ( Ra vor on COPYRIGHT. wit (008

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A New Novel by John Galsworthy Illustrated by W. D. Stevens The woman who loved: RENE, the estranged wife of Soames, who has resumed her maiden name of Heron. Twelve years before the story opens, Soames employed an architect named posinney (to whom June Forsyte, daughter of Jolyon Forsyte by his first wife, was betrothed) to build a home, Robin Hill, in the suburbs of London, for himself and Irene. Irene and Bosinney fell in love, which caused Soames to leave his wife only a short time before Bosinney was accidentally killed. A few years later, Irene meets again-—— Op Jotyon ForsyTE, an eccentric uncle of Soames, who has bought and is living at Robin Hill. Her beauty brings Indian summez into the close of Jolyon’s long life, and, dying, he leaves her, to the shocked amazement of the family, a legacy, of which—— Youne: Jovyon Forsyte, his son, a painter, is the trustee. Young Jolyon now lives at Robin Hill with June, and the children of his second wife, now dead: Jolly, who is at Christ Church, Oxford, and Holly, with whom Val Dartie is in love. The estcangement between Soames’ side of the family and that of the Jolyon Forsytes over the affair between Irene and Bosinney has kept these two young people strangers to one another until they have grown up. moreover, he stood to lose, for he owned De Beers, now going down fast—more than a sufficient sacrifice on the part of his grandson. At Oxford, however, rather different sentiments prevailed. The inherent effervescence of conglomerate youth had, during the two months of the term before Black Week, been gradually crystallizing into vivid oppositions. Normal adolescence, ever in England of a conservative tendency, though not taking things too seriously, was vehement for a fight to a finish and a g00d licking for the Boers. Of this larger faction, Val Dartie was naturally a member. Radical youth, on the other hand, a small but perhaps more vocal body, was for stopping the war and giving the Boers auton- omy. Until Black Week, however, the groups were amorphous, Without sharp edges, and argument but academic. Jolly was MAGASINE) COPYRIGHTED IN GREAT BRITAIN one of those who knew not where he stood. A streak of his grand- father old Jolyon’s love of justice, prevented his seeing one side only. Moreover, in his set of “the best” there was a “jumping jesus” of extremely advanced opinions and some personal mag- netism. Jolly wavered. His father, too, seemed doubtful in his views. And though, as was proper at the age of twenty, he kept a sharp eye on his father, watchful for defects which might still be remedied, still that father had an “air” which gave a sort of glamour to his cieed of ironic tolerance. Artists, of course, were notoriously Hamletlike, and to this extent one must discount for one’s father, even if one loved him. But Jolyon’s original view that to “put your nose in where you weren’t wanted (as the Uit- landers had done), and then work the oracle till you got on top, was not being quite the clean potato,” had, whether founded in fact or no,a certain attraction for his son, who thought a deal about gentility. On the other hand, Jolly could not abide such as his set called “cranks,” and V:1!’s set called ‘‘smugs;” so that he was still balancing when Black Week came. One—two— three came those ominous repulses at Stormberg, Magersfontein, Colenso. The sturdy English soul, reacting after the first, cried: “Ah! But Methuen!” after the second: “Ah! But Buller!” then hardened, in inspissated gloom. And Jolly said to himself: “No—damn it! We’ve got to lick the beggars now; J don’t care whether we're right or wrong.” And, if he had known it, his father was thinking the same thought. ' That next Sunday, last of the term, Jolly was bidden to wine with “one of the best.” The second toast: “Buller and damna- tion to the Boers,” Jolly drank with the rest—no heel-taps—in the college Burgundy and a solemnity which merged suddenly into a long, defiant roar. But when he sat down, he neticed that Val Dartie, also a guest, was looking at him with a grin, and say- ing something to his neighbor. He was sure it was disparaging. The last boy in the world to make himself conspicuous or cause public disturbance, Jolly grew rather red and shut his lips. The queer hostility he had always felt toward his second cousin was strongly and suddenly reenforced. “All right!’ he said to him- self. ‘You wait, my friend!” He drank more than was good for him, as the custom was, which helped him to remember, when they all trooped out to a secluded spot, to touch Val on the arm. “What did you say aboui me in there?” Wine and atmosphere had also affected Val. “Mayn’t I say what I like?” “ No.” “Well, I said you were a pro-Boer, and so you are!” “You're a liar!” “D’you want a row?” “Of course,” said Jolly; “‘but not here—in the garden.” ¢

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“All right; come on They went, eying each other askance, unsteady and unflinch- ing; they climbed the garden railings. The spikes on the top, slightly ripping Val’s sleeve, occupied his mind. Jolly’s mind was engaged by the thought that they were going to fight in the pre- cincts of a college foreign to them both. It was not the thing, but never mind—the young beast! : They passed over the grass into very nearly darkness and took off their coats. “Vou’re not drunk, are you?” said Jolly suddenly. “I can’t fight you if you’re drunk.” “No more than you.” “ All right, then.” : Without shaking hands, they put themselves at once into pos- They staggered back from each other as a voice said, “Your names, young gentlemen?” 84 In Chancery tures of defense. They had drunk too much for science, and so were especially careful to assume correct attitudes until Jolly smote Val almost accidentally on the nose. After that, it was all a dark and ugly scrimmage in the deep shadow of the old trees, with no one to call, ‘Time!’ till, battered and blown, they un- clinched and staggered back from each other as a voice said, “Your names, young gentlemen?” At this bland query, spoken from under the lamp at the garden gate, like some demand of a god, their nerves gave way, and, snatching up their coats, they ran at the railings, shinned up them, and made for the secluded spot whence they had issued to the fight. Here, in dim light, they mopped their faces, and, without a word, walked, ten paces apart, to the ccllege gate. They went out silently—Val going toward the Broad along the Brewery, Jolly down the lane toward the High. His head, still fumed, was busy with regret that he had not displayed more science, passing in review the counters and knock-out blows which he had not delivered. His mind strayed on to an imagined combat, infinitely unlike that which he had just been through, infinitely gallant, with sash and sword, with thrust and parry, as if he were in the pages of his bekoved Dumas. He fancied himself Aramis, and Bussy, Chicot, and D’Artagnan rolled into «ne, but he quite failed to envisage Val as a romantic foeman. The fellow wag just a confounded cousin who didn’t come up to his standard, Never mind! He had given him one or two. “ Pro-Boer!” The word still rankled, and thoughts of enlisting jostled his aching head; of riding over the veld, firing gallantly while the Boers rolled over like rabbits. And, turning up his smarting eyes, he saw the stars shining between the housetops of the High, and himself lying out on the Karoo (whatever that was) rolled ina blanket, with his rifle ready and his gaze fixed on a glittering heaven. He had a fearful “head” next morning, which he de: tored, as became one of “the best,” by soaking it in cold water, brewing strong coffee which he could not drink, and only sipping a little hock at lunch. The legend that ‘‘some fool” had run into him round a corner accounted for a bruise on his cheek. He would on no account have mentioned the fight, for, on second thoughts, it fell far short of his standards. The next day he went “down,” and traveled through to Robin Hill. Nobody was there but June and Holly, for his father had gone to Paris. He spent a restless and unsettled vac, quite out of touch with either of his sisters. June, indeed, was occupied vith leme ducks whom, as a rule, Jolly could not stand, especially that Erie Cobbley and his family—“‘ hopeless out- siders,”” who were always littering up the house in the vacation. And be tween Holly and himself there wes @ strange division, as if she were beginning to have opinions of her own, which was so—unneces- sary. He punched viciously at a ball, rode furiously but alone in Richmond Park, making a point of jumping the stiff, high hurdles put up to close certain worn avenues of grass—keeping his nerve in, he called it. Jolly was more afraid of being afraid than most boys are. He bought a rifle, too, and put a range up in the home field, shooting across the pond, into the kitchen-garden wall, to the peril of gardeners, with the thought that, some day, perhaps, he would enlist and save South Africa for hiscountry. In fact, now that they were appeal- ing for Yeomanry recruits, the boy was thoroughly upset. Ought he to go? None of “the best,” so far as he knew—and he was in correspondence with several— were thinking of joining as yet. If they had been making a move, he would have gone at once—very competitive and with a strong sense of form, he could not bear to be left behind in anything; but to do it off his own bat might look like “swagger,” because, of course, it wasn’t really necessary- Besides, he did not want to go, for the other side of this young 3 4 | | g b

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In the glades bare of leaves Val and Holly would go off, side by side, not talking very much Forsyte recoiled from leaping before he looked. It was alto- gether mixed pickles in him, hot and sickly pickles. And he became quite unlike his serene and rather lordly self. And then, one day, he saw that which moved him to uneasy wrath—two riders in a glade of the park close to the Ham Gate, of whom she on the left hand was most assuredly Holly on her silver roan, and he on the right hand as assuredly that “squirt,” Val Dartie. His first impulse was to urge on his own horse and demand the meaning of this portent, tell the fellow to “bunk,” and take Holly home. His second, to feel that he would look a fool if they refused. He reined his horse in behind a tree, then perceived that it was equally impossible to spy on them. Noth- ing for it but to go home and await her coming. Sneaking out with that young bounder! He could not consult with June, because she had gone up that morning in the train of Eric oe and his lot. And his father was still in “that rotten aris, He felt that this was emphatically. one of those moments for which he had trained himself assiduously at school, where he and a boy called Brent had frequently set. fire to newspapers and and placed them in the center of their studies to accustom them to coolness in moments of danger. He did not feel at all ‘cool waiting in the stable-yard, idly stroking the dog Balthasar, who, queasy as an old fat monk, and sad in the absence of his master, turned up his face, panting with gratitude for this attention. It was half an hour before Holly came, flushed and ever.so much prettier than she had any right to look. He saw her look at him quickly—guiltily, of course; then followed her. in and, taking her arm, conducted her into what had been their grand- father’s study. The room, not much used now, was still vaguely haunted for them both by a presence with which they associated tenderness, large drooping white mustaches, the scent of cigar smoke, and laughter. Here Jolly, in the prime of his youth, be- fore he went to school at all, had been wont to wrestle —— his — vere é 3 ing he und na Ing ing tle im on ts, nut is, of , a * of t e

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86 grandfather, who, even at eighty-two, had an irresistible habit of crooking his leg. Here Holly, perched on the arm of the great leather chair, had stroked hair curv- ing silvery over an ear into which she would whisper secrets. Through that win- dow they had all three sallied times with- out number to cricket on the lawn, and a mysterious game called ‘“ wopsy-doozle,” not to be understood by outsiders, which made old Jolyon very hot. Here once, on a warm night, Holly had appeared in her “nighty,” having had a bad dream, to have the clutch of it released. And here Jolly, having begun the day badly by in- troducing fizzy magnesia into Mademoiselle Beauce’s new-laid egg and gone on to worse, had been sent down (in the absence of his father) to the ensuing dialogue: “Now, my boy, you mustn’t go on like this.” “Well, she boxed my ears, Gran; so I only boxed hers, and then she boxed mine ain.” “Strike a lady? That’ll never do! Have you begged her pardon?” “Not yet.” “Then you must go and do it at once. Come along!” “But she began it, Gran; and she had two to my one.” “My dear, it was‘an outrageous thing to do.” ““Well, she lost her temper; and I didn’t lose mine.” “Come along.” “You come, too, then, Gran.” “Well—this time only.” And they had gone hand in hand. Here—where the “Waverley” novels _and Byron’s works and Gibbon’s “Roman Empire” and Humboldt’s “Cosmos,” and the bronzes on the mantelpiece, and that masterpiece of the oily school, “Dutch Fishing-Boats at Sunset” were fixed as fate, and, for all sign of change, old Jolyon might have been sitting there still, with legs crossed, in the armchair, and domed forehead and deep eyes grave above the Times—here they came, those two grand- children. And Jolly said, “T saw you and that fellow in the park.” The sight of blood rushing into her cheeks gave him some satisfaction. She ought to be ashamed! “Well?” she said. Jolly was surprised; he had expected more—or less. “Do you know,” he said weightily, “that he called me a pro-Boer last term? And I had to fight him.” “Who won?” Jolly wished to answer, “I should have,” but it seemed be- neath him. “Look here!” he said. ‘“What’s the meaning of it? Without telling anybody?” “Why should I? him?” “You’ve got me to ride with,” said Jolly. awiul young rotter.” , Holly went pale with anger. * “He isn’t,” she said. “It’s your own fault for not liking im. staring at the bronze Venus sitting on a tortoise, which had been shielded from him so far by his sister’s dark head under her soft- felt riding-hat. He felt queerly disturbed, shaken to his young foundations. A lifelong domination lay shattered round his feet. He went up to the Venus and mechanically inspected the tortoise. Somehow, Holly’s words made him scrutinize him- self. Why didn’t he like Val Dartie? He could not tell. Igno- rant of family history, barely aware of that vague feud which had started thirteen years before with Bosinney’s defection from Dad isn’t here. Why shouldn’t I ride with “T think he’s an And, slipping past her brother, she went out, leaving him - Val did not sit down; he stood with hands thrust deep into his mind with double knocks, as of an angry June, knowing really almost nothing about Val, he was at sea. He just did dislike him. But what should hedo? That was the question. Val Dartie, it was true, was a second cousin, but it was not the thing for Holly to go about with him. And yet to “tell” of what he had chanced on was against his ereed. In this dilemma, he went and sat in the old leather chair and crossed his legs. It grew dark while he sat there, staring out through the long window at the old oak tree, ample yet bare of Jeaves, becoming slowly just a shape of deeper dark printed on the dusk. “Grandfather!” he thought, without sequence, and took out his watch. He could not see the hands, but he set the repeater going. ‘Five o’clock.” His grandfather’s first gold hunter- watch, butter-smooth with age—all the milling worn from it, and dented with the mark of many a fall. The chime was like a little voice from out of that golden age when they first came from St. John’s Wood, London, to this house—came driving with grandfather in his carriage, and almost instantly took to the trees. Trees to climb, and grandfather watering the geranium beds below! What was to be done? Tell dad he must come 3 a = 4 “<4 a ced * %

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L d ] breeches’ pocket hed and quivering. The full awfulness of this decision one way or the other knocked at his postman. “Take your time,” said Jolly again: “I don't want to be unfair” home? Confide in June? Only, she was so—so sudden. Do nothing, and trust toluck? After all, the vac would soon be over. Go up and see Val and warn him off? But how get his address? Holly wouldn’t give it him. A maze of paths, a cloud of possi- bilities! He lit a cigarette. When he had smoked it half-way through, his brow relaxed, almost as if some thin old hand had been passed gently over it; and in his ear something seemed to whisper: “Do nothing. Be nice to Holly; be nice to her, my dear!” He heaved a sigh of contentment, blowing smoke through his nostrils. But up in her room, divested of her habit, Holly was still frown- ing. “He is not—he is not!” were the words which kept forming in her heart. xX JOLYON IN TWO MINDS A LITTLE private hotel over a well-known restaurant near the Gare St. Lazare was Jolyon’s haunt in Paris. He hated his fel- low Forsytes abroad—vapid, as fish out of water, in their well- trodden runs, the Opera, Rue de Rivoli, and the Moulin Rouge. Their air of having come to get through to somewhere more con- genial annoyed him. But no other Forsyte came near this haunt, where he had a wood fire in his bedroom, and the coffee was excellent. Paris was always to him more delectable in winter. The acrid savor from wood-smoke and chestnut-roasting braziers, the sharpness of the wintry sunshine on bright days, the open cafés defying keen-aired winter, the self-contained, brisk boule- vard crowds all informed him that in winter Paris possessed a soul which, like a migrant bird, in summer flew away. He spoke French well, had some friends, knew little places where pleasant dishes could be met with, queer types observed. He felt philosophic in Paris, the edge of irony sharpened; life took on a subtle and purposeless meaning, became a bunch of flavors tasted, a darkness shot with shifting gleams of light. When, in the first week of December, he decided to go to Paris, he was far from admitting that Irene’s presence was influencing him. He had not been there two days before he owned that the wish to see her had been more than half the reason. In Eng- | x. e t 0

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88 In Chancery land, one did not admit what was natural. He had thought it might be well to see her about the letting of her flat and other matters, but in Paris the notion that this was all seemed comic. He would see her because it would be an intense pleasure; and over Paris was a glamour passing the usual. On the third day after his arrival, he wrote to her, and received an answer which sent a little shiver of pleasure through his nerves. My Dear Jotyon: It will be a happiness for me to see you. IRENE. He took his way to her hotel on a shivery bright day with a _ feeling such as he had often had going to visit an adored picture. No woman, so far as he remembered, had ever inspired in him this special sensuous and yet impersonal sensation. He was going to sit before her and feast his eyes, and come away knowing her no better, but ready to go and feast his eyes again to-morrow. Such was his feeling when, in the tarnished and ornate little lounge of her quiet hotel near the river, she came to him preceded by a diminutive page-boy, who uttered the word “Madame,” and vanished. Her face, her smile, the poise of her figure were just as he had pictured; the expression of her face said plainly, “A friend!” “Well,” he said, “what news, poor exile?” “None.” “Nothing from Soames?” “Nothing.” “T have let the flat for you, and, like a good steward, brought you some money. How do you like Paris?” While he put her through this catechism, he watched her lips. It seemed to him that he had never seen lips so fine and sensitive, the bow of the lower lip curving just a little upward, the upper touched at one corner by the least conceivable dimple. It was like discovering a woman in what had hitherto been a sort of soft and breathed-on statue almost impersonally admired. However did she manage going about alone? And, indeed, it seemed, from what she said, to bea little difficult; and yet, she confessed, Paris was so full of its own life that it was often as innocuous as a desert. Besides, of course, the English were not liked just now. “That will hardly be your case,” said Jolyon. “You should appeal to the French.” The lips smiled. “That has its disadvantages.” “Well, you must let me take you about while I’m here. We'll start to-morrow. Come and dine at my pet restaurant; and we'll go to the Opéra Comique.” It was the beginning of daily meetings. Jolyon soon found that Paris is at once the first and last place in which to be friendly with a pretty woman. And very soon revelation alighted like a bird in his heart, singing: ‘‘ Elle est ton réve! Elle est ton réve!”” Sometimes this seemed natural, some- times ludicrous—a bad case of elderly rapture. Those who have once been ostracized by society never again have any real regard for conventional morality; but the idea of a love which she could never return—how could she, at his age?—did not mount beyond subconsciousness. He was full, too, of resentment, at the waste and loneliness of her life. Being some comfort to her— let him not destroy that! He consoled himself with the pleasure she so clearly took in their many little outings. It was like watching a starved plant draw up water to see her drink in his companionship. No one knew her address except himself; she was unknown in Paris and he but little known; so discretion seemed unnecessary in their walks, talks, visits to concerts, pic- ture-galleries, theaters, their little dinners, expeditions to Ver- sailles, St. Cloud, even Fontainebleau. And time fled—one of those full months without past to it or future. What in his youth would have been headlong passion was now perhaps as deep a feeling, but gentler, tempered to protective companionship by admiration, hopelessness, and a sense of chiv- alry—arrested in his veins, at least so long as she was there, smiling and happy in their friendship, and always to him more beautiful and spiritually responsive. Her philosophy of life marched with his own—conditioned by emotion more than by reason, ironically mistrustful, susceptible to beauty, almost passionately humane and tolerant, yet subject to instinctive rigidities of which, as a man, he was not capable. And, during all this month of companionship, he never quite lost that feeling with which he had set out on the first day as if to visit an adored work of art, a desire for her presence well-nigh impersonal. The future—inexorable pendant to the present—he took care not to face, for fear of breaking up his untroubled manner; but he made plans to renew this time in places still more delightful, where the sun was hot and there were stranger things to see and paint. The end came swiftly on the twentieth of January with a tele- gram: Have enlisted in Imperial Yeomanry. Jotty. Jolyon received it as he was setting out to meet her at the Louvre. It brought him up with a round turn. While he was lotus-eating here, his boy, whose philosopher and guide he ought to be, had taken this great step toward danger, hardship, perhaps even death. He felt disturbed to the soul; for only now did he realize how Irene had twined herself round the roots of his being. Threatened with severance, the tie between them—for it had become a kind of tie—no longer had impersonal quality. The tranquil enjoyment of things in common, Jolyon perceived, was gone forever. He saw his feeling now as it was, in the nature of an infatuation—ridiculous, perhaps, but desperately real, which, soon or late, must come to a disclosure. He could not, must not make any such disclosure. This message from Jolly stood inexorably in the way. He was proud of this enlistment, proud of his boy for going off to fight for the country; for on Jolyon, too, Black Week had left its mark. And so the end was reached before the beginning! Well, luckily, he had never made a sign. When he came into the gallery, she was standing before the‘‘Vir- gin of the Rocks,” graceful, absorbed, smiling, and unconscious. “Have I to give up seeing that?” he thought. “It’s unnatural, so long as she’s willing that I should see her.” He stood, un- noticed, watching her, storing up the image of her figure, envying . the picture on which she was bending that long scrutiny. Twice she turned her head toward the entrance, and he thought, “‘ That’s for me!” At last, he went forward. “Look!” he said. She read the telegram, and he heard her sigh. That, too, was for him! The cruelty of his position! To be loyal to his son, he must just shake her hand and go. To be loyal to the feeling in his heart, he must at least tell her what that feeling was. Did she understand the silence in which he was gazing at that picture? “T’m afraid I must go home at once,” he said, at last. “I shall tniss all this awfully.” “So shall I; but of course you must go.” - “Well?” said Jolyon, holding out his hand. He m et her eyes for a moment, and a flood of feeling nearly mastered him. “Such is life,” he said. “Take care of yourself, my dear.” He had a stumbling sensation in his legs and feet, as if his brain refused to steer him away from her. He looked back from the doorway, and saw her lift her hand and touch its fingers with her lips. He raised his hat solemnly, and did not look back again. XXI DARTIE VERSUS DARTIE THE suit—Dartie versus Dartie—for restitution of those conjugal rights concerning which Winifred was at heart so deeply undecided, followed the laws of subtraction toward day of judgment. This was not reached before the courts rose for Christmas, but the case was third on the list when they sat again. Winifred spent the Christmas holidays a thought more fashion- ably than usual, with the matter locked up in her low-cut bosom. James was particularly liberal to her that Christmas, expressing thereby his sympathy, and relief at the approaching dissolution of her marriage with that “precious rascal” which his old heart felt but his old lips could not utter. The disappearance of Dartie made the fall in consols a com- paratively small matter; and as to the scandal, the real animus he felt against that fellow, and the increasing lead which property was attaining over reputation in the soul of a true Forsyte about to leave this world, served to drug a mind from which all allu- sions to the matter (except his own) were carefully kept. What worried him as a lawyer and a parent was the fear that Dartie might suddenly turn up-and obey the order of the court when made. There would be a pretty how-de-do! The fear preyed on him, in fact, so much that, in making Winifred that most liberal Christmas present, he said, ‘‘It’s for that chap out there —to keep him from coming back.” It was, of course, to pitch away good money, but all in the nature of insurance against that bankruptcy which would no longer hang over him if only the divorce went through. He questioned Winifred rigorously until (Continued on page 163) fr th: ess ob bir th ec to m t co h tl t li a a a

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“You said—the message said—that he was dying; y so I came at once. When shall I see him?” T will take some years yet wholly to transform the Palazzo Rinaldi into the Wheeler Palace; it is as though the great stone house clung to its somker memories. Five snow-and- silver bathrooms, electric light that eats the bloom of the frescoes, and telephones which lurk like eavesdroppers in rooms that were built to shut out the world—these are part of the proc- ess; and to them is added all the gloom-dispelling, memory- obliterating modernity of Mrs. Julius Wheeler and her daughters, birds of paradise afit and aglitter in a bat-roost, affronting with their lightness the grave chambers whose vaulted ceilings have echoed so little laughter. But the quality of the house dies hard. It is as though the place were conscious of itself. The very tourists are aware, upon those stated days when they are ad- mitted to the picture-gallery, of the atmosphere which is about them. At the door of the first of the great rooms which constitute the gallery, the cicerone, black-clad, bearing in his hand the slender staff which serves him for a pointer, meets them—a figure of an old man in whom the spirit that breathes in the place seems incarnate. “Rinaldo Rinaldi,” he says, pausing before the first of the portraits. He adds a fifteenth-century date. “By Reni. And this is his son.” The tourists flutter the pages of their guide-books. It is not two minutes since they turned in from the sunlight and the strong life of the streets, but commonly the character of the house has already subdued them. Abashed and respectful, they follow their guide with footsteps that strive to be noiseless, identifying anxiously the canvases upon which long-dead nonenities— assassins, robbers, and intriguers—served as the lay-figures T he A A story of two worlds By Perceval Gibbon Illustrated by Fortunino Matania upon which great painters have draped the cloak of their own immortality. The old cicerone has the names of them all, and here and there a scrap of history to add to the bare dates. It isin no sense a nar- rative; if in that succession of paltry and evil lives he per- ceives anything coherent and continuous, he keeps it to himself, leaving the painted faces of the long Rinaldi line to tell their own story. “The late prince!” he an- nounces finally, when his little herd of followers, growing at each step more abject and depressed, have reached the last of the three long saloons. “And the present prince— isn’t he here, too?” inquires somebody. The ancient man shakes his head. “This is now the palazzo of the Signora Veelair,” he _ replies, always in that same dead level of voice. ‘“‘She has bought it, and the prince”—he succeeds with a shrug at last—‘‘he is in America.” Once only, so far as one knows, there came a tourist who showed contumacy to the hush and op- pression of the place and the hyp- notizing stare of the painted faces. That was in the days when the Rinaldi yet lived in his own palace, and his portrait was new on the wall. It was a young man, with a smooth skin evenly sun-tanned, and a wisp of black mustache upon his lip. He brought no guide-book, but looked with attention at the pictures. It was not till they reached the Jast that he spoke. ‘A striking thing, isn’t it?” some one said then. The young man was staring at it intently. He roused at the question. “My God!” he said. “Down-hill all the way—down-hill to that!” He made a gesture toward the portrait. “Think where a couple more generations would land them!” The others stared at him; only the guide commenced an in- dignant “Signor!” But he stopped at that, and stood gazing at the young man with old eyes infinitely shrewd and cautious. “Oh!” The young man reddened and turned away. “Curse the Rinaldi!” he said, and walked off. He left behind tim a group scandalized and bewildered. But ere he passed from sight, the old guide called after him. “A rivederld, signor!” he piped. “Till I see your Excellency again!” Upon that night when the prince prepared to bring to an end his tedious and lengthy business of dying, the candles were alight at one end of the Jong table in the dining-room, making a little sanctuary of soft radiance in the shadow of the place. At the table’s end, his back to the great mausoleum-like fireplace, sat Piero Rinaldi, the elder of the prince’s two nephews, a lean, delib- erate man of something short of thirty vears of age, shewmeg, to = = < lige? 4 44 All | aay € * | BY —, =.

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90 The Abdication the light of the candles, a face in which pincled Rinaldi features were composed to a still and bleak complacency. At his left hand there sat, an elbow upon the white cloth, kis florid young face propped in his hand, his younger brother, Giulio. Though none was in the big room beside themselves, they talked in low tones. “She should be here by now,” said Piero. she did not come sooner.” Giulio shifted with a small motion as of impatience. He was a bulky youth, whose general facial resemb]ance to his brother was blurred by a sort of dull massiveness of contour. He wore the dark undress uniform of a lieutenant of cavalry. “What are you going to call her?” he asked. “‘ Princess?’ Or just ‘Signora?’” Piero tapped the ash from his cigarette into his coffee-cup. “She has never used the title, I believe,” he answered. ‘That is something; and it is possible that she may still see the unfit- ness of it. After all—a contadina, a peasant almost; it should not be difficult to deal with her.” “Hm,” said Giulio. ‘But those peasants are pretty shrewd asarule. And then, there’s still the son.” “Ves,” Piero agreed; ‘that is the real affair—the son. An American, practically—a sort of builder, I understand. And all this”—he made a gesture that gathered in the great stately room, —all this, the house, the name, the rank, everything that the Rinaldis are and may be, to fall straight into his stupid hands. I could curse that man dying there up-stais, at his ease, and leaving us to this.” Giulio grunted. “Curse him by all means,” he said. “It’s all you can do.” “All!” exclaimed Piero. “At least, we can——” He paused. At the further end of the room, one wing of the double doors had opened, and a man servant in the livery of the house came forward. “Well?”’ demanded Piero. _ The man advanced into the candle-light and stopped at his “Tt is well that side. “Excellency,” he said, whispering loudly, “the lady is here.’ “Ah!” Piero nodded. “T met her as your Excellency directed,” the man went on, still in that conspirator’s whisper. “She is waiting now in the little salon. She is very” —he hesitated and smirked meaningly —“very manageable, your Excellency.” “What do you mean—‘manageable?’” demanded Giulio. “And what are you whispering like that for?” “Hush!” Piero interposed. “He is right to be careful, Giulio. But”—he turned to the man—“‘ you mean——” “Yes, your Excellency.” The creature writhed nearer. “A very simple, easy lady, sir. Her baggage—just a little old leather bag that she carries herself. And’’—he grinned familiarly —she calls me ‘Signor.’”’ Piero smiled thoughtfully. “Good!” he said. ‘Well, I think we’d better see her here, Giulio, eh? For a beginning—instead of going in to her?”’ He did not wait for a reply, but turned to the servant. “Show the lady in here,” he ordered. ‘‘And shut the door behind her.” “ At once, Excellency,” said the man, and departed. “Tt is a good beginning,” said Piero. “No need to call her ‘Princess,’ you see. Oh, I have hopes yet—plenty of hopes.” Giulio grunted again and shrugged. It was a minute later that the servant at the door announced, “The signora, your Excellency.” Both of them rose to their feet. The woman who entered did not advance toward them, but stood as though in embarrassment as the tall door closed behind her. From where they waited, the brothers couJd only see that she was tall—a large woman clad in a long cloak, witha wide-brimmed hat. Piero pulled out a chair on his right hand. “Will you not come and sit down, signora?” he asked across the length of the room. Thus invited, she came forward to the light and they could see. Piero, watching her keenly, smiled inwardly at what he beheld, and his eye turned for an instant to Giulio’s sullen face. It was what he had said—a contadina, or, at most, a good and prosperous farm-wife, bearing in her every aspect the impress of her life and surroundings. Her cloak, falling in long, austere lines from her shoulders to her ankles, was such as the women of Lombardy wear to market and to church; where it hung open in front, it revealed her hands clasped before her, large and capable hands, berry-brown and thick-fingered. Her face, below the brim of her hat of black straw, was brown, too, evenly stained by those suns that ripen the vines and the olives upon the fields of the great plain of north Italy. She did not smile; she looked at them both with a still and serene face which Piero, observing busily, put down to mere awkwardness of manner. It was not in him to note the fine poise of her as she moved, or the strength and dignity of her composure, the directness and simplicity of her bearing, She murmured some word of thanks and sat in the chair he had indicated, looking first at him, calmly, and then at Giulio. “You have had a good journey, I hope,”’ said Piero. He was at pains to be suave with that suavity which is the embalmed corpse of courtesy. He had remained standing when she sat down and had moved back a little, so that the sides of the great fireplace and the vast mantel were a frame to him. In his evening clothes, with his leanness and his six feet of stature, he was decorative, a complement to the ornament of the room; and he had the air and the effect of a host at home in his own house. He was a man who was accustomed to stage-manage his efforts, and he believed he did it well. But the woman showed no sense of it. “You said—the message said—that he was dying; so I came at once. When shall I see him?” ““Well’’—she was really rather baffling; Piero considered her carefully—“ the doctors will choose a good moment for that,” hesaid. “There isa danger with the heart, youknow. But—you wish to see him, do you?” “No,” she replied; “‘I do not wish to see him. But, since he is dying——” She spoke simply, without emphasis, but with a sincerity that was patent. She had come to do her duty according to her clear and cast-iron code, and would not be turned aside from it. And this, after all, was Princess Rinaldi, the wife of the man who was dying in his bed up-stairs. “Your son is in America still?” Piero questioned. “He will be here next week,” she answered. “I sent hima message by cable, andI have the answer. But he does not desire to see his father. He has never seen him.” “Oh!” said Piero, a little blankly. There was a taste of pride about this, and with it a suggestion of indifference to Rinaldi susceptibilities that galled him. Every conscious aristocrat is an idolator. For Piero, lacking strength, wealth, wit, and ambition, the house of Rinaldi, its eminence, its title to reverence and privi- lege, its claims upon the esteem and service of mankind at large were more than a religion; they were the postulates of all life. “‘T—I will see what the doctors say,”’ he said, and left the room. There must have been a time when the Rinaldi—he who was spinning out his dying as though he found pleasure in it instead of terror—had been capable of a warm impulse and’a clean de- sire; he outgrew them both, but, meanwhile, the woman sitting statuesque in the candle-light beside the long table was a proof ofit. There had been a love-affair in the orchards about Mantua, a student from the university and a farmer’s daughter meeting where the vines are strung like a lace of green between the fruit- trees, and the hemp-pools are moon-mirrors crazy with light. All that was needful for romance had been there—the young man’s unapproachable family, the suspicious hostility of the girl’s father, the secret sympathy of her mother, stolen meetings in the fields, and, at last, an elopement to Milan, and marriage—made as firmly and indissolubly as if the parents of both had been present with their assent and their blessing. It needed just five months for the marriage to turn stale. At the end of that time, with her marriage certificate and her wed- ding-ring and very little else in the world, the wife returned to her father’s farm. Already in those days she had that strong serenity which discountenanced Piero; she bore home with her a high head and eyes the wiser for all they had seen but none the less tranquil. She never moved to assert her wifehood or to establish her right over the man who had married her. He became, in course of time, head of his house and forefront of his rotting and degenerate line, a prince and a rich man by inheritance; she set her life to the tune of the farm and its inhabitants, serene, strong, impregnable in her content and that high pride of hers. Her son, after the normal years of school, found him employment upon the canals which stripe those plains and after- ward emigrated to America. It had been reported that he had become an American citizen and was prospering. In the chamber to which Piero presently came, the Prince Rinaldi lay among his pillows, very busy with his dying. It was a large room, nearly as big as the dining-room he had just left; but here were no shadows—none of that sober gloom with which all in the house except the dying man awaited the coming of his death. A score of lights stood about upon the tables and

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Prince Rinaldi heaved his disease-wrecked body up. “Emilia! Help—me! They're—killing me!” repeated themselves in the mirrors. The air was heavy with their heat; they gave the room, with allits apparatus of old-fashioned luxury, a look of forced and hectic festivity, like a tawdry illumination. The prince had come to fear the dark of late. A weary nun sat patiently in a chair against the wall, her face white against the hue of her habit. The doctor, trim as a fashion- plate, gray-bearded, with lively eyes magnified by his glasses, was just leaving the bedside as Piero entered. . a “To keep as still and as quiet as possible—that is good,” Piero a heard him conclude. “These lights, too—not much air in here.” i Across his black-coated shoulder, Piero could see the face of the sick man and hear the feeble voice that answered, im to — >= chai | | a ouse. 1 +} San \ | ion, ~ \ ead de- ing oof ua, ing it- ht. ng iS 4 \ rl’s \ he \ as \ nt \ At er ty ad il. er se d he le, lf T- id aS t; h is d 91

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92 The Abdication “T must have the lights.” The doctor nodded to Piero and crossed the room to speak tothe nun. Piero went to the bedside. From the pillows that upheld him in a half-sitting posture, the face of his uncle looked up into his own. When the portrait which hangs in Mrs. Wheeler’s gallery was painted, the prince had yet the dregs of manhood alive in him; but the face in the bed was as if some inhuman vivisector had gone to work to strip from it all that hid or mitigated the paltriness of the spirit within. The eyes, large under the hollows of the brow, were slavish and fearful; he was dying as he had lived—without dignity or grace. “Piero!” The voice was reedy and thin. “Ves, zio mio?” Piero, bland, soothing, comforting, leaned above him, staring at the terrible face for news of the hovering death. “She—she—” The sick man’s mouth twitched, and it was a space of moments before he could articulate. His eyes were awful in their cowardice and their appeal. “‘She—has not come, Piero?”’ - It was of his wife he spoke. It was at his insistence, in his death-bed mood of repentance, that the word had gone north which brought her to Rome. ‘Because, Piero”—the words fluttered from him—‘“‘because—I must make amends— amends, Piero. She must come to this house; she must be —recognized, Piero. Principessa Rinalci—yes, Piero.” Piero was wondering at the moment how Giulio was comport- ing himself with the tall, calm woman below. But his face was kind and patient and attentive as he listened to the sick man and as he replied. “No, my uncle,” he said; “she has not yet come. was met, but she was not there.” Recognized! Principessa Rinaldi—that cloaked, unsmiling peasant! Not while a Rinaldi could mask a chill heart with a straight face or his tongue shape itself to a lie. The sick man stared at him stagnantly. “‘She—she will come,” he stammered. her strong hands; she will come.” “Beyond a doubt, my uncle,” agreed Piero readily. ‘ Assur- edly she will come, and I will bring her to you.” The prince drooped his heavy lids upon his staring eyes. “Ves,” he said. “Yes; you will bring her, Piero.” Piero gave to the nun his little courteous nod as he passed out. He saw his path clear. The peasant woman’s relation to the family should not be explained to her by a sick and frightened man, ready for any sacrifice to ease the ache in his lost and sore soul. He came at his customary, deliberate gait and with his conscious dignity of bearing into the dining-room. The woman had not moved; she sat where he had left her, the long cloak, with the heavy folds of sculptured drapery, falling about her. Giulio had resumed his seat at the table and taken a cigarette. He looked as though he had attempted conversation with her and failed, for he sat now staring at her with a worried pucker of brow. She looked up as Piero entered; he answered her look as if it had been a spoken question. “He is not worse,” he said. “Certainly not worse; but there is need to keep him very quiet. The heart, you know. The slightest emotion may be dangerous.” She heard him gravely. “T am not to see him?” she queried. “‘To-night?”’ Piero pursed his lips. ‘To-morrow will be better, I think. But to-night—” He shook his head. She rose at once, drawing to her fine full height in a single movement. The mere dignity of her was a little disturbing; there was in her acquiescence something so soberly strong. “Ring that bell, Giulio,” said Piero. Then, to the woman: “You will be glad to rest—yes? The man will take you now to the housekeeper, who will show you your room and do all that you desire. You will please ask her for anything you require.” “T thank you,” she answered. At the double doors, the sleek footman waited. She moved down the long room with her easy, quiet stride and disappeared. The door closed behind as the footman drew it outward. “Well,” said Piero, “the affair is on its way. You see—it only needed approaching from the right direction, after all. That poor lady will never dare to be a Principessa Rinaldi.” “Is she going to see the prince?” Giulio asked. Piero nodded. “Oh, yes,” he said carelessly. ‘‘To-morrow.” He smiled suddenly, with a flash of genuine mirth that transfigured the pretentiousness and ineffectuality of his face. For an instant, he was real and formidable. and Giulio stared at him. “ Yes; The train ““Emilia—I remember _ to-morrow she shall see him,” he repeated, “‘what’s left of him.” “Vou think to- “Eh?” Giulio’s thickish lips parted. night “Hush!” Piero held up a hand. “We hope for the best..” But it was not till the spring dawn came, feeling its way over the roofs of Rome, flowing like a tide of light and fragrance that poured among the hills of the city, that the hopes of Piero bore fruit. The unsleeping nun at her post in the sick-room sent the news abroad; there was a hurrying of feet in the long corridors where all had gone in such stillness; a messenger went running through the early-morning spaces of the streets to summon the doctor. In the prince’s room, Piero, strangely gorgeous in a silk dressing-gown, stood at the foot of the bed and watched the nun as she strove to spur the flagging life that beat feebly and more feebly under her ministering hands. Giulio, half dressed, stood in a corner by the door, yellow and sick-looking; a couple of di- sheveled servants stared in from the anteroom. And all went on in a blaze of light and a reek of candle smoke as the flames stag- gered in the draft from the open doors. If there were yet consciousness in the prince, it was merely the consciousness of one who suffers and is passive. The face among the pillows was still; it had the look of a countenance sunk in utter abstraction. The eyes yet stared sluggishly, but the fear and the wildness were gone from them. Piero watched it intently; the moment upon which he had counted was at hand. So that, save for the man on the bed, he was the last of those who were present to see the entry of the dying man’s wife as, wrapped in her cloak, tall, grave, unperturbed, she came in at the open door from the corridor. She moved toward the bedside, and so came within Piero’s scope of vision. So noiselessly did she tread upon the parquet that, for a moment, the apparition of her, so tall and still and black, startled him horribly, and he uttered a sharp exclamation. She turned her head to him. ‘They did not tell me,” she said, in low tones. *‘I heard. Is it the end?” “*You can’t come here—”’ he began, in an automatic fluster of authority. Then his wits returned to him, and he looked with swift, estimating glances from her to the face on the pillows and back again. The prince seemed to be staring directly at her, and —was it his fancy or was there a faint flush of stronger life in his face? Piero spoke deliberately. ‘But you had better remain where he can see you. He might recognize you for a moment.” So she remained, erect and motionless. The nun, having done all that was possible to her, moved back, and the pair confronted each other. The great room was very still now; only occasionally there came from Giulio a noise like subdued whispering as he swore at the scene and its characters. Then, the thing for which Piero had set his stage began to happen. It was as if an unsteady pulse, the hesitating to-and-fro beat of the reluctant life stirred in the face on the pillows. Like a light shining and passing upon dark water, the wide eyes took on apprehension and sense. Piero clenched his fists to save himself from a motion of triumph. Of a sudden, the face that had been dead was alive; the corpse was staring at the woman, and recognition lighted in the ruined countenance. Prince Rinaldi heaved his disease-wrecked body up. “Emilia!” It might have been a cry wrenched out on the rack. ‘‘Help—me! They’re—killing me. Emili-a!” It looked as though, upon that last sound, he had begun to lean aside to prop himself upon an elbow in his bed. But Piero knew better. As the body subsided and the nun rushed forward, be took the tall woman gently, almost fraternally, by the arm. “‘T feared it,’”’ he said. ‘‘It was too soon. But do not distress yourself. He has told me his last wishes.” She disengaged her arm with a slow easy movement. “Ves,” she said. ‘‘I do not know his wishes, but I will kneel here for a while.” Piero bowed; he bowed well, he knew. His attitude and his appearance were not less skilful when, upon the due day, he drove with Giulio to meet the new heir, the American citizen, at the station. But they were less success- ful than they deserved to be. The train came roaring in to find the pair of them waiting just where the wagon-lits deposited its freight of assorted souls; the station boiled about them on its diversity of business, and presently the throng dissolved and they had discovered no one whom they could identify as the new Prince Rinaldi. “You and your plots:” Giulio snarled. ‘‘Why couldn’t we have brought the old woman, as I suggested? She’d have known her own son by sight, wouldn’t she?” (Continued on page 152) \

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< “Well, are you recovering from the Big Fuss?" asked the cheezy Lad from the U. S. A. The Fable of the Cousins Who Got Together Much and Plenty A slang classic by George Ade T was soon after the Horrors of Peace succeeded the Glories of War that a Yank went on a Party-Call to the little Island of which Lloyd George is Robinson Crusoe. He was one of our Kith and Kin. He was There with the Nasal Accent, the word “Guess,” the Appetite for Pie, and all other Impedimenta. Having absorbed the Ballyhoo in the Editorial Ravings, he was expecting to be Glad-Handed all over the Shop. The English-Speaking Peoples had a Common Destiny. Nearly everything else was in Hock, but Common Destiny was still doing Business at the Old Corner. The Anglo-Saxons had become so chummy that you couldn’t throw a Brick at a British Subject without breaking an Ameri- can’s Arm. The Wounds of Bunker Hill and 1812 had been healed up and dusted with Talcum Powder. George and Mary slept under the American Flag every night and had substituted Buckwheats for Muffins. Therefore the Yank felt himself palpitating as he neared the Home of his socially unimportant Forefathers. He figured that landing at Southampton would be a good deal like getting back to Tuscola for Old-Home Week. Had not America leaped nimbly into the Fray and saved the Decision? Had not America been the Loud Noise, the Fanfare, and the glittering Third-Act Finale in the recent and much-to-be- regretted War? It sure had. He could prove it by the Congress- man from his District. “ Because of some slip-up, the Reception Committee which should have been lined up at the Dock to Pin something on him was not in Evidence. Therefore our Emissary from the Land of the Ex-Free had no chance to receive the Kiss on each Cheek until he found Illustrated by John T. McCutcheon himself locked in a 2x4 Railway Compartment with One who looked as if he might be a Cyril or possibly a Geoffrey or per- chance a Cuthbert. ; The British Relative had Walrus Mustaches, a Mackerel Eye, a vague suggestion of inherited Adenoids, and all of the Baggage-Racks. As for the Glance which he bestowed upon the intruding Transatlantic Bounder, it was quite Arctic and altogether devoid of Bonhomie. It would have slowed up anyone but a gurgling Optimist residing west of New Jersey. The Aloofness never feazed our Small-Town Slicker. He had read that Great Britain had become a real Democracy, and his Idea of being Democratic was to tell the Story of his Life to any Stranger who could spare 20 Minutes. Whereas the Englishman feels almost Proletarian if he nods to some Chap who has been a fellow Club-Member for 30 years. “Well, are you recovering from the Big Fuss?” asked the cheery Lad from the U. S. A. The Assaulted Party slowly regained his Composure and then replied, with icy Deliberation: ‘It is very difficult to Recover that which has been seized upon by your enterprising Countrymen. We are beginning to realize that the Jate Catacylsm was merely a Benefit Perform- ance. We acquired the Casualty Lists while you were assembling the Promissory Notes.” “All that we know about the Banking Business we learned from the Scotch Immigrant,” suggested the Yank. “When you were up against it, or, to make it more rhetorical, Stony Broke and we went Fifty-Fifty, your Manner toward us was somewhat more Confectionery.” “For every Dollar slipped into our Kick, some Aristocrat connected with the Bank of England gave up his Right Eye, “ =), Sz]. = iy = 7

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94 The Fable of the Cousins Who Got ‘Together was the Comeback. “Tf we had accepted your Philanthropy for another vear, the good old Pound Sterling would now approximate in Value a plugged Ha’penny.” “How do you get that Way?” asked Our Countryman, with biting Sarcasm. “What is the Idea in cartooning Uncle Sam as a Pawn- broker when it is well known on Our Side of the Water that he was the snappy-eyed Hero who rescued the Maiden in the Sixth Reel and held her in his Arms on the Fade-Away?” “Give over! Hush-a-bye! Flee as a Bird to the Moun- tain! Discontinue the blithering Rot! The most disinterested Commission in the World could take one Feel of your feverish Filbert and bring in a Verdict of ‘Balmy.’ I give you my Word and Honor as a Member of the Middlesex Harriers that I have read all of the Official Reports written by the most distinguished-looking Officers ever exhibited in the Cinema Parlours, and I can receive no definite Assurance that any of your People were present during the final Period. I note an occasional Mention of the French, but I am forced to the Conclusion that the handful of American Amateurs who had straggled into the Zone of Conflict must have been back at the Recreation Huts sending out Picture Post-Cards.” The Envoy from the New World was perceptibly Groggy. The Counter-Blow had slipped through his Guard and connected with the Beezer before he could get Set. So he began to Spar for Time. “JT will admit,” he said, “I will admit that we remained under the Bed a long time before doing the Gladiator Stunt. While we were under there, we kept on singing Battle-Hymns and telling what we might do if we decided to crawl out, and yet, regarding the Performance in Retrospect, Candor compels the “We are beginning to realize that the late Cataclysm was merely a Benefit Performance. We acquired the Casualty Lists while you were assembling the Promissory Notes’”’ Confession that the Posture of one crouched under a Mattress must not be classified as Mar- tial. But I under- stood from the Home Paper that the whole World regarded us as Hellions the mo- ment we began to put on our Uniforms. Anything that Persh says goes with me. It goes, unless he de- cides to run for Of- fice. I gathered from his Letter to Wash- ington that the whole Works would have gone Blah ex- cept for the Dare- devil Heroism of our gallant Farm-Hands. The War, as we size it, began to wind up as soon as our Boys spit on their Hands. In their headlong Rush toward the Enemy, they pushed aside Anzacs, Algerians, Canucks, Horse-Guards, Dragoons, Poilus, and Baby Tanks, and impected themselves against the Adversary like a Ton of Gravel dropped on a Bed of Nasturtiums. A few moments later, the Huns had been rassled into Ham- burgers. It was all over except picking up the Helmets. And then, when we sit down in the Cool of the Evening to gloat over the Triumph of the Home Team, we learn from the Sporting Editors of London that the Game was on Ice before our Players put on their spiked Shoes. Is it any wonder that the Mystic Ties of Racial Affinity once more begin to curl into Hard Knots? How can we Kiss and Make Up when the Hand-Clasp is so flabby and is accompanied by a Kick on the Shin? Are you be- ginning to understand why the emotional Chump who, just two years ago, stood up at the Movies and whistled when the Union Jack unfurled itself, is now surreptitiously feeding a little Coin to the Sinn Fein Republic?” The British Calm was not disturbed by these brash Queries. It:simply became more pervading, ominous, and foreboding. The Reply, when it came, was a nasty Facer. It was handed out with an Air of Finality. “The Entente would not be subjected to MewTcHEON— “g am forced to the Conclusion that the handful of American Amateurs who had straggled into the Zone of Conflict must have been back at the Recreation Huts sending out Picture Post-Cards” these frequent Strains,” said the Briton, “‘if the mercurial Inhabitants of your Plains and Forests had any Sense of Proportion. Sus- picion maintains a full Ratio with vertiginous Misinformation. Every Program is so fes- tooned with Red, White, & Blue Bunting that you can’t see the Framework and detect the Faults of Construction. Your groping Intelligence harbors the childish Delusion that, when something Important is to be accomplished, the most needful Preliminary is to get up on the Hind Legs and Howl. Because we are amused by your Vocalists who wear the Soft Hats and are unresponsive to mere Atmospheric Disturbance, we may seem, at times, possibly, as it were, to lack that reckless Spirit of Companionship which might induce three Travelers, unhappily arrived at an overcrowded Hostelry, to oc- cupy one and the same Bed.” “The kind of Ice in which you are now packing me,” said the Visitor, “is exactly the Variety which blighted all the new Ten- drils on that Sensitive Plant known as the Anglo-American Alliance. I’ll be dosh-burned if one of you Toast and Marmalade Hounds can talk about our Proud Domain for five Minutes without making it appear that we are still occupying the Wigwams vacated by the fleeing Aborigines. The first Plank in \ | | bea

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“We sent over a Ship-Load of College Professors, Chiro- practors, Clairvoyants, and Masseurs, not one of whom had ever been farther away from home than Omaha” your Platform is that the Earth’s Surface is divided into British Empire and Utter Darkness. A deeply anchored Belief that you are the Goods seems to be the only National Asset not bunged-up by the Run-In with Germany. We have tried at times since 1914 to put a Laurel Wreath on your Brow, but we never could find room for Another. The space was already occupied by Laurel Wreaths presented by Yourself to You. Even during the present gloomy Period—the World smothered under Tissue- Paper Money and Bankruptcy squatted, like a Spook, at the background of every Responsibility—you have reversed your Cuffs, put on a fresh Dickey, cleaned up the old Gloves with Gasoline, and maintained a sort of: Front. Even while walking on the Spats below, the old Monocle was still in Place. A true Gentleman is one who continues to wear Evening Clothes after he has run out of Underclothes. I can begin to perceive that British Pride has not been perceptibly warped by the successive Ordeals.” “While you were corralling the Jack, we were pushing our Family Jewels to the Center of the Table,” said the removed Cousin. ‘Now that we have come upon Evil Days, your Ex- pressions of Sympathy for us somehow have a faint nd hollow Sound. You say you are sorry for us, but your Good Cheer is unabated and you continue to count your Dollars.” “There you go!” exclaimed the Yank. “I knew that you’d revert to the origina) Wheeze. Like as not, every one-armed Buddy back home is still classified over here as a pusillanimous Profiteer. You think we’re Money-Mad. Asa matter of fact, we go Nuts over a good many Things, but Money is the least of our Brain-Storms. Money is a mere Vestibule to Sedan Cars, Ouija Boards, Strawberries out of Season, and Persian Rugs. With us, the Picking has been so Soft that Expense Accounts are a trivial Side Issue. Getting hold of Mazume is like shoot- ing Fish ina Barrel. Nowadays, any Dub can sit pretty and ride on the High. Those who get Rhino from the Pump are expected to splash it. Currency has degenerated into a Lubri- cant for numerous wild-eyed Activities which have come upon the Stage as Substitutes for the old Hootch, or J.B. Leave me tell you why your Dope is so punk, if you follow me. In the year 1810, a Report was circulated in London that the Typical Yankee lived in Connecticut, manufactured Wooden Nutmegs, was a Tight-Wad and Double-Crosser, and was George Ade’ 95 kept alive by a passionate Yearning for Illicit Gains. At present, the typical Citizen lives in Seattle or San Antonio, and has his hand in his Pocket nine-tenths of the time, but he is, when judged at Long Range, still the Victim of a fossilized Tradition. Money seems to annoy him. He doesn’t want it around. If he finds a Mess of it piled in front of him, he tries to get rid of it in a Jiff. He goes on an Orgy of Silk Shirts, Perfumery, and Brazilian Diamonds. What does Bessie, the Sewing- Machine Girl, do with her first $200? She buysa Fur Collarette. I can say for 99 per cent. of my Fellow Barbarians that they regarded the World War as a Sporting Proposition and not as a Business Opportunity. Of course, the other 1 per cent.would manage to cash in on a Cyclone or any other Calamity.” The Englishman smiled in a superior and unconvinced Manner. It was evident that he had classified Brother Jonathan as a blood-drinking Ghoul and was not to be shaken in his Belief. “T suppose,” he said, “that the denizens of your sparse!y- settled Continent are absolutely fair and unbiased in making up their Estimate of the British Empire. Would it be your private Opinion that we get a Fair Shake on the Fourth of July?” “Possibly not. ‘Sure,’ is ‘Sure’ and ‘Right-o’ is ‘Right-o,’ and never the Twain shall meet. No Country has a Monopoly on Popular Delusions. Every Provincial thinks that the For- eigner is a Lunatic with a dash of Criminality added. And only a few of us escape being Provincials. I visit England every year or two just to get the Provincialism frozen out of me. I am one of the few Americans who know that a real Lord does not say ‘Weally’ and wear a fore-and-aft Cap with the Ear- Laps fastened over the Top. I have learned, by the broadening Experiences of Travel, that a real Lord is a sandy-complected Guy whose Trousers need pressing. I regret to say that the helpless Urchins in our Public Schools are taught that the bona-fide J. Bull is a chinless Boob with no Sense of Humor. Out of our 100,000,000 Inhabitants, we have 90,000,000 Flat- heads who giggle over the Colored Supplement and inwardly feel sorry for an Englishman, who probably wouldn’t grasp all of the Subtleties and concealed Sarcasms. When our Juveniles grow up and the Adults substitute History for Funny Pictures and all of them find out what happened at Versayles, they may change their Minds. Not that anyone in Particular is to blame i ~ ‘After everybody had stacked up and cashed in, the poor Simp representing the British Isles had a Guaranty Deed to half of the Earth and our home-grown Champion had a Diploma” \ ME Cu TEHEON ~ aS | | < Dione py, G&A; = ~~, : | Lf

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96 The Fable of the Cousins Who Got Together mind you. Only, it follows to Reason that the Village Smart Aleck can’t maintain his Average on Circus Day. Am I speak- ing in Riddles? What I mean to convey is that when we challenged the World at the Conference, it was more or less like one of the Boy Scouts going against Dempsey. We sent over a Ship-Load of College Professors, Chiropractors, Clair- voyants, and Masseurs, not one of whom had ever been farther away from home than Omaha. We sat in, hoping to utilize our Knowledge of Bean-Bag and refusing to believe that there was any such Shenanigan as dealing from the Bottom of the Deck or using a Bosom Hold-out. After everybody had stacked up and cashed in, the poor Simp representing the British Isles had a Guaranty Deed to half of the Earth and our home-grown Champion had a Diploma.” ““Because we are the Guardians of Law and Order, ever and anon extending the Outposts of Civilization and our own Boun- daries, it has become quite the Fashion to insinuate that we are Land-Pirates,” said the Englishman. “If we brought home any Loot from the recent Love-Feast, I would that some one might reveal the Whereabouts to the Chancellor of the Ex- chequer. If, in the recent Whack-up, you didn’t get your share of the Liabilities, why not call for a new Deal?” “Nothing doing!” exclaimed the Yank. ‘All we want now is a quiet and restful Corner and a few Headache Powders. Please remember that up to the time you began Wigwagging and sending an S.O. S. every 8 Seconds, we had led what you might call an Isolated Existence. The Fact that you did Holler for Help does not seem to be very deeply engraved on the Tablets of Memory at this writing. After running around in a Circle until we were all lathered up, we finally coordinated our Sense of Justice and Physical Capabilities and dashed to the Center of the Arena, determined that Virtue should triumph over Vice. It wasn’t for the purpose of making Anything safe for Anybody. We had been nagged and kidded until we were Red- Headed and determined to cut and shoot our way out of the Joke Division. All that we could collect by winning was the Privilege of not being ashamed to meet the Folks back in the old Home Town. The real Mainspring of our Participation was to let the World know that we were Men instead of Mice. Making all due Allowance for Flukes, Delays, and Miscues, we came out of the big Razoo fully convinced that we had been We had cut the String on our Bundle We didn’t begrudge the Among those Present. and let the Tail go with the Hide. @ an, =f, » I th ess Outlay. We had demonstrated to the Universe that, even if we did live away out in the Country, we had ceased to be Yaps and were capable of seeing Visions and not afraid to sacrifice Material Advantages in defense of a noble Principle. We were not looking for more Acres or Indemnity or Ships or Alien Property. We simply wanted to have the Spotlight turned on us and hear all-Europe exclaim, “‘ Ah, the fair-haired Boy!” “What is the purport of this rambling Conversation?” asked the Englishman. “We have a Grievance,” said the Yank, “and I am trying to put you Next without pulling anything Rough on a Relative. It seems that we are Related, even if we don’t speak when we meet. Always we have recognized the Factjthat you had Some- thing on us. When we were in our own Society we fancied that we were the ring-tailed Nabobs of the Solar System, but the Minute we came into your frost-bitten Presence and you began to unbend to us as if we were performing Goldfish, we knew we were plain Herkimer. Only a few of us, and all oflthem residing east of Harrisburg, can put on Tweeds and resemble the Erics and Gwendolens depicted in the London Weeklies. The Accent is beyond us. We lack Poise and Reserve and Swagger Sticks and the Tea Habit and a lot of other Items which differentiate you and cause your Name to be spoken in a Whisper all over Long Island. Some of us, mebbe all of us, went through the War cherishing a furtive Hope that, if we could show real Class, we would be admitted to full Membership in the Human Race. We were somewhat reconciled to your Misfortunes, because it seemed to us that if you became hum- bled by crushing Afflictions and we lifted ourselves somewhat by unselfish Service, we would be less than 1,000,000 miles apart after the Smoke had blown away. In other Words, we hoped that even You would not be disposed to claim such a terrific Edge in your favor. Possibly we had a sneaking Desire to be recognized as Cousins in Fact as well as in Name. We wanted to go visiting, but not with our Hats in our Hands. I may as well confess that we expected some Bouquets, and we didn’t expect them to be composed entirely of Thistles.” “You misjudge us,” said the Childof Albion. ‘Our Attitude toward you is one of Kindly Forbearance. But even you, saturated with Prejudice as you are, will no doubt admit that Great Britain won the War.” Moral: Blood coagulates much more readily than Water. ~ MecuTcHEon — “Only a few of us. and all of them residing east of Harrisburg. can put on Tweeds and resemble the Erics and Gwendolens depicted in the London Weeklies” i | ; |

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 “*T always find this Campbell’s kind Squares up with health and joy A regular treat that’s hard to beat For any hungry boy” JOSEPH GaMPBELL CAMDEN, N.J.U-SA ACESMARK REG NOS, “Talk about a square meal” Any meal that begins with Campbell's” appetizing Vegetable Soup is well started toward the squarest kind of enjoyment and satisfaction. It is so nourishing and substantial that many sensible people, especially in summer, often make it the principal feature of a sustaining luncheon or supper—in fact almost make a meal of it. The change from heavier food is much to their benefit in health and condition to say nothing of enjoyment. Children thrive on this delicious soup. And it is ready to serve in three minutes any time without needless heat, labor or fuss. 21 kinds 15c a can 97 if in i aye tt : 9

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|Sani-Flu 5. PATENT DFFICE Cleans Closet Bowls Without Scouring Clean Your Closet Bowl the Easiest Way CRUBBING and scour- ing are no longer neces- sary to keep the closet bowl clean and white. Sani-Flush takes all the hard work off your hands and produces far better results than you could obtain in the old way. Follow the directions on the can; the rust stains, in- crustations and markings in the bowl will promptly disappear and the closet bowl will be left as glisten- ing white as new and ab- solutely odorless. Sani-Flush is sold at grocery, drug, hardware, plumbing, and h nishing stores. If you cannot buy it locally at once, send us 25c in coin or stamps for a full-sized can postpaid. (Canadian price, 35c; foreign price, 50c.) The Hygienic Products Co. 716 Walnut Ave., Canton, Ohio Canadian Agents : HAROLD F. RITCHIE & CO., Ltd., Toronto Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 The Pleasant Person (Continued from page 81) “Oh, they are; and she’s often thinkin’ of big round beds of them in the spring, with a border of forget-me-nots.” ‘And does she usually pretend she’s a kitten with a ball of yarn when she’s dancing?” **She does. But how do you know?” “How do vou?” he countered sharply. “*She’s told me often— but you?” “T guessed.” **You’ve let yourself get too fond of that hussy,”’ admonished Mrs. Sheehan, in quite another tone. The waiter had served oysters, and she was having a hard time wrestling with a Lynnhaven about the size of a Pomeranian. L. Reese watched her efforts, fascinatec. do you mean?” “She ain’t worth it.” must be.” ‘“‘No nice girl would let that bunch of imps back in the dressin’-room make a joke out of her young man.” ‘But I’m not her young man,” Reese protested, defending her violently even at the cost of his own pride. “I’ve made a joke out of myself, but I couldn’t help it, and I’d do it again.” “Tt’s lucky I’m twice your age, or I'd be after bein’ peeved sittin’ here listenin’ to you praise another woman to the skies all the time—and her unworthy.” “Mrs. Sheehan “Oh, I know what I’m sayin’, and it’s a shame for a lad like you to be wastin’ your time on the likes of her. You noticed that she didn’t come out of the stage-door to- night, didn’t you? For why? Because she goes out through the front of the house regular. The manager’s office is out there. Do you begin to see maybe why she doesn’t go out after the show nights with the Johns? And do you think——” “That will be all, Mrs. Sheehan.” He stopped her sharply. “I can’t listen to you, though you may mean me well. A man just don’t care to hear lies, even for his own good, about the girl he really loves.” “You knew they were lies, then?” “Of course. I’m just as much obliged to you for trying to cure me of my foolish infatuation, but it can’t be done.” Mrs. Sheehan clapped her hand. “VYou’re the understandin’est young man I’ve ever met. You’re all wrong, but it’s finer to be wrong like that than to be the wisest philosopher since Solomon.” A glorious creature in a glittering dance frock and a heavy fur wrap was approach- ing their table trailed by a middle-aged munitions fortune with an aggressive mustache and a prominent nose. L. Reese did not see them, but his vis-d-vis did, and out of the corner of her eye she noted the start of surprise when the gorgeous butter- fly’s glance fell on herself. “Why, Muggins!” The girl paused beside their table. “What are you— Ouch! What are you kicking me for?” “I’m not kickin’ of ye,” Mrs. Sheehan replied, with dignity. ‘‘And I may be Muggins to you back-stage, but in public T’ll thank ye to remember that I’m Mrs. Sheehan.” “Oh!” responded the butterfly, without an ounce of conviction or understanding in her tone, however. “I see.” “TI thought ye would. Miss La Villa, this is Mr. Kennett, Gloria Shawn’s fiancé.” “Why, Mrs. Sheehan!” L. Reese’s mouth had opened with astonishment at the old lady’s statement, and he had to say something to get it closed again “Tf he’s Gloria’s fiancé,” medias Miss - La Villa, looking not at him but at the old lady, ‘‘perhaps ne can tell me where I can find the impudent scapegrace.” “T can’t,” L. Reese contributed feebly to the conversation. “What aid ye want of the good-for- nothin’?” Mrs. Sheehan’s curiosity pro- longed the conversation. ‘Johnny Sears up at the midnight roof- show is tearing ais hair out trying to find her. Bessie La Guere sprained her ankle just at tne finish of the Nine o’Clock Revue, and it seems he’s had Gloria under- studying her all the time. You know that La Guere’s ‘Will-o’-the-Wisp’ number is about half the show.” ‘“‘What has he done?” Mrs. Sheehan’s professional instinct was aroused at once. ‘What has he done?’ Everything te can think of. Sent the press-agent out to Gloria’s house in a taxi. She wasn’t there — the first time since the show openec that she hadn’t come straight home, her land- lady said. When Sears heard that, he shifted the number to the last thing in the revue and sent out everybody who knows what Shawn looks like to all the different cafés to dig her up and take her away from the John who put the magic pass on her and made her lose her beauty-sleep. I was sent to this place.” “Well,” Saeed Mrs. Sheehan thought- fully, “you done your duty. Mr. Kennett can’t help you, because he doesn’t know where she is, either; but I’m thinking that Gloria Shawn will be there in time for the ‘W ll-o’-the-Wisp’ number.” “May I telephone that to Mr. Sears?” “You can use your own judgment.” When Miss La Villa and escort had trailed grandly across the floor once more, L. Reese fixed his dining partner with nis eye. “Mrs. Sheehan, why did you lie about my being engaged to Miss Shawn?” “T didn’t lie much. I'll bet she will be as soon as you get a chance to ask her. Ye have a way with ye, Mr. Kennett. Be- sides, it will serve her right to tease her with a rumor about her being engaged, her that never so much as looked at a man in New York. It will serve her right for playin’ this trick on you.” “But she didn’t play the trick——” “Perhaps she did now. Anyway, wouldn’ t you like to see her do that ‘Wiil- o’-the-Wisp’ number at the roof?” “T would. 1 was just on the edge of my chair, anxious to go.” “Good! So am I. If you have any money at all left to get in over there your- self, I can get a pass, bein’ as 1 work for the same management. “Let’s go.’ At the check-room, there was a momen- tary delay. When the boy brought out Reese’s overcoat and the trick hat, Mrs. Sheehan made a terrible scene by clais: ing that it was not Mr. Kennett’s hat at al’. “Try it on,” she admonished, kicting shi 4 \ : |

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weer FY mee = Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 > is HERE lawns are green and ices are served, the cool frocks of midsummer gather. Fly- away, frilly organdies; saucy English prints that play at being quaint. Fine blouses of handkerchief linenand French voile. And always rows on rows of tiny tucks and soft ruffles of real lace. To keep them so daintily fresh, so charmingly new, how often and how carefully they must be washed. Not ordinary scrubbing—their frills would never stand up again! But the Lux way will not harm them, the careful way vou do your To launder fine lingerie fabrics HISK a tablespoonful of Lux into 3 lather in very hot water. Let white things soak for a few minutes, Press suds through. Do not rub. Rinse in three hot waters and dry in sun. For colors add cold water till lukewarm. Wash quickly. Rinse in three lukewarm waters, Dry in shade. Copyrighted 1920, by Lever Bros. Co. Launder them the same way you do your silk things silks and satins. There’s no rubbing to separate the sheer threads, to work havoc among the dainty colors. Just sousing and pressing of the rich suds through the soiled spots. Every bit of expensive lace will stay soft and white. Their sashes will tie just as perkily, their colors look as merrily as though they’d never just been worn and washed. The ‘finest fabrics will last when they are washed in the delicate Lux suds. Your grocer, druggist or depart- ment store has Lux. Lever Bros. Co., Cambridge, Mass. 99

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It’s Ready THE NEW MINERVA KNITTING BOOK VOL. IV. Its pages are a revelation in hand-knitting and crocheting— showing you more than ane hundred styleful, useful and ex- quisite things (with full, clear instructions for making) that you yourself can readily fashion with beautiful MITNERVA. QUALITY YARNS Famous actresses and stars of the screen have contributed to this remarkable book. Whether it be an article for the home or for the infant in arms, or the latest vogue for the maid . of fashion—you'll find it in this wonderful “‘Volume IV”. At all stores that sell MINERVA Quality Yarns. Price. 40c—or sent pre- paid for 45c —(to Canada and foreign countries, 55c). JAMES LEES & SONS CO. 220 Fifth Avenue, New York DEPARTMENT S$ Reese surreptitiously in the shins. Then, to the boy: “You can see for yourself it isn’t his hat. You’ve gotten things all mixed up in there. Come on inside.” She led the way past the bewildered coat-room boy into his sanctum. ‘“‘We haven’t time to wait while an idea gets through this kid’s head. We'll pick out your hat for ourselves, and they can figure out their mistake afterward.” The coat-room pirate had no experience to guide him in repelling the broadside methods of Mrs. Sheehan. The English language failed him, and he reverted to Italian cuss-words, to which the lady, quite properly, paid no attention. And she picked out a very fair silk hat for Reese, which also fitted him perfectly, leaving the Italian in dismayed possession of the discarded head-gear. “You look fine in the new lid,” Mrs. Sheehan, trotting beside him on the street outside, said admiringly. “Far be it from me to spoil any of your childish pleasure,”’ Reese returned, copying her mood; “but I think you ought to know that the orphan hat we left down there with Vendetta Bill, the Camorrist cap-copper, really doesn’t belong to me at all, but to a friend of mine, Augustus Corbin. I’ve no idea what he will do with this lid so long as champagne-coolers are no longer needed in the modern scheme of things. This hat would go right on over Corbin’s ears.” “Tt would be lovelv for geraniums,” Mrs. Sheehan opined wistfully. Reese laughed. “Your mind flops about like a fish in a basket. Mrs. Sheehan. It’s a pleasure to listen to you think.” “I hope ye'll never tire of it.” At the Roof, she left him. “T’ll be goin’ back to the dressin’-room to see if I can help the runaway get ready. But wait for me afterward.” L. Reese managed to get a table for two. The box-office man said there was none, but some way, magically, an order came out from the manager’s office to put in an extra place for him and with it the word that he was not to pay for it. Bewildered, the young man followed an usher to a table right on the edge of the floor where the performance was going on. There he sat, too worried with specu- lation as to whether or not Gloria would appear to think very clearly. A duet and a comedy monologue occu- pied perhaps twenty-five minutes before the colored jazz orchestra struck up the introduction to ‘Will-o’-the-Wisp,” and Gloria, in a shimmering dancing frock, bounded onto the platform and down to the floor. She had arrived in time, just as Mrs. Sheehan had so confidently stated she would, and she looked perfectly calm and collected. L. Reese had never been quite so close to her before. Once or twice while she sang, she looked straight at him, and it almost seemed as if she recognized him. It made his heart stop beating for the fraction of a second. But, of course, it was silly; she had never seen him before. And then, in the dark with luminous costumes, she danced, with the chorus back of her, an intricate soft-shoe maze that made not a sound above the subdued melody of the orchestra. Her feet barely touched the floor, so light she was—it was the visualization of fairy laughter— and the eye could hardly follow the mood Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 of her steps. She danced a gold thread round and round the hearts of her audience and of her lover until it and he were her prisoners under a spell. At the conclusion, there was a burst of applause which it is well that Bessie La Guere did not hear. That lady had trouble enough with a_ black-and-blue ankle not to have to turn green all over. When it was quite finished, L. Reese allowed his enthusiasm to subside to where it left him very cold and forlorn indeed. He had just witnessed the arrival of a popular idol—he knew that—and he knew that if his chances of ever knowing Gloria Shawn had been slim before, they were now more tenuous than a strand of spider- webbing. In a bound, she was out of his class, out of his world. If Mrs. Sheehan had not been expecting him to wait, he would have taken the sick heart of him out of that atmosphere of gaiety back to his solitary apartment, to brood in the dark over the wreck of his high hopes. But he had to sit there interminably while, after the curtains had veiled the stage, the audience danced. An usher found him. “You're to come back-stage,” he told him, and led the way. “You’re to knock,” he instructed further, when they stood before a dressing-room door. “Ts it you, Mr. Kennett?” demanded a voice within—Mrs. Sheehan’s. “hie.” “Come in.” You, who have been warned that this is a fairy- -story, know already that, when he opened the door, Mrs. Sheehan was not there, but L. Reese looked all round the tiny dressing-room in vain for the friend who had bade him enter. There was no one there but Gloria Shawn, so white and pink and in every way more dazzling than -he had ever dreamed her, that his hurt eyes could not respond to the laughing wel- come in hers. “What are ye after lookin’ for, Mr. Kennett?” she demanded, at length. “Mrs. Sheehan——” “Sure, she’s gone, and ye’ll never set eyes on her again. Anybody but you would have guessed long ago that——” “Why, you’re Mrs. Sheehan yourself; you're both of you!” “Of course.” She held her two hands to him. “Step closer to me—lI’ve got most of the make-up off my face—and see if you like me well enough to forgive me the trick I played to find out if you were as nice as I’d been thinking you were.” He faced her across the tiny space of their two arm’s lengths and let his eyes drink in wistfully the sheer loveliness of her eyes and her smile. Out of him as if dragged by wild horses came the words he could never dream of himself as saying: “T—love—you. God help me!” She smiled again more glorious still. “Amen,” she said, “And heaven help me, too, if you don’t, because this night you have made me forget all the things I’ve been studying for all my life. I don’t really want to be a prima donna any more, not if you'll look at me often as you're looking now. I’m not as nice as your eyes say you think I am, and you’re going to find that out every day, but I’ll try-——” Why, of course, her lips were as warm and as soft as he had always dreamed they would be. 100 MINERVA | | | |

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PorER Shampooing is what makes beau- tiful hair. It brings out all the real life, lustre, natural wave and color, and makes it soft, fresh and luxuriant. Your hair slenply seeds frequent and regular washing to keep it beautiful, but it cannot stand the harsh effect of ordinary soap. The free al- kali, in ordinary soaps, soon dries the scalp, makes the hair brittle and ruins it. This is why leading motion picture stars, theatrical people and discriminating women use This clear, pure and cnticnty rease- less product cannot possibly injure, and does not dry the scalp or make the hair brittle no matter how often you use it, Two or three teaspoonfuls will cleanse the hair and scalp thoroughly. Simply moisten the hair with water andrubitin. It makes an abundance of rich, creamy lather, which rinses out easily, removing every particle of dust, dirt, dandruff and excess oil, e hair dries quickly and evenly, and has the appearance of being much thicker and heavier than it is. It leaves the scalp soft and the hair fine and silky, bright, fresh looking and fluffy, wavy and easy to manage. You can get WATKINS MULSIFIED Co. ° COANUT OIL SHAMPOO at any dru: store. A four ounce bottle shoul last for months. Splendid for Children THE R. L, WATKINS CO., Cleveland. io POO SHAM: MULSIFIED | COCOANUT OIL SHAMPOO —— MULSIFIED OCOANUT OIL AC TURE OD ONLY BY THE | Kach Bottle | Now Packed in a Carton SONTENTS ir Beautiful — com oo could be so WATKING MULSIFIED }COCOANUT OIL PAULINE FREDERICK is the use of © WATKINS MULSIFIED COCOANUT OIL SHAM. all shampoos I have ever used WATKINS © MULSIFIED COCOANUT OIL SHAMPOO is by far the superior.” LILLIAN WALKER ‘It keeps my hair its best, and is Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 ' i | + 1 f a “You may use my testimonial } An WATKING ( MABEL to the value of WATKING MULSI- HEHE OANUT 1 never _kne { || WATICI N POO beneficial to one's | | | i : | Co" If it hasnt the Signatu

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 -like oranges ? i poe me over—then a quick, sure putt to a long, cold drink of Ward’s Orange- Crush! Good? You bet it is! There are few golf clubs in which Orange- Crush and Lemon-Crush are not the favor- ites at the “19th hole.” Quality, purity and flavor have won this tribute—golfers drink only the best. There is satisfaction in knowing that all the delicious flavor comes from the delicate, fragrant oils pressed from the fresh fruits, purest sugar and citric acid —the natural acid of oranges and lemons. in bottles or at fountains Prepared by ORANGE-CRUSH CO. Chicego Laboratory: Los Angeles Send for free book “The Story of Orange-Crush” Drink | F —

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THE POMPEIAN CO. 2036 Payne Ave., Cleveland, Ohio ae Aln Made in Canada Address State Its Fragrance Brings You Instant Charm HERE are several times a day when an active person can wisely use a dash of Pompeian Fragrance. When you are tired after a hot, busy day, what comfort a dash of Pompeian Fragrance (a talcum) brings to you ~—s GuaRANTEE soothing and cooling your heated body. Suenanatniidin kage i A thousand bouquets, from a quaint, old-fashioned gar- your ruarantee of den, are crushed to give you their lasting, subtle fragrance ai and talely- —so refreshing—so delightful—so new. completely satisfied, the purchase price This soft, pure powder soothes your hot, tired body and pone ete lends your person a subtle charm. At all druggists, 25c. — co. atCleveland,o. “Don’t Envy Beauty — Use Pompeian” Special Offer Half-Box Powder and Trial Talc Can Either or both sent to one person ina family. Fora dime you get a half-box of $Uc Pompeian BEAUTY Powder and samples of BLOOM and DAY Cream. Fora nickel you get a beautiful trial can of Pompeian FRAGRANCE (a talcum) for your purse, For 1Se you get both. (BEAUTY Powder offer is good only in case neither you nor any member of your family has tried it before.) Many interest- ing beauty experiments can be made with these trial packages. No letter necessary with coupon, We'll understand. THE POMPEIAN COMPANY 2036 Payne Ave., Cleveland, Ohio Send this coupon to above address. Enclose 10c [dime] for Half-box Pompeian Beauty Powder. Or Se [nickel] for handy can of Pompeian Fragrance [a talcum). Or 1S¢ [dime and nickel) for both packages. Flesh Beauty Powder sent unless another shade requested ) Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 | | grance | | | i] | ,a Tale rit | a Tale |

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 Keep your car snappy by pre- venting the accumulation of carbon, Don't wait until veer motor is choked and caked with it. Every 500 miles give your car a dose of Johnson's Carbon over—the engine laxative, Meshes Reduce the Motoring AS the price of gasoline and labor soars the High Cost of Motoring becomes a very real problem to most automobile owners. You can bring down this cost and at the same time reduce the depreciation of your car — an hour or two a month and JOHNSON’S CAR SAVERS will do the trick. No experience is necessary for the use of JOHNSON’S CAR SAVERS—they can all be applied by the amateur with perfect satisfaction. There’s a Johnson Car Saver for Every Purpose Johnson’s Carbon Remover — the easiest, cleanest, safest and most satisfactory remedy for carbon. It will save you $3.00 to $5.00 over other methods and without laying up the car. You can easily do it yourself in 10 minutes — without even soiling your hands — and the cost is trifling. Johnson's Prepared Wax Liquid — should be used after Johnson’s Cleaner for polishing the car. It imparts a hard, dry, glasslike polish which will not col- lect or hold the dust. Preserves the varnish and protects it from the weather. Johnson's Auto-Lak—an automobile body varnish that amateurs can use successfully. You can finish your car one day and drive it the next. Ss. C. JOHNSON & SON, Dept. KS. Racine, Wis. Brantford, Ont. 9 On Johny Johnson's Black-Lac — the perfect top dressing. One coat imparts a rich black sur- face just like new. It is easy to use — dries in fifteen minutes—is permanent, waterproof and inex- pensive. Johnson's Black-Lac will make your top and side curtains look like new. Johnson's Radiator Cement—mends leaky radia- tors. Comes in liquid form, easy to use. All you have to do is remove the radiator cap and pour it in. Will ordinarily seal leaks in from two to ten minutes. Start today to bring down the High Cost of Motoring with JOHNSON'S CAR SAVERS. Insist upon your dealer supplying you. Write for our booklet on Keeping Cars Young—it’s free. No tool kit complete without a can of Johnson's Radiator Cement. It overcomes the in- convenience of laying up your car. A half-pint is ordinarily sufficient od a that or other Radiator Cement l¢ ry ( Vow R Jonnsons Carbon nemover SS JOHNSON'SY ~~ |e Ae “aS

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we Cosmopohian for July, 1920 The Long Shot (Continued from page 76) The detective was acutely aware of several things—the emptiness of the landscape, the soft breeze, and the gen- ial May sun. It was only half-past ten o'clock. He knew very well that whether he should be aware of the sun and breeze fifteen minutes later was only the toss of a coin. Hutch, at least, would kill him with satisiaction. Probably Buck Dirk, standing there by the engine, would have little more compunction about it than about shooting a sparrow. The openness of the scene was in his favor. A car might appear on the road at any minute, and even Lefty Hutch wouldn’t care to have a distant eye-witness to a murder, who might turn back and get away. He had very slight hope that these men could be cajoled; they knew too well that, if he got away, they must soon be caught. He must just flip coins with Fate. Lefty Hutch and Kit Lawrence had met in the road ten rods away. The woman was evidently explaining the sit- uation to him. It needed but few words. Hutch looked over at the figure sitting by the roadside, spoke a word or two to the woman, then turned and walked back to the big yellow truck. Kit Lawrence went with him. Their figures disappeared be- yond the truck. Soon afterward, Bodet saw what he had expected to see—namely, the big truck | backed up a bit, to get clear of the black | car and swung out in the road, then moved | ahead. Evidently, Lefty had told the| obliging truck-driver that his help would | not be required any further. Of course, Bodet could still yell, attract the truck: | driver’s attention, and so, no doubt, | get him shot, too. As the detective | watched the big vehicle roll away, gathering | speed, he saw one chance for his life go | with it. Its going disclosed the figures of Lefty Hutch and Kit Lawrence in. the roadway. The woman waved her | flowers to the truck-driver in farewell. Then she and Lefty came up the road. | The distance was only two hundred yards or so. | Hutch came within three feet of the | figure sitting on the little weedy bank by | the roadside with folded arms, and Bodet | was looking up into the murderer’s bony, | thin-lipped face, with ratlike eyes. Hutch | grinned. That grin was terribly conclusive —a hyena licking its chops in anticipation. The murderer then surveyed the scene. The only cover in sight consisted of that meager clump of bushes. He looked up and down the road. Then he spoke to Bodet. “Get up.” The detective stood up, his arms still folded. Hutch then spoke to the woman, and there was a kind of curse in his words, although his lips barely moved. “You drive his car down there and put our things in it.” She didn’t move. Only, her eyes spoke to Hutch, questioning. She stepped slowly over to the car, put her hand on the door, and turned to look up and down the road. coming,” she said. They all looked up the road, and in an instant a little car appeared, moving Make Every Electric No More Coffee — Bring Me Postum: The result of a ten days trial of INSTANT POSTUM in place of coffee, is so conducive to comfort and health that the change is usually permanent. “There's a Reason” the glowing tints and satin softness of youth’s fair skin. Pro- swiftly toward them. Socket Twice as Useful very single socket in your Every be electric socket your Electrical Appliances twice asenjoyable with The Quality Plug “Every wired home needs three or more” At Your Dealer’s le you any shade with your Two- Way Plugs. BENJAMIN ELECTRIC MFG. CO. Chicago New York San Fransisco tecting, wholesome, FACE POWDER has been in favor for 40 years. All tints at all toilet counters 50c (double the quantity lof old 25c size) plus 2c war tax. M:niature box mailed cad 4c plus le war tax. % + for a | >; Retain TWwWO-wayr | | Perfume ‘ fy Ne

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5 THAT LAST FOREVER— AND A DAY SuMMER clouds in an azure sky rest a- whileand float away. The summer moon gleams only ’til the dawn is born again. Summer blossoms blow today and bow their heads tomor- row. But “Gifts that Last,” like the love they betoken, endure forever. Authorized by National Fewelers Publicity Association DIAMONDS - PEARLS - GEMS JEWELRY - WATCHES: CLOCKS SILVERWARE | “Sit down,” said Hutch to Bodet. | But Bodet remained on his feet, and while he watched the oncoming car, he was aware that Hutch slipped a gun from his hip-pocket and held it under his coat. The car came on—a pathetically little car. “Tt’s a girl,” Kit Lawrence announced. But Bodet had seen that, too. “You won’t get away,” said Hutch. | Realizing that, the detective stood quite ™| | still while the car sped by. The incident made its impression. Kit Lawrence stepped over to Hutch and spoke under her breath. This scene was too open. “Get in the front seat,” said Hutch to Bodet. “TI’ll drive.” Bodet climbed in. Hutch walked round to climb in on the driver’s side. Again, for two seconds, Bodet found himself look- ing into Kit Lawrence’s eyes and meeting an odd, inscrutable glance. He thought she knew something, and the notion com- | forted him. Then Hutch was taking the | seat beside him. Dirk and Kit Lawrence | were getting into the back seat. Hutch | drove the car up beside their stalled ma- | chine. It took Dirk hardly a minute to toss the three suitcases from one car to the other, and they were off again Very soon they started down a long, gentle descent, and, a mile or so ahead, they caught a glimpse of the white ribbon of road winding up a hill. Further, on top of the hill, stood a considerable patch of tim- ber. Bodet knew well enough that Lefty Hutch was also contemplating that patch of woods- .a favorable spot for his purpose. They reached the bottom of the descent and began to climb the hill. Ina moment, the car began to lose speed, dying down in its tracks. When Hutch pressed the accelerator, the motor roared, but the car began to slide backward down the grade. Hutch put on the hand-brake to hold it, evidently puzzled and exasperated. Dirk climbed out to investigate and announced, “The axle is sticking way out of the wheel here.” Bodet kept still, but his heart warmed. Luck had not altogether deserted him; he had won the first toss. Hutch got out to investigate, too, and the detective fol- lowed him. Stepping down on the ground, he looked up at Kit Lawrence, and she smiled the faintest. His heart warmed further, for he was sure she had known all along that instead of tightening the hub- cap back there, he had loosened it. At least, she had held her hand, and he be- lieved that, while she probably wouldn’t help him actively, she would let him play out his desperate game against all the odds as best he could. Hutch and Dirk were glowering at the protruding axle, and Bodet frowned as he observed: “That hub-cap was no good, anyway. Probably it fell off up the road a ways. I’ll go look for it if you like.” The offer was so childlike that Hutch deigned no reply to it. Buck Dirk and Kit Lawrence started back, looking along the roadside for the missing cap. Bodet had put on his coat when he climbed back in the car. He took pipe, tobacco-pouch, and a box of matches from its pocket and filled his pipe. but seemed in no hurry to light it. While he seemed to be studying the wheel, the tail of his eye was always on those two figures, male Cosmopelitan for Ju, 1920 and female, trudging back up the road and looking along the side of it. That hub-cap might have fallen off ten rods back or two miles—there was no telling. How long dared he wait? Once that cap was found and replaced, the journey to the fatal woods could be completed in two minutes. Yet he must wait until those two figures were some distance away. He did wait, flipping the coin again. “You know, we could fasten that axle in place with our two belts,” he said sagely to Hutch—pipe in one hand, match-box in the other—and he proceeded to explain expertly how the two leather belts might be buckled together, tied to a spoke, drawn tautly down over the hub in place of the missing cap, and so hold the axle in place until they had opportunity to fasten it more securely with wire. The experiment struck Hutch as worth trying—since there was nothing else to do except wait for the finding of the cap. “You do it,” he directed. But Bodet laughed and replied: “Tt’s nothing tome. You can have my belt and I’ll show you how if you like.” The situation gave him, also, a certain advantage. He could defy his captor with impunity, because a man who is going to be killed and knows it is impervious to any lesser threat. Hutch realized that, and looked back. Those two figures were still trudging on up the road—losing them- selves to view just now as the road turned. For them to find the cap and fetch it back might take half an“hour, or more, if they had to walk two miles. But if the car could be made to run at all, they could drive back, looking for the cap as they went, and so be on their way in much shorter time. And, in any event, one might as well be trying an experiment, that could do no harm, as standing here waiting. All the same, for a moment, Hutch’s ratlike eyes examined the detec- tive with inbred suspicion. Whatever his other faults, he was not lacking in courage. He saw a man smaller than himself and quite unarmed; and he slipped out a terse, “All right.” Bodet pulled off his coat, dropping it in the road at his feet. He then took off his belt, extending it, and as Hutch reached for it, their eyes naturally met. “Why did vou kill Thayer Holt?” Bodet asked abruptly, but in a casual tone. Hutch looked him in the eye an instant and replied, in a tone as casual, “Because I didn’t like him.” He then added, “I don’t like you, either.” “T see,” said Bodet coolly. And, for an instant, he calculated whether he shou'd suggest that they block the wheel of the automobile with a good-sized stone that lay at the other side of the road; but he decided not to suggest it. Hutch took off his belt, and prudently pulled the automatic pistol from his hip- pocket, and stuck it in the waistband of his trousers where it would be readier to his hand. He then buckled the two belts together and squatted at the wheel. Bodet, standing a few feet away and looking on, lighted his pipe. “Pass one end of the belts through the spokes here,” he suggested. “I'll put it round a spoke and pass it back to you.” - So saying, he, too, squatted at the wheel, but on the inner side, at the rear of the car. The murderer passed an end of the belts Co Br x | if |

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 Your hands express your real self — Be sure you manicure them the right way How yo ou can hands as well groomed as these HE consciousness of unbe- coming or unattractive clothes may hurt—but it cannot strike deep down as can the fear that you are judged wanting in real refinement. That you are judged unmistakably - lacking in personal nicety. How uncomfortable this fear can make you! How many times magni- fied any shortcoming which may cause it becomes in your own eyes! Of all the indications of personal refinement the most significant, next Cutex quickly and harmlessly soft- ens and removes surplus cuticle to personal cleanliness, is well-kept nails. ‘To many, ill-kept nails in- dicate more than carelessness, they indicate actua. vulgarity. A few minutes of the right kind of care, once or twice a week, will keep your nails and cuticle always exqui- site. The most important part of the Cutex Cuticle Remover comes in 35-cent and 65-cent boiiles. Cutex Cake Polish is 35 cents manicure is the care of the cuticle. You must never cut it, for cutting ruins the cuticle. But with the Cutex Apply a little Cutex Nail White direct- ly from the tube underneath each nail way you can always have perfect nails and cuticle. Wrap a little cotton around the end of an orange stick (both come in the Cutex package). Dip it in Cutex and work around the base of the nails. Then wash the hands, pushing back the cuticle with a towel. The surplus cuticle will disappear, leaving a fum, even, delicate base. If you like snowy white nail tips apply alittle Cutex Nail White under- neath the nail. Finish your manicure with Cutex Nail Polish. For an especially brilliant lasting polish, use Cutex Paste Polish first, then the Cutex Cake or Powder Polish. If your cuticle has a tendency to dry or grow coarse, apply a bit of Cutex Cold Cream each night. This cream was especially - prepared to keep the hands and cuticle soft and fine, Give yourself a Cutex manicure ~ regularly, once or twice a week, ac- cording to the rapidity with which your cuticle grows, arid you can have nails that you are always proud of. Cutex is on sale at all drug and department stores. Six manicures for 20 cents Mail this coupon below with zoc and we wil] send you a complete Introduc- tory Manicure Set, not as large as our standard sets but containing enough of each of the Cutex products to give you at least 6 manicures. Send for it today. Address Northam Warren, 114 West a bit of Cutex Nail Polish on the palm rhe hand and rub the nails briskly over it 17th St., New York City. J/ you live in Canada, address Northam Warren. Dept. 507, 200 Mountain St., Montreal. MAIL THIS COUPON WITH TWO DIMES TODAY 19 Northam Warren, 114 West 17th Street, New York City 107 0 | | \ SQ VBS f d a ~ ‘

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108 | Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 The Big Brother to the Railroads OT only individuality or product but individuality or performance is expressed by that front. Right there Kelly-Spring- field superior efficiency begins. It was designed with a wide variety of hauling problems in mind—load, loading conditions and travel, each playing its part in the consideration to save the owner’s money. First—You can’t smash the radiator in restricted quarters—it’s protected against accident, twists and vibration. Second—Radiator is not in the way of the driver in making minor ad- justments and necessary routine care. Third—Engine accessibility increased by being at work bench level. Fourth—Excess engine power is there. And it is made practical and profit- able because Kelly construction per- mits its use. But this is only the beginning of efficient performance. Beyond that characteristic front are other important Kelly-Springfield de- velopments. You will find flexible construction, also Kelly-Spring- field workmanship plus the guar- antee of a factory which stands for complete manufacture of all important units and not mere assembly. All ot these individual factors com- bine to keep Kelly-Springfield trucks performing consistently and to assure slower depreciation. We have three drives—heavy duty double chain, worm and overhead—because no one type can economically fit all kinds of conditions. Our fifteen years’ truck manufacturing experience and basic studies of transporta- ‘tion problems are valuable to purchasers. THE KELLY-SPRINGFIELD MOTOR TRUCK CO., SPRINGFIELD, OHIO (- ac, > of if f és 1ency

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 through the spokes. Bodet turned it round a spoke and passed it back. Hutch then proceeded to tie the stiff leather to the spoke. While he was about it, Bodet covertly pushed his coat beneath the end of the car. Hutch drew the flat leather over the exposed hub so as to hold the floating axle in place. pass the leather round a spoke on the lower side of the wheel, but, unseen by Hutch, his left hand was busy under the car. Drawing the leather tight and getting it securely knotted round the lower spoke was a matter of some difficulty. Mean- while, Bodet cautiously edged away from the car, without changing his squatting posture, by wriggling his feet along the roadway. In that painful manner, he gained, perhaps, two feet. His pipe had gone out, and he struck another match. Hutch’s sweaty hands ceased tugging at the leather, and he looked up at the car, sniffing as ‘though a strong odor reached his nostrils. At once, Bodet thrust his lighted match into the tiny stream of gaso- line that was trickling down the road. The stream was running briskly from the open stop-cock in the car’s gasoline-tank but it struck first on Bodet’s wadded coat beneath-the car and so made no sound. Some of it soaked into the coat, and some of it formed a tiny rill down the road. For a grueling instant, nothing hap- pened. Then a flash of fire ran from the match to the soaked coat, and a vicious- little volcano of flame burst beneath the car, shooting through the wheel into Hutch’s face. At the same tine, Bodet, with a froglike leap, was throwinz himself over on his back and rolling to the other side of the road. With fire in his face and nostrils, Hutch sprang up, instinctively reaching for his pistol. It was purely in- stinctive, for his brain was bewildered at the moment and his smarting eyes saw nothing. Flames were roaring over the back of the car by that time. Pistol in hand and more than half blind, the mur- derer sprang away from the fire. An in- stant later, the gasoline-tank exploded. Buck Dirk and Kit Lawrence, half a mile away, heard the explosion and turned. All they could see, where the car had stood, was leaping flame—there and over the roadway and out in the weeds at the side. Buck Dirk immediately started back on the run. The woman ran also, but without trying to keep up with him. Descending gently, the road described a curve, and after he had run two minutes, Dirk couldn’t see the scene of the fire so plainly. When he neared the bottom. of the descent and had a good view again, he saw a man lying on his face in the road four or five rods from the fire, and a moment later he recognized the prostrate form as that of Lefty Hutch. He saw no one else and ran on. As he stooped over the body, a pistol- shot sounded from the weeds at the right of the read. A fire burned in his shoulder, and he fell over. When Kit Lawrence came up, several minutes later, panting from her more lei- surely run, Lefty Hutch and Buck Dirk lay side by side in the road. Hutch’s shirt was gone except for a band round his neck, and his bare back looked cooked. The side of his head was bloody, and a big stone lay near. Dirk lay on his back, quite still but conscious, his eves open. A red Bodet helped him dye was spreading over the shoulder of his coat. Bodet sat on the weedy bank at the roadside with Lefty Hutch’s automatic in his hand. He was holding his left eye shut, and that side of his face looked as cooked as Hutch’s back. The left side of his shirt was in tatters, and he was rumpled and dusty all over, as though he had rolled in the road. The woman perceived that he held his body upright with difficulty. “T suppose I needn’t have used the stone,” he said, looking at the bloody side of Hutch’s head, “but I could take no chances. It caught me, too. Fortunately, it was my left arm.” She saw that that arm hung limp. His body swayed a little, and she thought he was going to faint. -But he brought him- self up and spoke again, with an effort. “‘He’s alive?” His nod indicated Hutch. She stooped, felt her husband’s wrist, and said, “Yes; he’s alive.” That seemed to give Bodet satisfaction. “T can still shoot,” he said, with a con- vincing deliberation. ‘Fetch Dirk’s gin here, or I’ll shoot him again.” Dirk’s eyes were upon her, but he made no resistance as she plucked the weapon from his weak fingers, he having drawn it as he ran. She stepped over and offered it to Bodet. “Just drop it,” he said. As she stood in front of him, he fixed his one open eye on her face, holding himself with all his will, and said, under his breath, “You sent me that letter.” She stopped and murmured, “Ves; I’ve always been afraid of him, and I’d heard of you.” His brain was too dull just then to search through the coil of motives which had led her to put hin on Lefty Hutch’s trail, and then to stand by and see which of the two would win the game of life or death. “Maybe I could have got away,” he said to her; “but when I came up with him, I made up my mind we shouldn’t part until I’d got him or he’d got me. Thayer Holt was my friend.” “Yes,” she murmured back. It seemed a sympathetic murmur, but the top of his head was getting very numb and misty; the landscape had taken to reeling tipsily. Those two men in the road were still alive. He believed in this woman’s sympathy just now; but as to what would happen if he should topple over in a faint—— The wreck of the car was still burning. All along, he had counted on that as a sig- nal, sure to attract the attention of who- ever might be abroad in that neighbor- hood. He shut his lips and put forth all his will, saying: “Stand off a little way. I’ll last until somebody comes.” She moved up the road three or four yards, away from the prostrate men, her back to them, looking at the fire. The landscape gave a big lurch. Bodet thrust out his will again, and then from both directions he heard the honking of auto- mobile-horns. The welcome sound con- tinued, drawing nearer. In a moment, a car rushed into view. Bodet knew that he would last until they came up and heard what he had tosay. After that, the hospi- tal, maybe. He cared little. Thayer Holt would be avenged. The Cement- Worker, relating the next adventure of Ben Bodet, business detective, will appear in August Cosmo itan. Largest Selling uality Pencil in the World PENCILS can be hatever your pencil work, a be. a constant delight and an economy in the end. 17 black degrees, 3 copying For bold heavy lines 6B-5B-4B-3B For general writing and sketching 2B-B-HB-F. O better For clean fine lines For delicate thin lines 7H-8H-9H Cor ving for indelible uses Plain Ends, Per does | doz., $1.09 At stationers and stores throug! tae world. American Lead Pencil Co. 224 Fifth Avenue, New York and London, Engiand | NENUS) JENUS | | («Cf = 7, | | |

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$95 An Hour! “Every hour I spent on my I. C. S. Course has been worth $95 to me! My ition, my $5,000 a year income, m ome, my family’s happiness—I owe it to my s time training with the Inter- national Correspondence Schools!’’ Every mail brings letters from some of the two million I. C. S. students telling of promotions or increases in salary as rewards of spare time study. pre pan with the hours after supper? Can you afford to let them slip by unimproved when you ¢an easily make them mean so much? One hour a day spent with the I. C. Swill prepare you for the position you want in the work you like best. Yes, it will! Put it up to us to proveit. Mark and mail this coupon now/ eee TEAR OUT HERE oo INTERNATIONAL CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOLS BOX 2570, SCRANTON, PA. Explain, without me, how I can qualify for the position, or in the sub} fore which I x. ELECTRICAL ENGINEER SALESMANSHIP and Rys. ADVERTISING < Window Trimmer Telegraph Engineer Show Card Writer Lelephone Work Sign Painter MEOH ANIOAL ENGINEER Railroad Trainmen Drafteman ILLUSTRATING Machine Shop Practice Cartooning ‘ate CIVIL ENGINEER BOOKKEEPER Sarveying and |Stenegrapher and Typist 7 MINE FOREMAN or Cert. Pub. Accountant _j STATIONARY ENGINEER TRAFFIC MANAGER ine En |Rellway Ship Draftsmen Commercial Lew ARCHITECT GOOD ENGLISH Contractor end Batider Teacher Arebitectaral Common Seboo! Concrete Builder CIVIL SERVICE .) Structural gi Railway Mail | PLUMBING AND HEATING MOBILE OPERATING Sheet Metal Worker Auto Repairing Textile Overseer or Supt. Navigation OREMIST AGRICULTURE Mathematics Poultry Reising Name. Present Street and No.. City. State. Canadians send this coupon to 7-26-08 International Schools, M sting, accepted styles - MTailed request Weppinc ANNOUNCEMENTS Samples will be forwarded as an exhibit of ing Quality as produced by this House Correct fr all Social Functians Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 for All’’ (Continued from page 57) “No, Boris,” she said tensely; ‘no— not now! Listen tome. You must listen!” He didnot let hergo, but he stopped kissing her and listened. “I told Trina that I would come right back. We have the same cabin. You must go to her and say that I have changed my mind, that we are going to sit out on the deck. Say that you are sorry she issick. Be nice to her.” “You will wait for me here?” “Of course.” “Keep the door locked till I come. :| I-was in the midst of preparing. You shall help me—it won’t take us long. Kiss me.” She kissed him, and, when he had hurried off, locked the door behind him. Then she groped about until she succeeded in turning on the electric light. Now and then, sea water, heavy as lead, rolled against the port-hole. In the mid- dle of Boris’s berth, in a nest of bedding securely wedged and guarded from contact with each other, were the two heavy water-bottles, loaded and wired. Anna Palanova uncovered the port- hole and, as that side of the ship began to roll upward, pulled it open, snatched: the bombs from the berth, and threw them one after the other out into the night. It was the work of seconds. As the port-hole began once more to swing downward, she slammed it to, twisted the bolts into place, and screwed them tight. Then she turned off the lights and waited for Boris to return. “You have thrown them overboard! Why have you done that?” “Because all day the feeling has been growing in me, Boris Odeschalki, that I could not bear to have you die. I put morphine in your tea; but you upset the cup. I thought of telling your secret to the captain. But I could not do that, because I had promised not to. So I came and sent you to Trina and spoiled your work. And now I will go.” . He turned on the light and locked the oor. “T think not, Anna Palanova.” “Don’t be foolish,” she said. “Boris, 1 love you.” “All the more reason.” “No; love is beautiful and honorable. That feeling has been growing in me all day. And everything looks altogether different. I am no longer oppressed. I am jealous of no one. I have been a fool. But, Boris, when the judge, in sentencing me, spoke about America, he made lots of things that I had felt sure of seem doubt- ful. I was condemned to be deported for acts of which I am ashamed and for doc- ‘| trines in which I no longer believe. I love you. I will marry you—as people have married since the beginning of the world. If that is not what you want, so be it. If you will not let me go freely, I will try to kill you.” But Boris Odeschalki reached for the key in the door and turned it backward. “T would not have it otherwise,”’ he said. “All day the work that I have had to do has seemed more and more hateful to me. I am not sure that I would have blown out the side of the ship even if you hadn’t come. We will change our names, Anna, and somehow we shall get back to Amer- ica, and—” He shook his head slowly from side to side, all the while smiling. “Somehow, love leaves no room in a man for—for political responsibility.” All the rest of the voyage they were as happy as two love-birds. Into their lives had come respect, purity, and unselfish- ness. They were no longer interested in the brotherhood of Man. It seemed to them that the state was not the aim and end of all things, but that marriage was. In time, the ship’s company was landed in a White port, and taken under guard to an outpost of the Reds. This was in a railway station. The officer in command of the outpost was a blue-lipped Russian. He had.small red eyes. A train was waiting. After each of the returned world-patriots had been searched and robbed, he or she was marched off and driven into the train. There was no heat in the cars, and the night was biting cold. The men were examined first. “Courage, my darling!” Boris had whispered. Anna Palanova had watched them take from him what money he had, his watch, his bunch of keys, even his fountain pen. “Oh,” she thought, “what miserable, deluded fools we have been! Free Russia! Free pandemonium!” When Trina Bernstein had been searched and her money, with which she was well provided, had been taken away from her, she was marched off after the men. She had a very sick look in her face. One by one, three of the women were roughly searched. Anna remained alone. She was trembling like a leaf. A whistle sounded, shrill and piercing. This was followed by a powerful blast of escaping steam. “The train is going without me!” cried Anna. ‘My husband is on it!” The soldier seized her by the arms. The commander looked stonily into her “Women like you,” he said, “are get- ting scarce in free Russia—like every- thing else that is worth while. You can join your husband in Petrograd—if he does not freeze to death on the way. There is another train to-morrow.” Anna Palanova said nothing; she was thinking very quickly, but no thought ani she could think was of any use to er. The commander rose slowly to his feet. “You shall go to Petrograd by to-mor- ' row’s train,” he said, “if you want to, and ° feel sure your husband will be glad to see you.” A thought had come to Anna Palanova. She began to smile, and a look of mischief came into her eyes. “Tell them to let me go,” she said; “they are hurting my arms. I’ll be good.” The commander smiled. Between his . thin blue lips was disclosed a row of very small, half-rotten teeth. “Let her go,” he said. She smiled broadly and moved slowly toward him. Over her shoulder, he nodded fatuously to the two soldiers. “T will call you,” he said, ‘when you are wanted.” C | ay \ | | An accurately illustrated Booklet, showing.

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ABORTED Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 Colum Grafonol Music Wherever You Are When the Grafonola takes -avacation with you, it gives you lots of fun and asks for mighty little care. Its strong, long-running motor requires a minimum of wind- ing. The Non-Set Auto- matic Stop, exclusive Columbia improvement, lets you listen in peace to the very end of every record. GRAPHOPHONE Co., New York Canadian Factory: Toronto There’s nothing to move or set Or measure. Just start the Grafonola and it plays and stops itself. Full, pure, unmuffled tone. Exquisite beauty of design. The greatest convenience of mechanism. That’s the un- rivalled combination you always get in the Columbia Grafonola. III Columbia Grafonoias: Standard Models up to $300; Period Designs up to $2100 | &- ly 7 ar a 4 j 4

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= F you are the least bit critical about the way your clothes are carried and kept—you will come straight to a Belber Wardrobe Trunk this summer. You'll find that it meets traveling needs to the last dot of style, convenience and practical value. A Belber Wardrobe Trunk is closet and dresser combined. Clothes hang up on hangers—place for shoes, for hats, for underwear, for laundry, for small accessories. Every- thing kept neat and orderly—nothing mussed or wrinkled. No more troubie to pack it than to hang things in a closet—and you needn’t unpack it at all. Simply take things out when you want them and place them back again when you are through. The Belber name on a Wardrobe Trunk, a Bag, or Suit- Case is the dominant guarantee of smart metropolitan style and of quality beyond question. Find the dealer who makes a specialty of Belber Luggage. You can trust him to give you full value for your money. For details of this Wardrobe Trunk write for Booklet A. If a Bag or Suit- Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 He took Anna in his arms and pressed his sickening mouth against hers. Very softly she slid his revolver out of its hol- ster, pressed the muzzle against his stom- ach, and pulled the trigger twice. The impact of the first bullet hurled him a dozen feet; by pure accident, the second hit him in the throat and quieted him. Anna tore open the station door and dashed off into the night. She had not run a dozen steps when a man caugtt her in his arms. Shegaveup then. There was no fight left in her. She said never a word. The man dragged her across the track, his arm round her waist, urging and hurry- ing her. She neither resisted nor went willingly. The shout of the soldiers in the station, the sound of feet rushing hither and thither meant nothing to her. Beyond the track there was a forest. The man who had seized her pulled her behind the black trunk of a tree. The commander’s revolver still dangled in her hand. The man took it away from her. Soldiers were crossing the track in pur- suit. “Stop right there! Stop, brothers!” It was as if an electric shock had gone down her spine. “Boris!”’ she whispered. “Boris!” He spoke again clearly and incisively. “You can’t see me,” he said, “and I can see you. If you come any further, four of you will die. If that is worth your while, why, come on.” There was a long silence. He spoke again. ‘Some fool has left the station door open,”’ he said. “If you want to keep warm and comfortable, and not lie around dead in these woods——’ One of the soldiers laughed a short, hard Case interests you ask for Booklet B. laugh, and, turning in his tracks, marched back into the station. One by one and with increasing momentum, the others followed him. The last one banged the door shut. || | | | | THE BELBER TRUNK & BAG CO. Philadelphia, Pa. New York, i , Wood- bury, N. J., Pittsburgh, Oshkosh, Wis., ee SR “Tt isn’t far to the White Guards,” said Boris quietly, “and we are both strong. Come along!” “How did you escape, Boris?” “T smashed a window and climbed out. I am a little cut, but I can’t bleed much in this cold. We must hurry.” “But won’t the White Guards send us back again?” He stopped a moment to kiss her cold cheek. “Not alive, darling,” he said; “and it may be that somewhere in the world there is mercy. There is said to be for- giveness for those who repent of sin. It is possible that there is forgiveness even for those who have folly to repent of. But it doesn’t matter #oo much, Anna Palanova, if we can only be together.” Having made a circuit through the forest, they cameat last to the road over which they had been brought with the flag of truce. “Halt! Who goes there?” The command came with a violence and suddenness that stopped them as abruptly as if they had walked into a brick wall. With the words had sounded the sharp, oiled click of a breech-bolt. “Two lovers,” said Boris, clearly and distinctly, “who lost their way in a forest of lies.” “You will have to explain that rigma- role to the commander.” Anna squeezed Boris’ arm. “The commander,” she whispered, “had rather nice eyes. They reminded me of yours.” 112 rail TRAVELING GOODS | ; “3 Re ; ‘in

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ne Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 The Bruised Reed (Continued from page 37) was intolerable that a single act of his sis- ter’s should have brought about the trag- edy that blurred Susie’s honor and his own. Also, it was bitter to taste suspicion himself —to be haunted by an ominous, insistent doubt of his sister’s integrity. It was this doubt that had caused him to keep back the letter from Kansas City, which he had found one day in the mail- box. If the fellow had been a decent fellow, Dick had argued, there would have been no need for such secrecy as the feud between their fathers had imposed upon Susie and himself—no need for the refuge of the haunted house. He had kept the letter in any event, feeling himself wise and old in his concern for Emma; now he was glad. It gave him the proof that he needed, for the clearing-away of Susie’s guilt in the minds of his father and his mother. Then. he would make them, as he would sake her parents, let him marry her right. But he was sorry that he had to do what he had to do about his sister. “You go and tell papa it was you with that traveling man, and I’ll make papa let you and him get married—if he wants to and you want to,” Dick said. For a moment, hope was in Emma’s face. | “How do I know what he wants to do now? You stopped me writing to him. How do I know what he promised in that letter?” Something snapped into place in Dick’s mind at her words—a final judgment on her. He knew absolutely now that there should be a marriage, no matter whether the fellow were a decent fellow or not. “T’ll give you the letter,” he said huskily, “if you will promise to go and tell papa. He won’t believe what the tramp said if he knows it was you instead of Susie; and you —you—can—say you just went there for a minute and—nothing was wrong.” She began to cry again, and could not answer. “You can get out of it all right with papa,” he went on; “‘but he’s got to know it wasn’t Susie. I’ll give you the letter if you promise. And I—I’ll do anything— anything for you. I’ll—doanything.” She felt the delicacy of his offer. “IT promise, Dick,” she said, lifting her face, ugly, for the moment, with the con- vulsion of weeping. “‘Where’s the letter?” “You promised,” he said, and took from his pocket a soiled envelop. She looked at it an instant. Then she stumbled out of the room, and Dick heard her running up the stairs. He felt tired, and went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Then, going out the back way, he went through the garden and across the pasture. There was a creek beyond, clear and swift-running, and edged by tall sycamores. Their leaves were turn- ing vellow now, and dropping. He had won. He threw himself on the ground to think—to plan. He slept almost instantly. Five maple trees stood in a line just out- side the white picket fence in front of the Williams house. Under these trees, an hour later, Art Crane paused and wiped the cold sweat from his face. Then he fingered the cold steel in his left coat pocket—he was a left-handed man—and then softly unlatched the gate and eased it open, so that its hinges might not.creak. OVEN BAKED BEANS The first taste proves to you’ how good baked beans can be, and you realize that there is something about them that is different. This delicious taste is due partly to the quality of beans selected, and to the Heinz tomato sauce with which they are prepared. . But the main factor is-the baking in dry heat in real ovens. When Heinz Beans are taken out of the can, they are never crushed or mashed. Each bean is brown, rich, appetizing, whole -and uniform. They are inviting. Heinz Baked Beans with Pork and Tomato Sauce Heinz Baked Pork and Beans (without Tomato Sauce) Boston eels? Heinz Baked Beans in Tomato Sauce without Meat (Vegetarian) Heinz Baked Red Kidney Beans Some of the Vinegars Spaghetti Apple Butter Tomato Ketchup on 113 ery 4 ym- ‘he im nd k, ‘nt he ‘ | i | in da | ™, / \ SE ? e, j f | t ie d d d Ss le d NZ BAKED | | Al Heinz goods sold in Canada are packed in Canada

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114 The Bank of England and the Royal Exchange —in London Lonpon is more than a seat of empire— it is a capital of finance and commerce. And America’s world-wide interests make it more essential than ever that the great financial centers— London and New York —shall function in close relationship. This Company has two London Offices, the first having been established more than twenty yearsago. They are American banks conducted on American lines. American concerns can enjoy an unusual advantage in the interest rates paid on bal- ances maintained with this Company in London. In addition, they are afforded facilities for complete banking service, and for credit and trade information. Guaranty Trust Company of New York New Yor« Lonpon LiverPoot Brusse1s Capital and Surplus - $50,000,000 Resources over - $800,000,000 . Pagis Havre music Write for for FREE inf. WILLIAM SHORTHAND ay" Wonderful, New, Lasy, Scientinc System. 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If there is no Iron Clad dealer near you, order direct from us, enclosing remittance and stating size and color. Colors—black, white, gray, navy, cordovan brown and palm beach. Sizes—o to 114. Your order will receive prompt attention and be sent you postage paid. Cooper, Wells & Co., 210 Vine Street St. Joseph, Mich. er Sock Luxury some silk socks Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 He walked, not on the plank walk, to the open front door, but noiselessly on the grass. He paused again when his next steps would have taken him up to the narrow, high porch that lay waist-hizh from the ground, like a small bare shelf in front of the door. Again he wiped with a cold hand the cold moisture from his face. Then he knocked sharply with his knuckles on the porch floor. **What do you want?” a woman’s voice called from an up-stairs window. “T want to see Williams.” ‘‘What’s that?” a man asked, from an- other window. “Step outside a minute,’ Art Crane said in reply. There was a brief pause, the murmur of two voices; then the sound of heavy feet on the stair. Jep Williams appeared in the doorway just as he had roused himself from his Sun- day-afternoon’s rest—without coat, collar, or shoes, his shirt open at the throat. Nei- ther he nor his wife had realized who was waiting below. He had thought it was the man who rented one of his farms on shares, and who had come into town to see him about the winter wheat. L’ander Jenks, a womanish, talkative old man, had chosen to consider it his definite duty to carry to his niece, Susie’s mother, the gossip that had finally reached bis ears. To do him justice, it was not a matter that he could easily have kept to himself. His great conversational pas- sions were, first, the romantic and glorious réle of the South in the Civil War, and, second, the goodness of good women— particularly the women of his family. He was unmarried himself, but he had felt a‘great pride always in the quiet and dig- nified attitude that had characterized his mother, his sisters, and his various nieces. Susie had been his favorite. The talk about her stung him keenly, although he had heard only half the tale; of the travel- ing man from Kansas City there had been no mention. On the night preceding the Sunday afternoon when Art Crane stood facing Jep Williams in his doorway, Susie’s father and uncle kad followed her when she slipped out of the house. But they had never let her ascend the bluff. At the foot- bridge, they had called to her to stop, and had shaken from her, by their accusations, the truth. She had admitted their charge —that she was going to meet Dick, that she had been meeting him “‘all along,” and that she loved him. “You'll not meet him to-night,” her father told her. ‘You'll come home with me.” So, quietly, she had followed the two quiet men. “Go up-stairs,” her father ordered, when they had reached the house. She obeyed. For hours, she heard them talking. Her mother, she was sure, was weeping. A cer- tain rage against them all went throvgh Susie’s heart—against her family, and against Dick’s. “We ought to do something. Somebody ought to do something,” Mrs. Crane had said, over and over. “Tf it was any other man!” her husband had repeated darkly, in his despair. “People is saying too much; you got to do something, Art,” L’ander Jenks ad- vised. “You got to see Jep Williams to-morrow, | ALLE Ge TN SSS Learn to Dance! | ¥ learn Fox-Trot, One-Step, Two-Step, Walte and latest society dances in your own home by the wonderful Peak System of Mail Instruction. 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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 papa,” Susie’s mother insisted. ‘It’s best they should be married, anyway.” “T’ll see him, mamma; I'll see him. I'll get them married, but it would be easier to stand up and ask Jep Williams to put a bullet in me than to go begging his son to marry our girl.” “T don’t see why it had to happen like this,” moaned Mrs. Crane. ““‘What’s the matter, Art?’’ asked L’an- der Jenks suddenly. “ Nothing—nothing.” “Lie down, papa, on the sofa. It’s his heart again. Keep quiet for a spell, Art.” Jep Williams saw that it was not the man about the winter wheat. - “What do you want here?” be asked, an uneasy violence flaming through him. “You ought to know by this time that there’s nothing I and you will ever have to say to each other, and so, as there’s nothing we can say without making trouble, and as I’ve no wish to make trouble for nobody, I'll go my way, and you better go yours.” He turned then, as if to withdraw into = house. But Art Crane’s words halted im. “You stop where you are!” “Be careful how you talk!” There was a hostile pause. Then Art Crane beat back his anger, beat back his hate, beat back his pride, and spoke low and haltingly. “There’s plenty to say, Jep. I ain’t come all the way down to your place just to say nothing. I come because I want to say—I want to say—let bygones be by- gones, Jep.” “Bygones can be bygones, for all I care,” returned the other; “but that’s no reason you should go hankering after my company when I don’t hanker after yours.” A great patience controlled Art Crane for the moment. “T don’t hanker after your company no more than you hanker after mine. I don’t ask no man to let bygones be bygones just for the sake of talking pleasant together. But I come down here to-day to tell you, as man to man, that there’s a reason why I and you can’t go on like we been going on.” “T don’t know no reason why we can’t go on like we been going on. The way I’ve been going on suits me pretty good.” “Tt ain’t ourselves we’ve got to suit. We’ve suited ourselves too long.” “Who have we got to suit, if not our- selves? There’s no man I’m particular to suit “There’s no man, maybe, but there’s a boy and girl—my girl and your boy.” Art Crane’s face was miserable and white as he continued: “I and you are getting on. He’s your youngest, and she’s my youngest; both our babies are growed up. They got to live a long time yet, and you and I don’t know how long we got—but it won’t be as long as them, by a long time, according to nature. Maybe I’m not telling you nothing new, and maybe I am, when I tell you how they’ve been going together — meeting up on the bluff at nights, in that old ruined house that everybody else is afraid to go near.” “No,” said Jep Williams deliberately; “1 guess you ain’t telling anybody nothing new when you tell them that.” Still Art Crane was patient. “Tf everybody in this town knows they’ve been meeting up on the bluff, it’s our fault—not theirs. It’s I and you who 115 Every drop awakens flavor If the success of a salad depends on the dressing—and it cer- tainly does--then it follows that the success of the dressing depends on the vinegar used. The name Heinz on a bottle of Malt, Cider or White Vinegar stands for something special. Back of that name stands a repu- tation based on years of experience, the choicest materials, skill in making and long aging in wood. ‘The flavor is a thing to be remembered—-to be remembered by the name Heinz. Sold in pint, quart and half-gallon bottles filled and sealed in the Heinz establishment. Pressed at the Heinz HEINZ palnt in Seville, Spain, Olive Oil orous methods of clean- liness prevail there that from selected olives. Absolutely pure and full characterize the Home of the 57. In bottles or tins. Some of the flavored. The same rig- Vinegars Spaghetti Apple Butter Tomato Ketchup = | | Vinegars qe | All Heinz goods sold in Canada are packed in Canada

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COACHING FOR ADVANCED AC- tent pares for State Board and institute Exam: alle Extension University The Larges the World Dept. 755-R Chicago, IMinois [Address] This book tells you when to use , Saxophone — singly, in quartettes, * in sextettes, orinregularband;how * to transpose cello parts in orchestra and you would one and soon be playing lar airs. You cap ible your income, vour pleasure, and - Easy to pay by our easy payment plan. MAKES AN IDEAL PRESENT thing in True-Tone ba: nstru' BUESCHER BAND INSTRUMENT co. 280 Jackson Street, Elkhart, Ind, of drove them to acting in a way that looks bad. If I and you had been civil-speaking and sensible, my girl and your boy wouldn’t have had to go acting like this, making the town talk about them like this, and making people laugh at us, maybe.” “People are welcome to talk and laugh, too, as far as I’m concerned,” said Jep Williams, with cold unconcern. “By God,” cried Art Crane, “they’re not a Rice to talk about my girl! If you don’t care about your boy ——” “My boy won’t go up the bluff from now on. As for the talk, I guess he can take care of hisself.” “He’s been up the bluff too often,” said Art Crane, with dangerous quietness, “and he’s got to do his share helping me take care of my girl from now on.” “T don’t know what you mean.” “Don’t you? I do. And I tell you straight that if I hadn’t felt that I and you had acted wrong, and brought this on him as well as on her, I wouldn’t have come here like a gentleman and asked you to let bygones be bygones for their sake. I wouldn’t be standing here talking quiet and reasoriable to you, with the whole town talking dirty or hinting dirty about . them, if I didn’t think the blame was on I and you—and think our children better than us, maybe, and as good as anybody else’s children who can see each other right and get married right without hiding off like they was criminals. If I thought he was the only one to blame for getting her talked about, he’d be as dead this minute as you'll be before the church-bell rings to-night if you try to stand in the way of your boy marrying my girl as soon as her mamma can get her ready.” “You may be armed,” Jep Williams commented, without excitement; “I’m not. I never liked you, and you never liked me—but I’ve always respected you as too fair a man to shoot another man without hearing what he’s got to say for hisself.” “That’s what I come for—to hear what you got to say. But if you don’t say what’s right, and do what’s right, you might as well spare yourself the trouble of drawing another breath.” “In God’s name, Art Crane,” cried Jep Williams, with the first sign of heat that he had shown, “why didn’t you watch your girl? I’ve got a girl, too, and I never let her out nights, buggy-riding or meeting boys I don’t know about. 1 and her mother have always watched her careful.” ““My girl wouldn’t have needed watch- ing if I and you hadn’t been going on like this all the time her and your boy was growing up. That’s what’s come to me now, and mace me come to you and talk like tnis. That’s why we’ve got to bury our own feelings now and stand together, and help them get married right and start proper and live down this dirty talk. I’m willing, and, if I’m willing, you ought to be willing. You’ve got to be willing, by God!” There was a pause. Something not un- like compassion for the other man went through the heart of Jep Williams. He realized that Susie’s father had only heard half the tale— the part involving his son. It was evident that the tramp’s darker version concerning the girl and the man from Kansas City had not reached Art Crane. “T admit you’ve come here and talked Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 reasonable, like a gentleman,” said Jep Williams, in a strangely gentle and win- ning voice. “I admit that; and in your place I’d try to act the same, maybe. I never thought you wasn’t a man who didn’t want to do what was right. But what is right for one ain’t always right for another; and I can’t do or say what you want me to because it ain’t right for my boy to marry your girl. I don’t care to say no more.” “You've said too much not to say more! Why ain’t it right for your boy.to marry my girl?” “It ain’t—necessary, as I see it. I don’t see as it’s necessary to get them two mar- ried because of a little talk. Talk dies down.” “There’s something you’re not saying straight out. Why ain’t it right for your boy to marry my girl?” There was a pause. A sinister doubt came over Art Crane—a strange feeling that his old enemy was evading saying something “straight out,”’ not because of fear but because of kindness. ‘“Ain’t my girl good enough for you?” The violence of the question leaped up at him so suddenly that Jep Williams put up his hands as if to push his way out of a suffocating density. “No, Art Crane; she’s not!” Art Crane laughed and drew his re- volver. “You're powerful particular,” he said. “Shoot if you’re going to,” the other man returned, hurrying with his words, “because I’d rather be dead than see my boy married to your girl, and I never re- spected a man nor felt sorrier for him than I do you this minute, Art. But it ain’t right fora boy to be made marry a girl that some other man’s had——” The revolver that had been wavering in a trembling hand suddenly became steady —and steady, too, was Art Crane’s voice, ringing out: “You'll never say that again! Take that! And that! And that!’ But only one of the shots told, for the left-handed man was not so steady as he seemed. A powerful twitching and a whirling blindness prevented his aiming true. Jep Williams did not fall, but he reeled forward and slumped into a chair. A woman came screaming down the stairs. “Jep! Jep! O my God! Dick—your pa——” She stood aghast and shaken, silent for a single instant as she faced Art Crane, wo clung with one hand to the edge of the porch and in the other held, barrel down- ward, the smoking revolver. “You done this!” she cried, bitterness and scorn wailing in her voice; ‘and it’s your girl brought this on you and him and of us. Omy God, why couldn’t our boy go find some decent giri io run after?” She flung herself down on her knees be- side the still figure lying sprawled in the old, low rocking-chair. “Jep!” she moaned. “Jep!’”’ He opened his eyes, but their gaze went beyond her to the face of his enemy. ““You—oughtn’t to—done—it,”’ he whis- pered. “Maybe I oughtn’t,” Art Crane whis- pered back. ‘‘Maybe you was acting like a gentleman all along.” Then he dug with the knuckles of his awkward right hand at the great tears that seemed suddenly to be overwhelming 116 | | | [Name] Q Bositiony | Easy fo Pay SAXOPHONE.

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A = 2s = S< DOOR SEDAN It is a pleasant sight to see in almost every city or town, the host of mothers, with their children, enjoying the Sedan It holds the family group together—in itself no small service to the nation The gasoline consumption is unusually low The tire mileage is unusually-high Dooce BROTHERS, DETROIT = Sea Sa = Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 117 é il \ ill if | | | | | | | | | ill | i fi } il i a || | ill | \ 4 il I il il ti |

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It will stimulate circulation and restore rosy cheeks Use Radior Vanishing Cream in the day-time ——for a powder base, .o protect the skin, to have a tonic effect, to tone up facial muscles Use Radior Face Powder—in the shade ap- propriate to your complexion—it too, con tains the costly health-giving element. Write today for your free vanity case. Address The Radior Company Ltd. of London 235 Fifth Avenue New York City The Radior Company Ltd. of London 235 Fifth Avenue, New York City Please send me free the Jeweler-designed vanity case containing Radior Compact Pow- der in the shade checked. blancheD or rouge natural lightO) rachelQ roseD) natural darkD I enclose $1.00 (to include postage and luxury tax) for article below marked “x”. Radior peau de velour (night cream)O Radior Vanishing CreamQ Radior Face PowderO blancheD naturelle roseD) Name This case~: him and all the world—and turned blindly toward the gate. Mrs. Crane waited, rocking nervously in a chair placed near the open kitchen door; L’ander Jenks paced the path from the side gate to the back door, watching the road. Presently she came out of the house and stood beside L’ander. At last they saw him. The three met at the gate. “Well, Art?” “Ts—everything all right, papa?” “Where’s Susie?” Arthur Crane asked, as if he had not heard their hushed, agi- tated auestions. “Come in the house and lie down, Art; you look all played out.” ““Where’s Susie?” “Did you see Jep Williams?” “Let him lie down and rest, uncle L’an- der, before he tries to talk. You go ahead and get him a fresh drink of water from the cistern.” She was trembling and unsteady herself, but such strength as she had she shared with her husband as they went toward the house together. ““Where’s Susie?” he asked again, as he lay down on the sofa in the front room. “She’s up-stairs, Art,” Mrs. Crane an- swered. He closed his eyes. “Call her,” he said faintly. His wife went to the door. “Susie! Susie! Papa wants to see you. Come down.” “All right,” came Susie’s reply, indif- ferently. But she did not come at once. L’ander Jenks came with a glass of cold water, freshly drawn from the cistern, and Art Crane drank.a few drops before motioning it away. Again he lay back and closed his eyes. His breathing was harsh and loud. “You go get Doctor Clay,” Mrs. Crane commanded her uncle suddenly. “T guess I better,” he agreed, and, with an anxious, frightened look backward, left the house. “You’ve been a good woman, Sarah,” Art Crane said suddenly. His voice sounded as if he were very far away. She began to cry. ““What’s the matter, papa?” she begged. “What’s happened? Is it something about Susie and that Williams boy?” “Jep Williams means right,” he said quietly, still in that far-away voice, “but it don’t help. You didn’t hear anything about some—some other fellow, did you, mamma?” “ ‘Some other fellow?’ You don’t know what you're talking about, Art. Keep quiet till the doctor comes, now.” But she could not let him do as she had urged. “Tt was Dick Williams, as you saw for yourself, she was going to meet. I never heard a word about no other fellow,” she went on fretfully. He put out his hand and reached hers. “They claim there was another fellow besides Jep Williams’ boy. That’s why they won’t let him marry her. I shot him when he said it.” ““O God, help me bear it! God help me!” she sobbed, going down on her knees. ““Where’s Susie?” he asked again. Susie came toward them then. She had paused in the doorway and listened. Aghast and helpless for a moment, she had suddenly become strong with anger. “Papa!” she cried, her hands clenched Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 hard together, and drawn up against her breast as though in furious prayer. “God forgive her,” wailed her mother, ‘and help me bear it!” Arthur Crane’s eyes opened, and his vague, wandering gaze came to rest on Susie’s face. His brows puckered like a child’s; he was finding life, at the very last, a baffling and inexorable riddle. “God forgive us all!’ he murmured helplessly, and died. It was nine o’clock when Dick went in- side from the back porch where he had been sitting, brooding heavily, to help his father up-stairs to bed. “When Emma tells him the truth,” Dick had meditated, ‘“‘papa will have to go to Susie’s papa and take back what he said. Susie’s papa was willing for us to. get married right, and papa will have to be willing, too, when he knows there’s nothing against her. He don’t seem to hold it against him much for shooting at him; but if Emma don’t tell him the truth right away, there may be more trouble. I'll walk over to Susie’s house after a while, and walk right in and tell her papa every- thing.” i But he did not walk over to Susie’s house that night. Up-stairs, he found a letter addressed in Emma’s handwriting to himself. Enclosed in it was another, unsealed, to his father. He read them both, terribly sick at heart. She had written to her father: I said I would never cause you no more trouble, and I never will. It wasn’t Susie Crane that tramp saw on the bluff with the traveling man from Kansas City that time. It was me. It was all my fault Susie got talked about. Dick knows it, and he will tell you if I don’t. And even if nobody was going to tell you, you ought to know it, as Susie’s papa might cause more trouble if you’re not willing to take back what you said and'let Dick and her get married. So I am doing the best I can for your sake, as I’ve caused so much trouble that I think it’s better to do as. I’m going to do. If I had always listened. to you, this would never have happened. Please, papa, don’t grieve, and don’t let mamma grieve. It is best. With love and kisses, ee Your loving daughter, P.S. Don’t let mamma think I was as bad, as people said Susie was. As far as I know, Susie is a very good girl and has been very nice to me. I am not afraid. Good-by. E. To Dick, she had more to say. Dear Dick: Please give this letter to papa, and try to make him believe that what I did wasn’t really wrong, though it was. I couldn’t write any more lies to him or I would have tried to make him believe it wasn’t, so it would be easier for him and mamma. But no girl is as bad as 84 made out Susie; so I told the truth about t. I hoped that letter you had kept would have something in it that would keep me from doing this. But it didn’t. He admitted he was married and was moving with his wi‘e to Cali- fornia and couldn’t help me. I knew, when I wrote to him, that if he didn’t do something, I would have to kill myself. I kept waiting all this time for his answer. So don’t feel bad for talking like you did and making me promise to tell papa. If he had not been married, I would have told you the truth so you could help me to get to Kansas City, maybe, for I think you are my only friend and would have @ | / J | || |

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A tim cy — e fr Actual Photograph of the New Six-48 Touring a —, = Ni The Moon is an embodiment of the high- \' i= est degree of engineering skill. Each unit oS is the work of part cane that have an attained outstanding leadership in their -particular field. No single organization could embrace all these specialists, but Moon engineers have combined the skill of all in a distinctly individual car that is —. ww priced within the realm of reason. w — ST. LOUIS, U.S. A. es | Hin C= 3 You get the tool you want without disturbing anyone or searching for it. Each tool is in a separate pocket, held firmly so as to prevent any jingling or rattling. This little picture tells a story of many words about the Moon. On occasions when tools are needed, the compartment in the driver's door brings a smile and quick action. — Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 119 WEN | | WwW |

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State Canadians may send this coupon to 7-260 International Correspondence Schools, Montreal, Saved*6422 On a Diamond writes: “*$136. eppraised This is rm nearly 8 /4 contury oid, re $1,000,000.00, Why Pay Full Prices Send for been willing to help me. But it’s no use now trying to fix things. So good-by, Dick. Your loving sister, Emma. P.S. You and Susie have my best wishes. Dick crossed the hall and opened a door very gently. Outside, the moon had risen, brilliant and full, and in the silvery light, trembling through the blown moon- flower vines at the window, he saw the curious emptiness of his sister’s room. He stood staring, his thoughts straining toward “| hope like leashed hounds straining forward. But he would not let them run toward the possibility that there was still something to be done—a girl’s life to be saved. She was not here. Where, then? Emma’s dog, Spotty, was barking from somewhere in the distance. There was a place where the creek poured into a bot- tomless pool and stood still beneath the leaning sycamores, whose roots went down the steep washed-away bank like white snakes into the water. Spotty’s bark became a whining call. Dick fol- lowed it, out of the house, running, through the meadow, along the shore of the hurry- ing stream, unti] he found her. Her face was upturned from the surface of the still water. One arm was about the neck of the struggling, whining collie. She was not dead. She was only white and cold and still as death when her brother carried her in his arms back to the moonlit room that had been so empty of her a moment before. Then, a day later, while she lay in bed, her face to the wall, coughing a little, trembling between the horror of death and the horror of life, he took the two letters that she had written and went to find Susie. Neighbors were busy about the house where the body of Arthur Crane lay wait- ing for burial. In the dining-room, half a dozen women were sewing. Susie stood quietly while they fitted a black dress to her. One of the men who had been sitting in the group on the side porch came in and said that Dick Williams was outside. Susie’s mother made a frightened gesture, but the girl felt a sudden warmth and dignity. It was so right of him to have come to her, after all. She went out, and they walked away from the others to where an empty ham- mock was being swung by the wind be- neath two maple trees. It was a ham- mock made of wooden barrel-staves corded together, and it creaked as it rocked. Susie sat on one edge and Dick went round and sat on the other. They leaned close together and kept their voices low, but not even their hands touched. “You know what people are saying?” he asked, a delicate shyness making the words difficult. “Why your papa shot mine?” “Ves, I know. It was all Emma’s fault,” she answered quietly; “it was her fault my papa died, too. He died believing all they said about me.” ““Something’s got to be done,” he said somherly. “There’s nothing can be done now. He’s ” dead “But—but, there’s us, Susie.” “T don’t care about us now,” she whis- pered, after a pause. “But don’t you love me no more?” Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 “Yes,” she said dully. “Yes; I love you.” “Then there’s something we’ve got to do—as soon as they’ve buried your papa. My folks have to come over here to his funeral “They won’t.” “T’ll make them. Then you’ve got to come away with Emma and me, and you and I'll get married.” “T’ll never speak to Emma as long as I live. It was all her fault.” “Take that back, quick, Susie!’ he begged. “Well, bornly. “You'd be awfully sorry for Emma if you could see her now.” it was,” she repeated stub- “T am sorry for her. But I couldn’t ever speak to her again.” “Read these letters,” he said, simply. She took them and read them. “She meant to do it,” Dick intercepted, as he saw the look of fear on Susie’s face, “and tried to drown herself; but I got there in time. Old Spotty followed her to the creek, and it was his barking that made me know where to find her.” “Poor Emma!” whispered Susie, her lips trembling. “Poor girl!’ “Oh, Susie, it might have been you— that’s why we’ve got to do something about her now. It’s not just because she’s my sister.” “Poor Emma!”’ Susie repeated. ‘What do you want us to do, Dick?” ‘‘We must all go away,” he planned quickly, hope in his eyes; “you and I must get her away from here. Nobody could understand it but you and I. We do—don’t we?” “Yes,” Susie said gently; “you and I understand. But everybody else is too old—or too mean.” “We've got to be going soon.” go—anytime. Where—where will we get the money, Dick?” “That’s all right. You see, Susie, 1 had a talk with papa this morning. I made out that Emma was broken up because all this talk. was her fault, though 1 made out, too, that tnere wasn’t anything wrong in what she did. He promised to let me take her away for a while, and he knows I’m not going to go without you. He’s feeling awfully sorry for you and your mamma now.’ “Tf only papa knew, and hadn’t died blaming me!” “It’s awful hard—but I’ll be as good to you as I know how all my life,” he prom- ised solemnly. The watchers on the porch stirred from their chairs. A buggy had stopped at the front gate. The woman got out first and tied the horse to the white hitching-post. Then, coming round to the side door, like old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Jep Wil- liams advanced, a little slowly, he with ore arm still bandaged beneath his coat, Jeav- ing its sleeve empty, and leaning with his other upon his wife’s shoulder. In her hand was a bouquet of flowers. She had gathered every blossom, indeed—red gera- niums and white, sprays of heliotrope, and the half-dozen late roses that she loved above the rest—and brought them all, set about by fragrant foliage, to lay on Arthur Crane’s coffin. “Oh, Dick!”’ cried Susie, suddenly sob- bing in the boy’s arms, as she watched his parents pass solemnly, with their heads bowed, into her mother’s house. 120 4 | 4 | | } ig } 6 ¥ if & | fer onder Pree examination. Opposite P.O., Pittsburgh, Pa. D2: References permission: Bank { lational Union Trust

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) Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 the real vim and vigor food VERY bit of the perfect nutrition nature puts in the whole wheat grain is in Krumbles. That is why eminent food authorities say one could live indefinitely on Krumbles and milk. Krumbles gives you the valuable mineral salts and other elements that benefit muscles and nerves—build up vitality and provide pep. Krumbles is made in the same big modern kitchens as Kellogg’s Toasted Corn Flakes, Kellogg’s Krum- bled Bran, Kellogg’s Drinket, etc., and comes to you from your grocer in our flavor-holding “waxtite” package, with this signature— UK: Kellogg © 1920, by K. T.C, B. Co, & \Ne ed | rumbles ALL w QS | HEAT READy TO Ear sue KELLOGG TOASTED i

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O make milady more beautiful, Nadine has created six toilet preparations. They are Nadine’s gifts to lovely women, to meet every toilet requirement. And the assistance they give milady will enhance her beauty, giving her a delicate rose-petal complexion of bewitching fragrancy. Milady will have a soft, smooth, velvety skin, with just a tint of color, protection from sun and wind, with never a hint of harm, and a delightful charm which will linger in the memory. Millions of discriminating women have learned the old, old secrets of endearing loveliness from Nadine. And, if you wish, you, too, can learn these secrets. You can satisfy your Nadine needs at your favorite toilet counter, or by mail from us. NATIONAL TOILET COMPANY Paris, Tennessee Nadine Preparations Truly a dainty vision of loveliness and pleasing Trance. Nadine Talcum...... Nadine Face Powder..... 60c Pink. . White) ; Nadine Flesh Soap........ 30c \ Nadine Rouge Compacte.. 50c Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 sort e fouet omplete RA = / | Department “C.M.” | Cer = ty, F « Oa 4

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 Dear Old Squiffy (Concluded from page 70) movement, a green snake was crawling. As it crawled, it raised its head and peered from side to side, like a short-sighted man looking for his spectacles. It hesitated a moment on the edge of the sill, then wrig- gled to the floor and began to cross the room. Squiffy stared on. It would have pained Peter deeply, for he was a snake of great sensibility, if he had known how much his entrance had dis- turbed the occupant of the room. He him- self had no feeling but gratitude for the man who had opened the window and so enabled him to get in out of the rather nippy night air. Ever since the bag had swung open and shot him out onto the sill of the window below Archie’s, he had been waiting patiently for something of the kind to happen. He was a snake who took things as they came, and was prepared to rough it a bit if necessary, but for the last hour or two he had been hoping that some- body would do something practical in the way of getting him in out of the cold. When at home, he had an eider-down quilt to sleep on, and the stone of the window- sill was a little trying to a snake of regular habits. He crawled thankfully across the floor under Squiffy’s bed. There was a pair of trousers there, for his host had un- dressed when not in a frame of mind to fold his.clothcs neatly and place them upon a chair. Peter looked the trousers over. They were not an eider-down quilt, but they would serve. He curled up in them and went to sleep. He had had an exciting day and was glad to turn in. After about ten minutes, the tension of Squiffy’s attitude relaxed. His heart, which had seemed to suspend its operations, began beating again. Reason reasserted itself. He peeped cautiously under the bed. He could see nothing. Squiffy was convinced. Fite told himself that he had never really believed in Peter as a living thing. It stood to reason that there couldn’t really be a snake in his room. ‘The,window looked out on empti- ness. His room was several stories above the ground. There was a stern, set ex- pression on Squiffy’s face as he climbed out of bed. It was the expression of a man who is turning over a new leaf, starting a new life. He looked about the room for some implement which would carry out the deed he had to do, and finally pulled out one of the curtain-rods. Using this as a lever, he broke open the topmost of the six cases which stood in the corner. The soft wood cracked and split. Squiffy drew out a straw-covered bottle. For a mo- ment, he stood looking at it, as a man might gaze at a friend on the point of death. Then, with sudden determination, he went into the bathroom. There was a crash of glass and a gurgling sound.’ Half an hour later, the telephone-bell in Archie’s room rang. “I say, Archie, old top,” said the voice of Squiffy. “Hullo, old bean! Is that you?” “T say, could you pop down here for a second? I’m rather upset.” “Absolutely. Which room?” “Four forty-one.” “Tll be with you eftsoon, or right speedily. ” “Thanks, old man!” “What appears to be the difficulty?” “T'll tell you all about it when you come down.” Archie found Lord Seacliff seated on his An arresting aroma of mixed drinks pervaded the atmosphere. “T say—what?”’ said Archie, inhaling. “That’s all right. 1’ve been pouring my stock away. Just finished the last bottle.” “But why?” “1 thought I saw a snake.” “ Green?” Squiffy shivered slightly. “Frightfully green.” Archie hesitated. If Squiffy were going to reform because he thought he had seen an imaginary snake, better not to let him know that the snake was a real one. “Dashed serious,” he said. “Bally dashed serious,” agreed Squiffy. “I’m going to cut it out.” “Great scheme!” “You don’t think,” asked Squiffy, ‘that it could have been a real snake?” “Never heard of the management sup- plying them.” “T thought it went under the bed.” “Well, take a look.” Squiffy shuddered. “Not me! I say, old top, you know, I simply can’t sleep in this room now. I was wondering if you could give me a doss somewhere in yours.” “Rather! I’m in five forty-one. Just above. Trot along up. I'll tidy up a bit here, and join you in a minute.” ~ Squiffy put on a dressing-gown and disap- peared. Archie looked under the bed. From the trousers, the head of Peter popped up with its usual expression of amiable inquiry. Archie nodded pleasantly and sat down on the bed. The problem of his little friend’s immediate future wanted thinking over. He lighted a cigarette and remained for a while in thought. Then he rose. An admirable solution had presented itself. He picked Peter up and put him in the pocket of his dressing-gown. Then, leav- ing the room, he mounted the stairs till he reached the seventh floor. Outside a room half-way down the corridor, he paused. From within, through the open transom, came the rhythmical snoring of a good man taking his rest after the labors of the day. Mr. Brewster was always a heavy sleeper. “There’s always a way,” thought Archie philosophically, ‘‘if a chappie only thinks of it.” His father-in-law’s snoring took on a deeper note. Archie extracted Peter from his pocket and dropped him gently through the transom. The next escapade of Archie in America will appear in August Cosmopolitan. Notice—The continuance of paper-shertage and unprecedented transportation diffi- culties have made it impossible to place recent issues of Cosmopolitan in circulation on its regular publication-date. If your copy is late, or you do not find it on the news-stands at the accustomed time, you will understand the reason therefor. Do not write us, for this will hut add to the congestion of the mails. magazine will reach you in due time. Be patiert, and the Says DORIS KENYON in “The Girl in the Limousine”’ “There is such a dash and thoroughbred air about ltiwear Veils that I always insist on wearing them.” “VEILED FACES” (Actress Edition) showing leading actresses sent free, if you mention dealer’s name. FULD, TRAUBE, & CO., Inc. 103 Fifth high position: ig i and publiclife. Greater opportunities now ‘T PROCURED REGISTERED - A comprehensive, experienced, prompt service for the protection and development of your ideas. Booklet of information, advice, and form for disclosing idea, free on requeste B. OWEN 6C Woolworth Building AGENTS 20% per Free samples Gold Sign Letters for store and office windows. Anyone can put them on. Big demand everywhere. Liberal to ents. METALLIC LE North Clark mail false teeth, old ani For Spot Cash { broken jewelry, diamon? s, watches, old gold, silver, platin: = in any shape or amount—anythinz valuable. by return mail. Goods in 10 if ‘re not satisSe1. Ohio Smeltin; Cleveland, Ohie & Refining Co., 224 Lennox bidg., 4 Owen’, WASHINGTON, Caicago 125- + 4 | BECOME A = )s $3,000 to $10,000 Annually We guide you step by step. You can CWE Trousands of successful students enrolled, Syne LaSALLE EXTENSION UNIVERSITY Dept. 755-L Chicago, Il. me

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Miss Case stood beside the New 3 Edison and sang. —thelights went out. Case’s voice continued. “ HE recital was at Carnegie Hall this afternoon—the Edi- son Company asked me to go to it JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG and report, in my own ‘way, just ‘ describes triumph of Edison’s new what happened—lI did. / phonograph on March 10th before There was a big bunch of New a distinguished New York audience Yorkers there— ‘i that packed Carnegie Hall. Re- _A pleasant gentleman in an Ascot CreEaTeD voice substituted for living tie introduced the phonograph, voice—in darkness—and no one de- which stood unemotionally in tected the substitution. center of the stage through the or- See New York papers of March deal, without a suspicion of self- llth: ‘Times’, ‘Sun and New consciousness. hs Then Miss Case. She dra her Tele- beautiful self in an almost affection- Sun, Globe" pone ate posture against the phonograph. elec. One of her own song recordings was egram” put on the instrument, and they, Miss Case and the phonograph, san, sang She NEW E DISON together. Then she would stop her self would | Phonograph with Soul” together again—I looked away an . then back again—it puzzled me to 126 Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 e ‘First — ~

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from SUL —the lights flashed on again. This isthe scene that greeted the audience. Case’s voice was coming the Edison— but Case was not there, New Case had gone determine which was at the bat! She sang a charming duet with herself, too—one of them doing the alto business—I couldn’t say which. Then the tallest pianist in the civilized world, sometimes called Victor Young, played a charming thing accompanied by himself via the phonograph—lifting his fingers away from the keys now and again —I could SEE him stop playing, but I couldn’t HEAR him stop— the recording was so exact. It was remarkable. Most piano selections on a reproducing instrument sound like Mamie Hooligan beating the old family box, if you recall the ones you’ve suffered through. Then the big stunt of the recital —the dark scene. Miss Case began singing with the phonograph. At a certain stanza the house was sud- denly darkened. The song went on. I was shooting my ears out like peri- — scopes to detect the second when she would stop and leave the stage. I was sure I got it! But she seemed to be back again! Then I knew I was being completely deceived. The flood of light came on again —but no Anna! Only the self-pos- sessed and urbane phonograph stand- ing there singing away. it might have been the singer it wasn’t so good looking! It was quite wonderful and the audience applauded and laughed. Two girls behind me said *‘Goo- gracious’. It was both charming ‘and astonishing. ‘Statement by A. L. Walsh, Director of ' Recitals for the Edison Laboratories: ‘‘The instrument used at Carnegie Hall, New York City, on March 10th, 1920, is an exact duplicate of the original Official Laboratory Model, in developing which Mr. Edison spent more than three million dollars for research work. Every Edison dealer in the United States and Canada now has in his possession an exact dupli- cate of the instrument used at Carnegie Hall, New York—and will guarantee it, without quibble or question, to be capable of sustaining precisely the same tests as those made at Carnegie Hall on March 10th, 1920.” If you do not know the name of the Edison dealer in your locality, write us and we shall be glad to send you his name and address and a copy of ‘‘ Edison and Music.’ Thomas A. Edison, Inc., Orange, N. J. O Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 wal 4 Hy Ba

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dson by F COURSE, you’ve heard of this wonder- ful trip and its world-fam- ous scenic marvels. Plan to enjoy it for yourself this summer. The Day Line route between Albany and New York is direct and convenient. All through rail tickets accepted. Hudson River Day Desbrasses St. Pier “size, which includes Famous FRENCH Depilatory' for hair A delicately perfumed powder; removes hair, leaves skin smooth, white; for arms, limbs, face; 50c, also $1.00 mixing cup and spatula. At drug and department stores. Send 10c for HALL & RUCKEL :: 106 Waverly! Place, N.Y. The Gordon Motor Crib a mew comfort for mother and baby This Baby Crib for your auto is being used by thousands of families. An ingenious SP G arrangement enables the baby to sleep over the roughest roads and mother can drive. No jars or shocks. It cam be compactly folded or a ouehiy removed’ when -not in use. Cover protects child from weather, Occapies no useful space in car. Send for illustrated bookiet and dealer's name. GORDON MOTOR CRIB CO. Dept. C 219 North State Street, Chicago existences which we think of as the only ones that live. i “T want to draw your attention to the fact that the creations you call inanimate have life. They are expressions of God, or they could not be, and life is signified by existence. Hence the mountains and rivers, the very stones of the pavements will one day sing. They do not, and never will, develop along your lines; but they will grow according to their mission.’ Moreover, they are not only objects of love but are endowed with at least a rudi- mentary capacity for loving in return. “T should also like to tell you of the appreciation on the part of material things, which, however obtuse to the eye, are yet sensitive to love, the most powerful of all forces. When you care for a piece of furniture, in its dim, cloudy heart it loves you back. This you cannot under- stand while in your sphere, but it becomes clearer as you go on.” Thus, in our effort to reach the laws of immortality, we start with the concept of a universe of interrelated purposes, in which love is the dominating power. Tue harmonious action of that love as a working-principle is the next point to be borne in mind. “Harmony,” Henry Talbot writes, “is the coordinating factor in creation. Those things which would otherwise exert their energies in diverse manners are, by means of harmony, inextricably interwoven into one tissue of force. Nothing in the uni- verse is independent—dissociated from its fellow creatures. The very smallest reproduction of God’s ideas in form, a thing as apparently unimportant as a grain of sand, has its share in the love of God, who knows its actions and is affected by them.” Of the basis of harmony, he gives the following account, which may be only another way of expressing the conclusions at which modern science has arrived. “Everything which emanates from the Supreme Mind is force; force is vibration. All existing forms are varying degrees of vibration. Thought itself is force, or vibra- tion, for the two words are synonymous. Therefore, it follows that, God’s thoughts being force, they vibrate in degree accord- ing to their diversity. Different degrees of vibration produce different forms— hence the infinite number of varying ex- pressions of God’s Mind: “Everything created vibrates in rhythm. . Rhythm . is the’ pure thought of God vibrating i in man, and forcing him witk love to move in time with creation. “Wise men in different generations have dimly perceived these things, although the truth has often been distorted by superstition. Men have seen that the universe was knitted together, that there existed an interrelation of heavenly bodies, a relation of the moon to the sea. They have connected individuals with groups of stars, and the times of women with the “The truth is this. . .-. Some stars and some human beings belong to tke }moon.. . {same rhythm, together with infinite num- Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 The First Works (Continued from page 40) bers of otker creations. The feeling of connection between them led the astrol- ogers of old to draw horoscopes, in which there is this much truth: that things des- tined for the same purpose and revolving in the same rhythm have certain qualities which, though not possessed by a!l to the same degree, yet bear upon their purpose and bind them together in cooperation and community of design. “Few people are conscious of their rhythm, but revolve in it by instinct. It is unthinkable that anyone should be out of his rhythm, because that would mean that God’s thought tad become unrhyth- mical. We must, however, bear in mind the difference between rhythm and har- mony in God’s orchestra, the rhythms are in perfect counterpoint. That is his work. But the notes the players strike upon their instruments—that is ours. We are all players in God’s orchestra. He has given us perfect instruments and spread before us the music of his symphony. Whether we play it well or ill depends upon our own choice. . . . “T have said that men have used their minds for and against the understanding of these rhythms, and so, to a degree, have the animals. The birds and fishes, having less intelligence with which to interfere with instinct, have remained more sensitive to rhythm. What man has acquired by invention—that is, by the perception of God-given power—the birds know by rhythm. It is rhythm that enables them to fly in perfect balance, in perfect formation, and in perfect under- - standing. Itisalso the rhythm of the earth —the waves of vibration sent out by the sun, the moon, the globe, the wind, the sea—which tells them when and where to take their flight according to the seasons. Birds as a genus, in proportion to their intelligence, are the most moral of God’s creations, which means that they have lived in the closest harmony with the heart of the universe, and from this springs their extraordinary power. “A life of perfect harmony,”’-is his con- clusion, ‘would mean . . . a reestablish- ment of »perfect understanding between man, the animals, the ‘objects,’ and the elements. It would mean that man would take his place again as trustee of the world, lead his fellow creatures back to their rightful places, and help them to accom- plish their appointed tasks. It would mean that his fellow creatures, finding themselves again in their natural condi- tions, would cooperate in friendship, and that evil, which is another name for dis- location, would be abolished. The body, being no longer abused, would shake off disease like a bad dream, and the spirit, being freed from evil influence—by which I mean misdirection—would soar upward in development as we do here.” Since we are speaking of the universe and of human life within it from what may be called a supersensual point of view, it may not be amiss if I go on to give Henry Talbot’s classification of the differ- ent creatures of God as ranged below human rank. “Under animals | group all obvious life, including that of the vegetable kingdom. | = , i | ) j | } \ Attractive one-day outings New York to Bear Mountain, West Point,: Newburgh and Pough- keepsie. Large luxurious steamers. | = | | | A a — trial sample and booklet. \ Ld = if |

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REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. Ser Heat For Instant Cooking 10-Day Free Offer to introduce STERNO ALUMINUM STOVES TERNO CANNED HEAT is solving the cooking ees ae : problems of millions of people. It is the quickest, safest, hottest emergency fuel known. Odorless, smokeless, Pure Aluminum. non-explosive and non-spillable, Sterno is the ideal fuel ik Stove for =. for any and every occasion where heat is required on the pr’ ms moment—for the.quick luncheon or supper, for the hot eh ; “snack”? a-motoring or boating or camping; for warming baby’s milk or heating water for father’s shave. I Act on this offer Beginning Monday, July 19th, 1920, and continuing for 10 days only, STERNo CaNNED Heat will be given FREE to every purchaser of either style of the new, handsome STERNO ALUMINUM STOVES These newest and finest Sterno Cooking Appliances will de- light the tidy housewife. Made of purest, brightest, hardest aluminum, Ster- no Aluminum Stoves embody the beauty of de- sign and trouble- saving features that have made Sterno Devices the joy of the housewife. Uf your dealer cannot supply you, send ws coupon and check or miney order | S. STERNAU & CO., Inc 9 East 37th Street, New York San Francisce Sales Office 10 California Street Canadion Sales Agent Haron F. Rircuit & Co, Ltd. 10 McCaul Toromto, Canada Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 129 Cans — Sterne Sterne » Sterno Sterno | i REE. | Speck at Stern : \' ( : 2 _ > only iff prevented within ‘ | to July 28th, 1920

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ONEY, to bear fruit, must be sown carefully in tested soil. Any bond, or note, or preferred stock will not do. The National City Company’s monthly list represents only securities that have been thoroughly investigated and judged as to soundness. Our nation-wide organization and world-wide affiliation permit us to offer you a very unusual diversity of invest- ment opportunities. We are always glad at any one of our 50 Correspondent Offices to help you make selections to fit your individual needs. Let us send you our current list of well- chosen securities, which at present prices offer attractive yields. Ask for O-128. The National City Company National City Bank Building, New York A NATIONAL INVESTMENT SERVICE— More than 50 correspondent offices in the leading cities, connected by about 10,000 miles of private wires Sow your money carefully Scientific yet easy to old or young. ALi M page free “How the L. QUINN CONSERVATORY, Studio (7, 598 Columbia Road, Bestes, 25, Mass. | C. W. Ransom, = GRASS RUGS This Interesti ¥ree Beok shows how you can A skilled Ta of NM ororgan in your own bome, at ONE-QUARTER USUAL CUBT. Dr. Quinn's famous Written 26 years. Wlay chords AT ONCE and piece im every key, WITHIN 4 Fully For beginners or UBSIC FREE. Diploma granted. “rite foday for 64+ Learn Piano or Organ.”’ ver y THE IDEAL FLOOR COV- IN TOWN AND. COUNTRY ALL YEAR ROUND Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 ‘As objects I designate all small parts of matter detached from the earth, such as loose stones and so forth, whether or not they have been subjected to mechan- ical treatment by man. “Under elements I group not only the sun, rain, wind, sea, and soforth, but the earth and all its mineral properties. The objects are really a subdivision of this class. “‘Every one of God’s creatures, when its change of sphere occurs— that is, when you have discarded it because its obvious use is at an end— comes to us here and appears transformed to its most beautiful, though that beauty itself develops infinitely. That which seems to you to be decay is the man- made addition to God’s truth. . . . “As to the articles manufactured by man from things pertaining to various _ classes, these articles fall under the head- ings to which their ingredients previously belonged, excepi—and this is most im- portant— that when man has beautified | the article by love and the infusing of his own personality, then that article becomes | ‘art.’ As such, it develops a new life and | is changed into a more advanced form. ‘Our definition of art is the loving use of | God-given instruments for the furthering | of good. As art, I class all man’s activities undertaken with pure motives. Thus, business, manufacturing, 1 ining, shipping, cleaning, cooking, studying, teaching are all art; and the foundation of art is love.” Briefly indicated, we have here the out- line of a universe in which dynamic uni- versal life is interpreted in terms of dyna- mic mutual good intention. That this co- operative creation should have apparently “gone wrong” is traced to the misdirection of intelligence. In~this, the creature of highest endowment led the way, those of lesser following. Intelligence must be free to use or misuse itself; otherwise it would not be intelligence. That the Creator, as the unthinking often urge, might have made a world in which nothing could have revolted from his will would have meant the invention of a mere mechanical device. The value of all obedience is in freedon to disobey. The task before us lies, there- | fore, in rediscovering the original motive and, as far as the individual has it in tis power, working back to it. III As it would be easy here to lose our- selves in the multiplicity of ends that might be sought, we must keep our attention fixed on that one we have in mind. Dynamic life being the source of all activity, we are concerned just now only with the search for its laws of immortality. I ask my reader to note that it is not the laws them- selves that form the subject of this article but the search. Even with regard to the search, we must limit ourselves to the justification of going on with it. So many of the influences we most respect would restrict us to the demonstration of death rather than of life that we must have as clearly as may be in our minds our reasons for claiming the latter privilege. Here again we must fix a limitation. Of the restricting influences we are bound to respect, space compels me to be content with the religious. Roughly speaking, they group themselves as two, the religious and the scientific, the first being by far the more intense in its opposition. The con- cept of immortality coming within the field 130 all | | | | | | | | 1 | | HE | li | Hz | = AL Ci LEARN PIANO! | TEACH tie WMUfl ‘eee is endo: oy mus BY MAIL #2 4 I won World's First Prize for best course} SS : in Penmanship. Under my guidance you can atthe 424 Eesex Bidg.,KansasCity.Mo.

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 “Hang it, James, we haven't a chance in the world to make that train now. Why couldn’t you have had four Kelly-Spring fields on the car instead of three a 131 | WY, Al OG A> = b | | AS

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EVANS SONOOL OF ey CARTOONING, 839 Leader Bidg., Cleveland, Ohio it Las specially made its own it could hardly do otherwise than object to the modern invasion of its domain. And yet the impartial reader finds in the charter documents of Christianity a mass of most important material which, so it seems to him, the Christian body at large should either make the attempt to explain or demonstrate or have the courage to give up. As some of it is too fundamental to be given up, there would seem to be the greater need to have it demonstrated or explained. For centuries, this appeal, or this challenge— call it which you will— has been put up to the Christian Church, to be received with a lethargy which is, in turn, inducing what looks like a creeping par- alysis. If ever there was a time when the hearts of the nations should have turned to God through those mediums which claim specially to represent him, it has been in the last six years. When the wat began, we had foretold to us a spiritual revival that would renew the vigor of the Churches. It has not come about. On the other hand, there is this extraordinary movement, part- ly religious and partly scientific in its ori- gin, at which the old-fashioned scientist scoffs and the old-fashioned religionist stands aghast, but which apparently is no more to be controlled than the impulse of the spring. When called to the bar and bidden to prove its so-called discoveries, it turns to the Churches and says, “‘I ask you, as the first on the field and really claiming to speak with divine authority, to prove yours.” The demand is not unreasonable. The refusal to comply with it is, I think, fundamental to the whole phenomenon of ecclasiastical decay. What I mean is this: The Old and New Testaments abound in occurrences which, had they happened nowadays, would have been taken as evidences of unknown laws of life, or else been classed under the com- prehensive heading, “psychic.” With a single exception, that of Saul and the Witch of Endor, they are not only free from the sinister but reported in a spirit of commendation. That they were looked upon by contemporary writers as ‘‘mir- acles,” wonders not to be explained, is no reason for not trying to explain them in an age impatient of the inexplicable. It being understood. as in these days we do understand, that nothing happens | except in obedience to law, by what law | did Jesus Christ restore to life the daughter of Jairus, the son of the widow of Nain, and | Lazarus, who had been four days in his | grave? By what law did Paul do the same for Eutychus and Peter the same for Tabitha? By what law did the dead come out of their tombs on the first Good Friday, later entering the holy city and appearing unto‘many? By what law did the Master himself, after three days in the sepulcher, gather his spiritual strength together and rise again? By what law did he appear with flesh and bones, so that hands could handle him? By what law did he not only talk with his disciples but eat with them? By what law was he enabled to return, in what seems like a spiritualized material form, not only to small numbers but to over five hundred at one time? If these things were so, and practically all Chris- tians believe them to have been so, how were they accomplished? If Paul could call a man, and Peter a woman, out of death, the advanced Christian of to-day should Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 be able to do the same more easily, since he has behind him two thousand years of accumulated spiritual energy. It is easy to dispose of these instances as many do, by saying that they never happened; but I am addressing myself to those who believe, as I do, that they did happen and that the pen of truth recorded them. I repeat, then, that, if they ever hap- pened, they happened according to law; and if they happened according to law, they could happen again. That is the point, and it cannot be made too emphatic. It is evident that Peter and Paul under- stood at least something of that law, and were able to put it into operation. All our experience goes to show that where even the rudimentary elements of a law are known, patient application will dis- close more of it. It is not a mere fancy to feel sure that, had the Christian body been faithful to its trust, we should by this time be in possession of a science of immortality through which death would be no more to us now than to him who died on the cross and rose again. As a matter of fact, no attempt is being made anywhere in the Christian world to demonstrate the most remarkable law ever hinted at to man except on the part of the Spiritualists and those who, while not Spiritualists, are interested in supersensu- ous phenomena. When you ask for a pres- ent active proof of dynamic life, Christians as a whole can do nothing but refer you toa document of which the closing word was written nineteen hundred years ago. They have had no experience since that time, and on him who would try to get such experience, the majority turn their broadside of denunciation or they 6ffer him a cold shoulder. This is not reasonable. Admitting that the attempts of the Spiritualists are wrong, they are surely better than no attempt at all. It is an axiom of modern energy that effort is more important than success. No law was ever followed up except by striking wrong trails before hitting on the right one. But to strike any trail at all is worthier the energies of man than to lie back and de- clare that nothing can be done. IV Ir will be arguéd, ‘with some justice, that between the cases I have cited from the New Testament and the forms of super- sensuous appeal that have taken hold of people at the present day there,is all the difference between the majestic and the trivial. Imagine a world in which the whole art of drawing and painting had gone out of existence with Raphael and Michelangelo. Imagine the works of these great artists to have been destroved, and nothing left of their beauty but descriptive accounts by men who had seen them. Imagine the human race to have been deprived of any knowledge of crayon or pencil, paint-brush or paint. Then imagine a group of children stumbling on a way by which they could make use of all. We should probably, in that case, have an extremely primitive art; but it would give us the first faint intimations of what Raphael and Michelangelo had previously. : achieved. It would furnish us with the means of creeping up again and doing . once more in the long run the great things Co: 132 | wa ~ ke Ma SS | Sponish-french-English-Italian A > We will not give you any grand prize y if you answer this ad. Nor will 2 ~ we claim to make you rich in a week. But if you are anxious to develop your talent with @ suc- cessful cartoonist, 80 youcan make ..

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Cosmopolitan fcr July, 1920 The Columbia Six Five Passenger Touring Car Beauty that comes from sound, vigorous, physical condition is last- ing beauty. This is why the charm of all five Columbia models endures season after season. Touring Car, Sport Model, Road- ster, Coupe and Sedan. Works With Vim In spite of the present noisy clamor of a small minority of work haters, the destinies of our old world are still controlled, and always will be, by men who put an extra measure of ability and enthusiasm into their work. You will find it difficult to convince a Columbia Six owner that his car does not take real human enjoyment in its job. It is the extra measure of vim and endurance which the Columbia Six puts into its work that makes owning and driving one a lasting pleasure. Besides honest, dependable, oversize, extra quality construction all the way through, there are a number of exclusive Columbia fea- tures which account for its wonderful vitality. The self-acting temperature controlling radiator shutters keep the motor happy the year round and able to do its best work. The Columbia Six non-synchronizing spring suspension guards both the car and its occupants against vitality sapping road shocks. If you like a willing worker, you will like the Columbia Six. COLUMBIA MOTORS. COMPANY DETROIT, U. Si “Tae Germ 133 po

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That is, I take it, where the effort to rediscover the lost laws which demonstrate man to be immortal stands to-day. Where Christians as Christians have abandoned the search, surely scientists, philosophers, private men and women, and even boys and girls cannot be blamed for taking it up, even if they do it the wrong way. That the movement of which we are speaking has accomplished good must, I think, be evident to any but the prejudiced. To a large extent it has given us the fulal- ment, or the bezinning of fulfilment, of that revived interest in spiritual things for which we look in vain elsewhere. It has made the spiritual life what it has not been for centuries past, a leading interest of the day. It kas made the concept of immor- tality a living one. It is no longer left to Easter-Sunday anthems or between the pages of a sacred book. It has given to thousands of people a sense of the extension of their powers, which is in itself an enhancement of being. It has taken’from the minds of many that terror of death which had seemed to be invincible. The hints that have “come over” of continuous life amid conditions to which we can adjust ourselves are easier to assimilate than the interpretations of Scriptural imagery of which our nurses made such facile and liberal use. To die and go to heaven was to a healthy mind but a shade less appalling than to die and go to hell. The whole proceeding, with its sudden and violent transfer to scenes and duties to which we knew ourselves unfitted, lacked the most convincing of all appeals, that to common sense. The destiny whether to bliss or punishment so trans- cended our possibilities that no one could face it without fear. Buta condition which is but one step in advance of our actual life commends itself to our reason; and such a condition is described with curious | unanimity by most of the writings which come, let us say, from the subliminal. I am not now concerned with the authentic- ity of these messages but with their tenor. The life to which they bid us look forward is one for which we know we have the necessary faculties. We can go up by de- grees. The first phase of the spiritual is not to be so different from the last phase of the material; and so insensibly we grow reconciled. Thus, if a revival of religion, as we com- monly understand the phrase, has not tak- en place, a revival of interest in spiritual things most certainly has. It has come, as such things generally do, from a direction whence we were not expecting it, and is both deep and wide-spread. Perhaps, when all is said and done, the great benefit which the new movement may be considered to have wrought is in calling the attention of the Christian body at large to its own impossible position. It is not, in the expressive idiom of the plain man of the street, “delivering the goods” it promises. It is one thing in theory and another in effect. On the most radical of all charters, it. bases the most conservative of all states of rind. Year after year, it will gravely and stolidly read the com- mands with which the Master sent out the Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 first detachment of his disciples: “Heal the sick; cleanse the lepers; raise the dead; cast out devils,” and rarely give a thought to doing any of the four. I make one reserve in saying this, for ] do know a body of Christians who are try- ing this practical demonstration of spir- itual law and achieving much success. But I speak in general. Christians as a whole neglect the stupendous phenomena of which they are the guardians, and which it is their essential mission to repeat. Re- fusing the Master’s commission themselves, they would hinder those who try to fulfil it. As I write, the Churches are busy mak- ing “drives” for souls, unity, and money. Much effort and much prayer have been put into rousing a spirit of campaign. But is anything to come of so great an expendi- ture of energy? Does it not seem like pushing a machine that will not use the motor-power built into it? Very respect- fully, and yet perhaps pertinently, we re- call the message sent through John in ‘Patmos to the first of the seven churches: “T know thy works, and thy labour, and thy patience, and how thou canst not bear them which are evil. . . . Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works.” Vv Yet the power of doing the first works is not easy to recapture when we have left it far behind us. While it is a principle that the law which has worked once will work again, and that lost knowledge can be re- discovered, yet it stands to reason that the way which leads back must be hard to re- trace when choked with nineteen centuries of undergrowth. There is a way; for, if there was not a way, the Master would never have told us to go and raise the dead, and no apostle could have done it. To find that way again is, it seems to me, the most imperative among all the imperative tasks before the Church and the world to-day. That this paper can disclose the secret of how it may be done is not to be expected.. Nevertheless, I venture to revert to the concept with which I started, that of a co- operative universe instinct with dynamic life. All laws are within that reservoir. They are for us to discover and make use of. Some of them we have grasped with no small profit to ourselves; but the point, I venture to think, at which we lose our way is in making a distinction between spiritual law and natural. We are always inclined to see the uni- verse as two, and not as one, which is a contradiction in terms. The essence of the universe, as I hinted above, is unity. We attempt to classify where there is no class. We separate such laws as those which enable us to impel vehicles, to carry the human voice over distances, to take the force of cataracts to lizht towns, to trans- mit our thoughts through the trackless air—we separate such laws from those which govern the spiritual life as though they belonged to different creations. In our common way of thinking, the spiritual is one thing and the physical another, apart even when not antagonistic. We shall never, I think, reach that-law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus. which renders us free from the law of sin and Co: 134 R =, “4 | = ne Touc! CARMEN ARMEN( | j packing for Purse 3 weeks’ sup- | bly—state shade preferred. STAFFORD-MELLER CO., St. Louis, Me. bed D ar | tents. mailed 4 free. POPULARITY _ FOLLOWS THE PSUKULELE Vv a3 you will be wanted everywhere. We ay. ny teach by mail 20 simple lessons; bing furnish you_with every Course SEL TALI @ genuine Hawaiian Ukulele. bet - <xtras, Ask us to send the ator of _ absolutely free |

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20 Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 135 ead; ight or try- pir- ess. iS a ena lich Re- 7es, lit. ak- ey. Sut di- ike he ct- i re- in nd ar se er id is it t When it’s ° in the Shade” ) | 90° in the Shade ) No matter how hot the weather, how extreme the conditions, or how long the drive—the Remy thermostat prevents your storage bat- tery from becoming overcharged. Overheating due to overcharging is the greatest cause of storage battery troubles. But such overcharging is impossible with Remy. This Remy thermostat, which works accord- ing to the temperature, also provides the extra i amount of current necessary to keep the bat- Remy feature. | In winter the > Thermostat mak at tery charged when cold weather comes. Remy equipment “works in the winter’—as well as | charged. In summer it makes the generator output low to pre- in the summer. vent the battery overcharging, Remy Evecrric Company, ANDERSON, INDIANA IGNITION SYSTEMS STARTING LIGHTING

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No skin is so fine-textured but that Nysis Talcum will cling smoothly to it, producing a scarcely visible veil against the light-rays which, acting upon the inner, or true skin, cause sunburn. Obtainable at NYAL AGENCIES (12,000 Drug Stores) Everywhere AGRA Parfumeur Detroit, Michigan fer —hung with silken folds , To artfully guard this beauty rare i *Gainst insolent wind and sun's bold stare.—Nizami In the sun of beach, or links, or tennis court, ia the whipping, dust-laden wind of the motor road NYSIS TALCUM protects the complexion of today’s fair daughter: keeps her skin smooth, soft, and youthfully fresh. The entrancing odor of Nysis Talcum individualizes these other Nysis Toilet- ries: PARFUM FACE POWDER TOILET WATER VANISHING CREAM COLD CREAM Comfort Baby’s Skin With Cuticura Soap And Fragrant Talcum rage Fenton Seals They stick where you od them. Printed on the sons Fenton Label Co., Ine. 506-512 Race St., Phila., Pa. The Best Oil is Cheapest There’s not much difference in price be- tween ordinary oils and Havoline Oil— but there’s a real difference in service. It will pay you to ask for your grade of Havoline—the oil that heat won’t break up. It protects and preserves your motor. Get it in the sealed containers. INDIAN REFINING COMPANY (incorporated) NEW YORK An independent company that produces and refines its own petroleum OIL “It makes a difference” Cosmopolitan for July 1920 death till we take it as inherent in the system in which we find all other laws. For such purposes as we have in mind, the universe, dynamic life, and the love of God. might be taken as synonymous, an endless storehouse of endless potentialities for endless good. In that field, we are all searchers according to our gifts. One man . discovers there how to overcome sin by righteousness and another how to nullify distance by telegraphy; but they are supplementary to each other and coopera- tive. Rightly understood, Abraham, Davy- id, Isaiah, Matthew, Peter, John, Bacon, Newton, Marconi, Edison, Henry Ford, with all others of the noble army who con- tribute to the comfort and blessing of man- kind, are serving the same Master. They are obeying his command to discover law and put it into operation. Each becomes a cooperative unit in a cooperative uni- verse, and what St. Paul calls a ‘“worker- together” with God. This privilege of working together with God—that is, working in harmony with the rest of the dynamic love which is the life of the universe— is the only means that I know anything about by which lost laws can be found again. Harmony is its only method, and so much has been written of that during twenty years that I need add nothing on the subject now. It is a pity that there is no new and arresting phrase for thinking and doing right, because that jis what harmony amounts to. And be- cause it only amounts to that, a great many people turn away from the suggestion as being a familiar singsong. But right, after all, is only the right way of doing things, and admits of no variation. With no varia- tion in substance, there can be none in ex- pression, with the result that there is nothing much to add to what everyone has beard since infancy. What has not been said so often, per- haps, is that, for the refinding of lost law, moral goodness alone cannot be sufficient. If it were, the works performed by Peter and John would be commoner than they are. When we have uttered the harshest word that can be leveled at the Church, her success in producing the highest type of character has still to be admitted. But while the highest type of character is essential, it is not enough. The force be- yond n oral goodness which they who ac- tually raised the dead must have possessed is the topic I shall deal with next. Of this paper, the point is simply that the power to raise the dead must bein existence. The Christian is not at liberty to think otherwise. Not that the raising of the dead can be the end of the law in itself. It is not an end; it is only an indication. Great as is the triumph it implies, it can be no more than the evidence of a wider possibility— the abolition of death altogether. That that abolition is the salvation we are bidden to work out seems to me the ultimate aim of both the Testaments. Dynamic life must be free of death in any form; and whatever draws our attention to that as a law existent in creation must be regarded as a boon. In the concluding paper of this series, The Sound Mind, in August Cos- mopclitan, Mr. King discusses a great force within us—‘‘the divine passion which seeks nothing better- than to urge us forward.” Freed from the handicap of our fears and inhibitions, it would enable us, he be- lieves, to exercise powers we dare not to-day acknowledge as possible. Cos! 136 ~) vax Le = 9 1 ¥ Al Fenton » Seals Stick {

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 A Taxi Record The Hudson Taxi Co. of De- troit reported last year an average of 15,000 miles from Miller Cords in this hard serv- ice. Lately they report that some Miller Tires are giving 25,000 miles. igs ~ Tread Patented Center tread smooth, with suction cups to firmly grasp wet as- phalt. Geared-to-the- Road side treads mesh like cogs in dirt. THE MILLER RUBBER CO. Akron, Ohio Also makers of Miller Inner Tubes, MILEAGE nec For Tees 137 Mileage Records That Made Miller Tires the Sensation Since 1914, the average mileage of Miller Tires has been more than doubled Hundreds of thousands have found this out and told the facts to others. And the demand for Miller Tires in that time has mul- tiplied twenty-fold. Every year the swing to Millers gains momentum. This year’s increase at the present rate will exceed $25,000,000. The time iias come when every tire user owes himself a test of these new-grade tires. Supreme Tests In the past few years, thousanc's of large users have been making comparisons. Some have made million-mile tests. As high as 21 makes have been compared with the Millers on stage lines, trucks and taxis. As a result, Miller Tires are now used ex- clusively in some of the hardest services. They are used on the largest Pacific Coast stage lines. They are used on roads which heretofore made pneumatic-tired stages impossible. In some of the hardest tests they have excelled all rivals by margins almost unbe- lievable. Amazing Records A new-grade tread, perfected by Miller, has in countless factory tests excelled the best of others by 25 per cent. Cords Miller Inner Tubes, built layer on layer, have created a new tube standard. Such tire uniformity has been attained that in some large centers last year not a single Miller Tire was returned for adjust- ment. How We Did It For 24 years the Miller 1actory has special- ized in fine rubber. Ten yéars ago, when we started tire building, we resolved to attain a super-grade of tire. We keep 250 tires constantly running under observation. When a tire excels or a tire falls down we learn the reason for it. For years every Miller Tire has been signed. Every tire that comes back is traced to maker and inspector. And experts search the fault. We spend $1,000 daily in watching and testing. our materials and tires. We spend $300 daily just to test cotton materials. And every lot of tread stock is first vulcanized and tested in our laboratory. These careful methods, continued for years, have produced a tire you should know. Try a Miller on your car and watch it. You will gain a new conception of what modern tires can do. Miller Tires Geared-to-the-Road Reg. U. S. Pat. Office F abrics The Most Talked-About Tires in America the ind, e of ae a 3 ties av- on- in- ley aw ni- er- ith ith he at WS of ld se at e- ly 1S or is ¥ > Ww,

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138 CUSHION RUBBER HEELS INVENTORS write ‘for OUF book, “How Get ‘atent.” Send model or sketch of invention for eien of patentable nature. RANDOLPH & CO. Dept. 33 Washington, D. C. UP to the present time it has been almost impossible to get a face pow- der to stay on longer than it takes to put it on. You powder your nose nicely an the first gust of wind or the first puff of your handkerchief and away goes the pow- der, leaving your nose shiny and conspicu- ous, probably just when you would give anything to appear at your best. A specialist has perfected a pure powder that really stays on; that stays on until you wash it off. It does not contain white lead or rice powder to make it stay on. This improved formula contains } a medicinal powder doctors pre- scribe to improve the complex- § ion. In fact, this powder helps to prevent and reduce enlarged pores and irritations. This un- What Cat’s Paw Heels mean to her in her round of daily duties. There are no holes to track mud or dirt. No heel marks on the polished floor. And—most ant of all— import- And makes them wear longer than the ordinary kind. ; Cat’s Paws of your black, or tan—for men, women and children. FOSTER RUBBER CO. 105 Federal Street, Boston, Mass. Qideger: and Patentees of the ‘oster Friction Plug which prevents slipping. INS YDE TYRES, --genuine inner armor for auto tires. Double mileage; usual powder is called La-may (French, Poudre L’Amé). Because La-may is so pure and because it stays on so well, it is already used by over a million American women. All dealers carry the large sixty- cent box and many dealers also carry the generous thirty-cent size. When you use this harmless powder and see how beau- tifully it improves your complexion you will understand why La-may so quickly became the most popu- lar beauty powder sold in New * York. Women who have tried =} all kinds of face powder say they f cannot buy a better powder any- where at any price. There is also a wonderful La-may talcum which sells for only thirty cents. Herbert Roystone, Dept. N, 16 East 18th St., New York. Cosmopolitan for July, 1020 Cousins of Convenience (Continued from page 31) news. She rose from her seat and put her hand on his shoulder. ““What’s the matter, popper?” she said gently. ‘‘Ain’t you well?” Her uneasiness communicated itself to Regensburger, who had also risen from his chair and had begun to tiptoe out of the office. To be sure, his experience of people going suddenly insane had been gleaned only from screen-versions of such a tragedy as exhibited at the Vendome Theater, They may or may not have been medically accurate, but they had certainly always been fraught with serious consequences for the person against whom the insane person had a grievance, and Regensburger was not at all reassured when Simon called after him, “Here—where are you going?” “Why, I thought that maybe you would better talk this thing over with your wife, Mr. Permasenzky,” he said, “‘and——” “And nothing!’’ Simon broke in. “If you think I am crazy, see what it says here in the paper.” He handed the newspaper to Mrs. Permasenzky and indicated the story of the rescue with his thumb. “‘Here—read it,” he said, and, as she did so, it was surprising how quickly her cheeks regained their normal color. In fact, they more than regained it, and her face was flaming red when she put down the paper. “‘T don’t believe it,” she declared, hand- ing the paper to Regensburger. “Ths a bluff.” “What do vou mean—‘a bluff?’” Simon cried. ‘‘Ain’t the name Permasenzky the same and everything.” “Suppose it is the same?”’ Mrs. Perma- senzky retorted. “That don’t prove nothing.” “Don’t prove nothing!’’’ Simon ex- claimed. ‘‘Why, do you, for one moment, think there could be éwo different families in the whole world with such a name?” '. “The whole world is a big contract, Mr. Permasenzky,” Regensburger said, “which if you would got any experience in the moving-picture business, you would know that if the ‘heavy’ in a moving-picture scenario would be called even Tzvee Cha- roses even, it’s practically a twenty-to-one shot that somebody by. the name Tzvee Charoses would write to say that he un- derstood his name was being used in a mov- ing picture, and that if it wasn’t discon- tinued without further notice, he would instruct his lawyer to take such steps as he would think proper to protect his inter- ests in the matter.” “Then I am a liar, then,”’ Simon said. “T didn’t say you was a liar exactly,” Regensburger apologized; “‘but, at the same time, just because a baby’s name is. Permasenzky don’t prove that his family is related to you.’ “Maybe it don’t,” Simon admitted. “But I have investigated about this here Jake Per- masenzky, and the little feller is the Rav’s great-grandson; so, Mr. Regensburger, if vou are expecting me to advance Fishbein and Hirshkind two thousand dollars to bay from vou a moving-picture theayter, let me tell you that, hereafter and from now on, Cos = | CATS FAW he Foster Friction Plug | prevent sipping CATS Pay |

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Lf it isn’t an Eastman, it isn’t a Kodak. Eastman Kodak Company, Rochester, N. Y., Zhe Kodak City | 139 Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 020 the ople aned pedy ays : s for | f rson was led | rife ue ere ‘ of she er In er wn d- on he | a- t, es I. h € | | e e d {

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Write fos ree Three Sizes: 60c, $1.00, $2.06 A: ali toilet counters us, in plain wrapper, on receip! of €: je $r noe or $2.08, which includes DeMiracle Dept P-11, Park Ave. and 129th St., New York WE TEACH COMMERCIAL The Meyer Both College is conducted as a Department of the Meyer Both Company, the most widely known commercial art organiza- tion in the field, who produced and sold last oy over 12.600 commercial drawings—used the leading advertisers of the United States and Canada. YOU get the benefits of 19 years’ successful experience in this course—and are taught the very fundamentals which en- abled this organization to domi- nate its field. To give you facts you ought to know about this intensely interesting, highly paid profession—(equally open to men and women ore will send our special book, ““YOUR OPPORTUNITY,” if you will pay half the cost of ets in stamps. Meyer Both Callege of C of Commencial Art N. E. an at 20th St., CHICAGO, ILL. all the spare money which I couldn’t use it in my home or my business I would have use of it in supporting my own relations and not my wife’s.” “You wouldn’t positively do nothing of the kind!” Mrs. Permasenzky declared. “An idea! Do you think I am going to let you throw away your savings which I scrimped and worked to help you make on people which you ain’t known only since this morning and which I ain’t even seen at all?” “But you are going to see them, mom- mer,” Simon said. ‘“‘I am going to take you down there to-morrow afternoon yet.” “To-morrow afternoon I’ve got an en- gagement, and so have you,” Mrs. Per- masenzky said firmly. ‘‘To-morrow after- noon at three o’clock, Mr. Regensburger and his lawyer would be here with a paper for the sale of that moving-picture theay- ter. Harris and Milton would also be here, and you are going to loan them the money to pay for it, too.” “But, mommer leben, if you would only see them poor miserable people once!” “Them people was poor and miserable without your help for so long, they could be poor and miserable a little longer yet,” Mrs. Permasenzky said; ‘‘so I would ex- pect to see you here to-morrow afternoon at three o’clock, Mr. Regensburger, be- cause if a married man is going to help out poor relations with the idea that blood is redder than water, y’understand, the wife’s | | blood is just as red as the husband’s blood.” “Ts it?” Simon said. ‘Well, I’ll show you differently, mommer. You and me has been married for twenty-five years now, and I never yet refused you any- thing.” “Except money,” Mrs. Permasenzky said. “And I never yet refused you any- thing,” Permasenzky repeated emphatic- ally; ‘“‘but all I’ve got to say to you both is: you could come here to-morrow after- noon, and them two Schuorrers could come here also, and you could have as many lawyers as you want to, but you will be wasting your time, because, so far as I am concerned, the deal is off.” “Say,’”’ Regensburger said, “‘if the deal is off, the deal is off; but as I promised Fish- bein and Hirschkind that I would be here to-morrow afternoon, I couldn’t go back on it. So I tell you what I'll do, Mr. Permasenzky: For my own satisfaction, and to satisfy your wife here, have them poor family nebich here to-morrow after- noon, and I give you my word and honor as a gentleman, v’understand, if they are as poor as you say they are, not only would I be the first one to admit that you should help them in preference to your wife’s relations but I would also give the father a job in my theayter vet. Now, what could be fairer than that?” “But I don’t care how poor they are—”’ Mrs. Permasenzky began. “Maybe you don’t,” Regensburger said; “but your husband is your husband, and I, for one, ain’t going to come between you.” He beamed benevolently at Simon. ‘T’ll see you to-morrow afternoon at three o’clock,” he said in farewell, and when, half an hour later, Simon tried to find the address of the poverty-stricken Perma- senzkys, so that he might notify them to be on hand, he was obliged to send down- town to the office of the newspaper in order to get a duolicate of the copy he Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 | had shown Regensburger, because, when Regensburger had left, the copy of the newspaper had left with him. IV WHEN Simon Permasenzky went down- town to his office the following day, he experienced the same sensations as the. farmer who was driving into the city to get drunk—unless he could successfully appeal to his wife’s kindness of heart with the spectacle of those destitute namesakes of his, he was going to buy Harris Fishbein and Milton Hirschkind a moving-picture theater, and, great Scott, how he dreaded it! To besure, there is no law that compels a husband to buy his wife’s relations a moving-picture theater if he doesn’t want to, but after advancing this argument to her many times and far into the night, Simon was convinced that, in his case at least, it was entirely without validity. The socially and economically sub- merged Permasenzkys were his last chance, . and so strongly did he realize this that he had intended to devote three of his busi- est morning hours to visiting the tenement on East Twenty-second Street for the pur- pose of perfecting Koppel and his family in their réles of destitute cousins. Unfortu- nately, however, no sooner had he arrived at his office than he was inundated with customers, and it was not until half-past twelve that -he could pause long enough to get a bite of lunch and to send an office- boy with a message to Koppel. After all, he reflected, as he munched a rye-bread tongue sandwich in Wasser- bauer’s restaurant, their mere presence would be enough. In fact, when he thought — of those three anemic children, his appe- tite, which had almost failed him at the prospect of being. bereft of two thousand dollars, revived, and he ordered another tongue sandwich. Later, when he remem- bered the pinched, blue features of Kop- pel’s wife, he felt so confident of the out- come that he practically dismissed the en- tire matter from his mind. It returned, however, with all the old anxiety when, promptly at three o’clock, Mrs. Perma- senzky entered his office. With her was Harris Fishbein in a 1916- model gray suit which had disappeared mysteriously from Simon’s wardrobe in 1918, and for which, at intervals, Simon had continued to search high and low ever since. Behind Harris came Milton Hirsch- kind, who, as the prospective purchaser of a moving-picture theater, wore a_ well- fitting brown suit, the material of which Simon immediately recognized. It had . been skilfully cut down from a suit of Simon’s that Mrs. Permasenzky claimed to | have sold for two dollars to a second-hand dealer upon the specious ground that moths had got into it and that Simon never wore it, anyway. Mr. Regensburger, however, wore his ordinary remarkable garments, save that he had discarded the Edgar Allan Poe black stock in favor of a low-cut collar from which cascaded a large Windsor tie. For this he had excellent precedents in the photographs of Bizet and Wagner, but for the manner and appearance of the person with the leather brief-case who accom- panied Mr. Regensburger, no precedent had been consulted. He was his own ideal of a smart, snappy legal adviser, and Permasenzky, with a 140 | a DeMiracle Vepuat j | | | | N | | (|

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 sinking heart, recognized him as such as soon as he opened his mouth and said, “Where are these alleged relations of your husband’s, Mrs. Permasenzky?”’ ‘“What do you mean—‘alleged?’” Simon demanded. ain’t going into that now, popper,” Mrs. Permasenzky said. “First, you would better look over them papers which Mr. Fixberg has got with him.” “T ain’t going to look over nothing,” Simon said firmly, waving away the con- tract of conditional sale which Mr. Fixberg, junior partner of the firm of Fixberg & Fixberg, was taking from his brief-case. “But I thought—” Mr. Fixberg began; but Regensburger headed him off. “My word is my word,” he said, “and I never go back onit. Mr. Permasenzky has a right to choose which relations he would help out—his own or his wife’s. So there is nothing to be done till his own relations arrive.” ‘And when they do come,” Simon con- tinued, “I ain’t going to have them cross- examined by your lawyer neither, Mr. Regensburger. Them poor people nebich has suffered enough as it is.” ‘“‘ My lawyer!” Regensburger exclaimed. “Excuse me, but Mr. Fixberg is Mrs. Per- masenzky’s lawyer.” ‘Your lawyer?” Simon said, turning to his wife. . “Sure he’s my lawyer,” Mrs. Perma- senzky said. ‘And for your protection, popper, not mine. Why, what do you think I am going to let these people bam- boozle vou like that?” ‘*What do you mean—‘ bamboozle’ me?” Simon demanded. Why, this here Kop- pel is the living image of my uncle Jake, and don’t you suppose I could remember a father’s own brother Jake looked ike. “Well, I don’t know,” Mrs. Permasen- zky said. “For twenty-five years you couldn’t remember your father’s brother Jake good enough to mention his name to me even; so how should I know if you remember him good enough to recognize his son oder not?” “T would recognize that feller anvwheres at any time,” Simon deciared, as the office door ‘opened. ‘‘A man’s own flesh and blood he would be able to tell by instinct in the dark already, and—excuse me, is there anvthing I could do for you?” He addressed a somewhat foppish-look- ing person, who stood hesitatingly in the doorway, clad in a well-fitting morning coat, and when Simon noted the pearl-gray Alpine hat, striped trousers, and patent- leather shoes which went with it, he at once spotted his visitor for the buver of a ladies’ specialty shop. “Tt’s all right,” the visitor said. wait till you get through.” “Not at all,” Simon said, rising from his chair. “T’ll get a salesman for you right away, Mister—er—— ” “T see you don’t remember me,” visitor said. “Certainly I remember you,’ said Si- mon, who, by this time, had observed that the patent-leather shoes had tan tops on them. “Just step | this way, Mister-er——”’ “ Permasenzky,” the visitor said. ‘‘ Kop- pel Permasenzky, and I’ve got my wife and children outside.” He went back to the door as Simon sank limply into his chair. “Come on in, mommer. Come in, Kin- der. Don’t be afraid,” he said, and, in “T can the response to his invitation, there entered Mrs. Koppel Permasenzky, miraculously transformed by good corseting and a tailor-made suit from a famine sufferer into one of the patronesses of a bazaar for the benefit of famine sufferers. As for the two boys, any parents, up to and including Mr. and Mrs. John D. Rockefeller, junior, could have been proud of the appearance they presented. Mrs. Simon Permasenzky was the first to break the impressive silence which greeted these fashionable visitors. “ Ain’t there also a baby?” she said. “We didn’t want to bother you by bringing the baby here,” Koppel explained. “But I thought the baby was such a good baby. I thought when the fireman carried the baby down the fire-escape, there wasn’t a sound out of it,”’ Mrs. Per- masenzky commented, with an ironic em- phasis that, upon any ordinary occasion, ’ would have provoked one of those family rows of which, speaking in the retrospect, the participants say that one word led to another. In the present harrowing contin- gency, however, Simon was too busy trying to fight off an attack of apoplexy which impended from this flagrant breach of good faith on the part of Koppel “Faker!” he bellowed at last. ‘What do you mean by coming here looking like | this?” “What do you mean what do I mean by looking like this?” Koppel retorted. ‘‘ How should I look when I am coming to visit my cousin’s wife for the first time?”’ It then suddenly occurred to Simon that, in agreeing to pay Koppel twelve dollars a week for a minimum of eight weeks to act as a relation, nothing had been said about acting as a poor relation, and Simon pro- ceeded to repair this omission. “Don’t throw me no bluffs,” he shouted. “Them clothes don’t fool nobody, which if these people could see you the way you looked at home yesterday, might would think you was a millionaire.” “My Tsuris what they think,” Koppel said, “because in that house where I live, there is twenty-four families already, and if them people would see me dressed up like this, such Bolsheviks they are that, before I could collect a cent of rent out of them, I would got to bring every month dis- possess proceedings against every one of them.” “So,” Simon commented, “you are the janitor, then?” For a brief interval, it looked as though | Simon’s impending apoplexy had_ been transferred to Koppel. Before he could protest against this uncousinly insult of Simon’s, however, Fixberg rose from his seat and cleared his throat impressively. Apparently he was about to object to Simon’s question as irrelevant, immaterial, leading the witness, and calling for a con- clusion, when Koppel forestalled him. “What do you mean—‘a janitor?’” he demanded. ‘What do them socialists care for a janitor, which if a landlord didn’t live in his own tenement nowadays, the tenants would use the stairs for firewood and sell even the bricks out of the wall for second-hand building-material.” Once more Fixberg cleared his throat. “Then we are to understand that you are the owner in fee simple absolute of the premises where you reside?”’ he asked, and in the pause which ensued, while Koppel SOOTHING QUIETNESS On the cinderless paths of the Great kes—so deliciously restful to tired city nerves—is only one of the advan- tages oi this kind of summer travel, for business or pleasure, on the pala- tial, luxurious D. & C. Line steamers. DAILY Detroit and Cleveland Detroit and Buffalo Six Trips Weekly (July 1 to Sept. 15) Detroit, Alpena, Mackinac, St. Ignace Rail tickets accepted, either Sieotien, between Detroit and Buffa’ SETROIT & CLEVELAND NAVIGATION co. A. A. Schantz, Pres. and Gen. Mgr. J.T. McMil L. G. Lewis, Vice-Presiden General Passenger Agent Song 2c tod pomp hlet and Gen. Pass. ‘Agt,, D Detroit, Fashion the use oO. is necessary so lon} as sleeveless Bowns and sheer fabrics for sleeves are worn. It assists freedom of move- ment, unhampered grace, modest elegance correct style. That is why ‘they all use Delatone” Delatone is an old and well known scien- tific preparation for the quick, safe and certain removal of hairy Bro no matter how thick or stubborn. After application the skin is oe. and hairless, with in or discol- oration. special- ists recommend Delatone for removal of objec- tionable hair face, neck orarms.* Druggists sell Delatone , or an original 1 0%, jar will be mailed to any address on receipt $1 by THE SHEFFIELD PHARMACAL CO. Dept. LR 339 S.Wabash Ave., Chicago. Ill. SHEFFIELD wex at chic Do you know, ill Al health or chronic ailments, KA in nine out of ten cases are due to improper food, poor | circulation, insufficient ex- ercise, incorrect breathing and incorrect poise. hy Remove these unnatural |, conditions and your ail- | vanis! you. but am dally have done it for 92600 women. Without Drugs I wil] send you letters of endorse. ment from eminent physicians and tell you how I would treat you, Physicians end rse my work-.their |). wives anc i daughters are my pupils. Don’t let writing a letter stan) between you and good health, ani- mation correct weight and a per | fect figure. Write me now—today — while this subject is uppermost. If Qe you will tell me in confidence your height, weizht, and your ailme ts, 1 will tell you if 1 cau help you. Susanna Cocroft struggled mentally with the intricacies of | Dept. 42, 209 No. Michigan Blvd., Chicago, Ill. 143 THAT q | | } | AY | ? \ | r | 4 | ra | | | | | ~ ¢ i

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144 Price $5, Complete. (in Canada, $7.50) If not at your deal- er’s, we send direct. Fitzgerald Mfg. Co., Dept. 212, Tor- rington, Conn. -E-CHEE oe Thoroughly removes all dirt and grease from white glazed kid, kid, buck, calf, suede, nu-buck, canvas or linen shoes. Doesn’t mat nap—doesn’t harden but softens and preserves leather. CLEANS PANAMA HATS Al shoe, drug and department stores, also shoe repair 1 shops. If your dealer doesn't carry, write us his name. The Pee-Chee Cleaner Mfg. Co. Cleveland, O. PERFECT WHITE SHOE CLEANER CONTAINS. Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 the phrase “fee simple absolute,” Simon raised his right hand. _ “Wait,” he said. “It ain’t necessary for him to answer.” He felt in his breast-pocket, and with trembling fingers drew out his check-book. | “Popper,” Mrs. Permasenzky cried, “what are you going to do?” ; Simon patted his wifé’s arm reassuringly. “Tt’s all right, mommer,”’ he said. “At ! ay time of life, it’s a whole lot easier to keep on signing checks than to start in tell- jing lies.” -.,| Three months later, Simon Permasenzky \was reading his paper in the subway ex- \press when a half-familiar voice said, “And how is Mr. Permasenzky this ‘evening?” */ | He glanced up to discover his late cousin = |Koppel hanging to the strap immediately § over him, but instead of the fashionable |garments of an owner in fee simple abso- ‘lute, Koppel’s raiment would have dis- graced the last contingent remainder-man ¥ of an estate for two lives in being and |twenty-one years thereafter. “So,” Simon observed; “you don’t al- |\ways wear such stylish clothes, I see.” | Koppel smiled sheepishly. “The fact is me and my family didn’t them clothes,” he said. “Mr, Regens- _|burger lent them to us from a moving- picture business which he has got an ‘in- terest in.” Simon received this information with fatalistic calmness. | “Maybe Regensburger lent you that tenement-house also,” he suggested, “‘or did you really and truly own it?” “To tell you the truth, I didn’t own it,” Koppel confessed, ‘but Mr. Regensburger said that I should say I did.” “And how much did Regensburger pay you for all this?’’ Simon asked. “Fifteen dollars a week,” Koppel re- plied, “for a minimum of ten weeks.” The next Montague Glass story will appear in an early issue. Kindred of the Dust (Continued from page 64) admitted his entire willingness to be— i jiggered. Finally, having inspected his grandson, he turned to his soldier son. “Tree service-stripes and one wound- stripe,” he murmured. “And you’re not \crippled, boy dear?” “Do I fight like one? »Hector, man, those punches of yours would have de- 'stroyed a battalion of cripples. Oh, you old false alarm! Honestly, dad, you’re the most awful dub imaginable. And trying to bribe me to let you escape.” The Laird ignored him. “What’s that ribbon?” he demanded. “Distinguished Service Cross.” “You must have bought it in a pawn- shop. And that thing?” “Croix de Guerre.” “And that red ond” “ Légion d’Honneur® A pause. ‘wae “What did Dirty Dan get, son?” “The one thing in the world he thousnt he despised. The Congressional Medal of Honor for valor in saving the life of a British colonel, who, by the way, happens tobe an Orangeman. When he discovered J 1a | | "AR. Glectric Massage | bf

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. On the threshold of womanhood, filled with school or college ideals, youth sees a world of joy, of conquest and success,—but it often fails to recognize the homely truth that a healthy, radiant skin carries its possessor far towards the desired goal. For the wisest, therefore, there is Resinol Soap with its pure, copious lather which re- freshes the skin while cleansing it, and over- comes the tendency to embarrassing defects. Excellent for the bath and shampoo. Sold by all druggists and toilet goods deaiters. a0 Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 145 non ith sin an ; Me \ : of ‘ 4

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4. Aunt Belle, who by the way is a real person, will be delighted to an- swer letters from Moth- ers and future Mothers. ‘Downy Pillows Dear SisTER:— Of course you love those exquisite, downy little pillows. Baby’s sleepy little head looks so darling, nestling in their soft depths. But they are very bad for Baby just the same—keep the little head and neck far too hot—the direct cause of prickly heat and sometimes real headaches. Mennen Talcum is good for prickly heat; but I would rather have Baby comfortable even though less talcum is used. Put the pillows on Baby’s feet instead. Warm feet mean a warm body with the blood away from the head. Slumber, the right food and no skin irritation—that is about all there is to baby culture. The easiest of these is skin comfort. It is all a matter of keeping the skin clean, dry and well powdered—with the right powder, made according to a balanced, proved formula. Now of course there are several good talcums but there are many which are inferior. Some contain too much acid and other things. Did you ever know a doctor or nurse to use any talcum on a baby but Mennen Borated Talcum in the familiar blue can? That is because it is safe. It cannot harm and always helps. I believe so firmly in Mennen’s that it is the only powder I use for myself, for after all, adult skin is about as delicate as that of a baby’s. What a comfort it is on hot days! Lovingly, BELLE. THE Mennen Company Newark. J. USA. Laboratories: Newark, N. J—Montreal, Quebec Me = Sales Agent in Canada: Harold F. Ritchie & Co., Ltd., Toronto, Ont. Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 it, he wanted to bayonet the colonel, and I won the Creix de Guerre for stopping him.” “Oh, cease your nonsense, Donald,” his wife urged, ‘“‘and tell your father and mother something. I think they are en- titled to the news now.” “Ves, Nan; I think they are. Listen, folks: Now that you’ve all been nice enough to be human beings and accept my wife at her face valuc, I have a sur- prise for you. On the day when Nan mar- ried the father of my adopted son, he waited until the officiating minister had signed the marriage license and attested that he had performed the ceremony; then, while the minister’s attention was on something else, he took possession of the license and put it in his overcoat pocket. - Later, he and Nan drove to a restaurant for luncheon and the overcoat was stolen from the automobile. The thief pawned the coat, and the pawnbroker discovered the license after the thief had departed. The next day, the fellow was arrested in the act of stealing another overcoat; the pawnbroker read of the arrest, and remembered he had loaned five dollars on an overcoat to a man who gave the same name this thief gave the police. The pawnbroker found sewed to the lining of the inside pocket of the over- coat the tag which all tailors put there. It bore the name of the owner and his ad- dress. “Now, the pawnbroker noted that the name of the overcoat’s owner was not that on the marriage license. Also, that the li- cense was attested by a minister, but had not been recorded by the State Board of Health, as required by law— and the pawn- broker was aware that marriage licenses are not permitted to come into the posses- sion of the contracting parties until the fact that they have been legally married has been duly recorded on the license.” “Why didn’t the idiot send the license back to the minister who performed the ceremony?” The Laird asked. *‘Then this tangle would never have occurred.” “He thought the best thing would be to get the license into the hands of Nan direct. Before trying to do so, however, he wrote to the man named in the license and sent his letter to the address therein given. In the course of time, that letter was re- turned by the Post-Office Department with the notation that the location of the addressee was unknown. The pawnbroker then wrote to the man whose name ap- peared on the tailor’s tag in the overcoat, and promptly received a reply. Yes; an overcoat had been stolen from his automo- bile on a certain date. He described the overcoat and stated that the marriage license of a friend of his might be found in the inside pocket, provided the thief had not remo¥ed it. If the license was there, he would thank the pawnbroker to forward it to him. He enclosed a check to redeem the overcoat and pay the cost of forwarding it to him by parcel-post, insured. The pawnbroker had that check photographed before cashing it, and he forwarded the overcoat but retained the marriage license, for he was more than ever convinced that things were not as they should have been. “His next move was,to write Miss Nan Brent, at Port Agnew, Washington, inform- ing her of the circumstances, and advising her that he had her marriage certificate. This letter reached Port Agnew at the time Nan was living in San Francisco, and 146 Aunt Belles | Comfort Letters || A | | | | | | = | | | | | |

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Plenty of Power but no Traction— spinning wheels that get nowhere —and the man in the taxi believes he is paying for the futile spinning of the wheels. The meter on his car back home would register them in miles. He believes the taximeter is registering a charge against him for the useless spin- ning of the rear wheels and the resulting damage to the tires. A valuable object lesson, if it makes him think of his own car and how he abuses his own tires when he fails to put on Weed Tire Chains For Sure and Certain Traction The taxicab companies protect the Public and themselves from skidding accidents—from exces- sive costs. Taxicab wheels spin only when driv- ers disobey the companies’ order to ‘‘Put on Tire Chains when streets are wet or slippery.”’ And to safeguard their patrons against the drivers’ possible negligence, the taximeter is attached to front wh Philadelphia Weed Tire Chains, when used judiciously, lengthen the life of tures. Whether they are used on taxicabs or on pleasure cars, Weed Tire Chains materially reduce operating expenses. Nothing looks more ridiculous than a spin- ning tire—nothing more brainlessly extravagant. Put on Weed TireChains “at the first dropof rain.” AMERICAN CHAIN COMPANY, Inc. BRIDGEPORT CONNECTICUT In Canada: Dominion Chain Company, Limited, Niagara Falls, Ontario Largest Chain Manufacturers in the World The Complete Cha AS Types, All Sizes, All Finishes—From Plumbers’ afety Chain to Ships’ Anchor Chain. General Sales Png Grand Central Terminal, New York City District Sales Offices: Pittsburg Portland, Ore. San Francisco 20 Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 147 — nd 4 € 7 n, ot id ary = | EVE | |

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148 BEAUTIFY YOUR FIGURE A heavy, pendulous abdomen is as great & detriment to good health as it is to good style. In many instances obesity is the cause of serious afflictions, and every effort should. be made to prevent or relieve such a condition. Patented OOCGIOrM supPporTER corrects in a gradual and natural manner. Can be worn with or without a corset. It relieves the strain on the abdominal muscles, prevents sagging and molds the figure along graceful and erect lines. As a maternity support it is ex- ceedingly beneficial, and is so recommended by physicians. Remember, the Goodform Reducer-Supporter_ is a garment and a supporter combined, made of special material to afford the maximum sup- port and protection to the wearer. | If you use any kind of abdominal protector, or if you should, write at once for detailed information. Address, GOODFORM MFG. CO. 931 Mills Building, St. Louis, Mo. DEALERS—WRITE FOR PARTICULARS AND TERMS Face Powper LABLACHE BESPEAKS its superfine quality and its unusual refined odor, which pay homage to velvety skins and faultless complexions. Ever constant is Lablache, but delicately unobtrusive . An old favorite, indis- pensable and impos- sibleof improvement, Refuse Substitutes They may be dan- gerous. Flesh, White, Pink or Cream. 75c. a box at druggists or by mail. Over two million boxes sold annually. Send for a sample box. BEN. LEVY Co. French Perfumers, Dept. 59 % Delivered you —,. ry Your choice of 44 styles, colors and sizes in the famous line of « “RANGER” bicycles. We pay the freight from Chicago to your town. allowed 30 Days Free Trial onthe bicycle you select, actual riding test. EASY PAYMENTS if desired, at a ® =mall advance over our Speci: 4 Factory-to-Rider cash prices. ™ Do not buy until you get our great i new trial offer and low Factory- LAMPS, HORNS, pedals, TIRES sinzie wheels and repair pores for all makes of bicycles at alf usual prices. END NO MONEY but write today for the Rider Agents anted big new catalog. Boys make MEA CYCLE COMPANY big money Dept.a-33, CHICAGO Learn How to Write Short Stories Teer isa bis ies, ture articles. You t writers have en- said dors«c our home study course. rse is ané takes only a few of your spare hours. Write for free book Hoosier institute, S.S. Dept B 104 Ft. Wayne ind. Direct-To-Rider terms and prices. » her father received it. He merely scratched out Port Agnew, Washington, and sub- stituted for that address: ‘Care of ——,’ using Nan’s married name, ‘Altamont Apartments, San Francisco.’” “By the time the letter reached San Francisco, Nan had left that address, but, since she planned a brief absence only, she left no forwarding address for her mail. That was the time she came north to visit her father, and in Seattle she discovered that her supposed husband was already married. I have told you, father, Nan’s reasons for refusing to disclose this man’s identity at the time. “Of course, Nan did not return to San Francisco, but evidently her husband did, and at their apartment he found the letter addressed to Nan. He opened it, and im- mediately set out for San José to cal! upon the pawnbroker and gain possession of the marriage license. Unknown to him, how- ever, his lines were all tangled, and the pawnbroker told him frankly he was a fraud and declined to give him the license. Finally, the pawnbroker tried a bluff, and declared that if the man did not get out, he would have him arrested as a bigamist —and the fellow fled. “A month or two later, the pawnbroker was in San Francisco; so he called at the Altamont Apartments to deliver the license in person, only to discover that the person he sought had departed and that her address was unknown. So he wrote Nan again, using her married name, and addressed her at Port Agnew, Washington. You will remember, of course, that, at this time, Nan’s marriage was not known to Port Agnew—she had kept it secret. Naturally, the postmaster here did not know anybody by that name, and, in due course, when the letter remained un- claimed, he did not bother to advertise it but returned it to the sender.”’ “Tt doesn’t seem possible!” Mrs. Mc- Kaye declared, quite pop-eyed with excite- ment. “Tt was possible enough,” her son con- tinued dryly. “‘ Well, the bewildered pawn- broker thrust the license away in his desk, and awaited the next move of the man in the case. But he never moved, and after a while the pawnbroker forgot he had the license. And the minister was dead. One day, in cleaning out his desk, he came across the accumulated papers in the case, and it occurred to him to write the State Board of Health and explain the situation. Promptly he received a letter from the board informing him that inquiries had been made for a certified copy of the license by Miss Nan Brent, of Port Agnew, Washington, and that the board had been unable to furnish such a certified copy. ‘Immediately, our obliging and intelli- gent pawnbroker, whose name, by the way, is Abraham Goldman, bundled up the mar- riage license, together with the carbon copy of the pawn-ticket he had given the thief, a press clipping from the San José Mercury recounting the story of the capture of the thief, carbon copies of all his correspond- ence in the case, the original of all letters received, the photograph of the check— everything, in fact, to prove a most con- clusive case through the medium of a well- ordered and amazing chain of optical and circumstantial evidence. “This evidence he sent to Miss Brent, Port Agnew, Washington, and she re- ceived it about a week before I married Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 her. Consequently, she was in position to prove to the most captious critic that she was the innocent victim of ascoundrel. In the eyes of the law, she had never been married; the man in the case was legally debarred from contracting another mar- riage. The worst that could possibly be said of Nan was that she played in mighty hard luck.” : “Tn the name of heaven, why did you not tell me this the day you married her?” The Laird demanded wrathfully. “T didn’t know it the day I married her. She was curious enough to want to see how game I was. She wanted to be certain I truly loved her, I think—and, in view of her former experience, I do not blame her for it.” “But why didn’t you tell us after you had discovered it, Donald?” Mrs. Mc- Kaye interrupted. ‘That was not kind of you, my son.” ‘“‘Well,” he answered soberly, “in the case of you and the girls, I didn’t think you deserved it. I kept hoping you and the girls would confess to dad that you tele- phoned Nan to come back to Port Agnew that time I was sick with typhoid——” “Eh? What’s that?” The Laird sat up bristling. Mrs. McKaye flushed scarlet, and seemed on the verge of tears. Donald went to her and took her in his arms. ‘‘ Awfully sorry to have to peach on you, old dear,” he continued. ‘Do not think Nan told on you, mother. She didn’t. I figured it all out by myself. However, as I started to remark, I expected you would confess and that your confession would start a family riot. In the midst of it, I knew father would rise up and declare himself. I give you my word, dad, that for two weeks before I went to work up at Darrow, I watched and waited all day long for you to come down here and tell Nan ~ was a bet and that we’d play it as it Old Hector wagged his head sorrowfully. “Nellie,” he warned his trembling wife, “this is what comes of a lack of confidence between man and wife.” She flared up at that. “Hush, you hypocrite! At least I haven’t snooped around here trying to poison dogs and kill people when I was discovered playing Peeping Tom. A pretty figure you’ve cut throughout this entire affair! Didn’t I beg you not to be hard on our poor boy?” “Ves; you had better lay low, father,” Donald warned him. ‘“‘You’ve been married long enough to know that if you start any- thing with a woman she’ll putit allover you. We will, therefore, forget mother’s error and concentrate on you. Remember the night I dragged you ashore at Darrow’s log boom? Well, permit me to tell you that you’re a pretty heavy tow, and long before my feet struck bottom I figured on two widows McKaye. If I’d had to swim twenty feet further, I would have lost out. Really, I thought you’d come through after that.” “T woula, if you’d waited a bit,” old Hector protested miserably. ‘You ought to know I never do things in a hurry.” “Well, I do, dad; but, all the same, I grew weary waiting for you, Then I made up my mind I’d never tell you about Nan until you and mother and the girls had completely reversed yourselves and taken Nan for the woman she is.” | LaBlAcn, {

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Universities, Professional and Trade Schools 149 (Continued from page 21) Mining Engineering| = For Your Profession A wide and _ profitable field, not overcrowded The Michigan College of Mines (established 1886) offers compoonenave four-year course w can completed in three calendar on Its breadth pro- vides foundation for ex alization in that field of engineering whic’ most t appeals to the stu- dent. Theoretii work accompanied with prac- tical experience. College is located in center of one of the world’s greatest copper mining districts. Close relations constantly maintained with mines, mills, smelters, electrolytic and power plants which are practically a part of the college equipment and a factor of enormous value in instruction. Managers of large operations regularly lecture to classes. Ri affords unusual opportu A for geological study. Nine Buildings, Advanced Methods. Vigorous Ath- letics, Bowling, Tobo gganing. “M.C. Men Make Good.” For Descriptive book, address 256 College Ave., Mich. Michigan Mines Law School of Cumberland University A One-Year Course covering the entire field of American Law. Dail Lessons m the pee ard text-books the states, and have become Governors, Senators an Representatives in Congress. car ning second Wednesday in September, ey” ‘or = ess TENNESSEE, Lebanon, Box 21. The Art Institute of Chicago July 6 to Sept. 11. Offers courses in Drawing, Painting, [odeling, Normal Art, etc. For illustrated catalog, addr REG GISTR RAR, Art Institute of Chicago. ILLINOIS, Chicago, Michigan Ave. at Adams St., Dept. 21. New York School of Applied Design For Women. 29th year. Textile Designing, Poster and Commercial Advertisi: Fashion a a nterior Dec- cretion, Tilustration, Historic it. Preparatory Ornamen ‘ourses. Positions soe Orders filled. Yor«K City, 160 Lexington Avenue. Valparaiso University Betore deciding where catalog. This is one of the largest institutions of learn- ing in the ¢ United S tates. Thorough instruction at Lowest Expense. Catalog mailed free. Sears K. BROWN, Pres. HEN INDIANA, Valparaiso, Administration Bldg. University of Louisville So Offers a four-year co leading to D.D.S. dae. Term opens September "28th, 1920- Registration closes October 8th. A ‘o-educational. H. B. TILEsTon, M.D., D.D.S., Dean. KENTUCKY, Louisville. Philadelphia College of Pharmacy AND ScIENCE—Chemistry—Pharm: Com- plete courses in Applied Boiences lent to recogn. . Faculty nationally known. tnd vidual ee, Opportunities to earn expenses during course. Catalogue NNSYLVANIA, Philadelphia. —B-101. if Do you wish our assist- Professional Schools tie choice of a school? If you do not find one suited to your requirements advertised in the magazine write to us. Give location, approximate are willing to spend, and age of prospective pup. COSMOPOLITAN EDUCATIONAL CLUB. New York, Times Square Station, Box 155. El t =m with training are in de- rica ‘century, this schoo training a Be of embbision and limited time, for the industries. Condensed in Electrical Engineering motions. Theoretical and Practical Electricity. Mathe- matics, Steam and Gas Engines ani Mechanical Drawing. Students construct dynamos, install wiring and test electrical machinery. Course with diploma complete In One Year Over 3000 men trained. Thorosaply equipped fireproof dormitories, dinin hall, Maboratories, shops. Free catalog. 38th year opens Sept. 29, 1920. L BLISS ELECTRICAL SCHOOL 49 Takoma Ave., Washington, D. C. Electrical Engineering B. S. Degree in 3 Years Special intensive training in electrical engineer- ing for early graduation, to fill increasing de- mand for engineers with initiative. 14 High School credits required for entrance. Practical, Electrical Courses 6 mos. to 3 years, for those with limited education. Make up h school credits while ac uiring a tech- nical education with an immediate value. **Earn While You Learn” Outdoor athletics, board and room at cost. for folder “Succeed Through Electricity." Mention age and education. School of Engineering of Milwaukee 1907-373 Broadway Milwaukee, Wis. Two Years’ Engineering Course Compact courses of essentials. Rich in mathematics, science and mechanical peste also shop and field work. Planned for those short ey, but strong in purpose. Courses distinguished alike for what is embraced and what is omitted. Especially adapted for Young Men of Common School Education Young Engineers with Practical Experience, but no degree Enter any term. Modern Shops, Laboratories, Same rates for Co Civil Mechanical in timeand mon No entrance examination. Library, Apparatus and Machinery. $260 pays tuition, board and furnished room and library, all for 48 weeks, A Cc mmercial courses, | Bie ATE COLLEGE OF ENGINEERING, 20 C Street, Angola, Indiana Rochester, N. Y. Normal Trade Course. ‘PT. ill rite DE. C for lystvated Bulletin. Rochester Athenaeum & Mechanics Institute 36th year Industrial Arts Household Arts Normal and professional training for men and women. Three and one-year courses in all departments. School of Industrial Arts: Three-years’ normal industrial training for teachers of vocational work. One-year. Spec:al two-year courses in Mechanics, Electricity, Chemistry, Architecture, especially designed for those with previous experience. Prepares men for positions as superintendents and factory managers School of Optometry: Full two-year course, Prepares students for Professional Optometry. Technical Optics provides practical remunerative vocation in a HESTER J line. Applied Arts Special six months’ course in ESTER ATHENAEUM & MECHANICS INSTITUTE - - Rochester, N. Y. University | Massachusetts Inc. PREPARATORY SCHOOL COLLEGE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES Following the European Gymnasium plan this department offers the last two years of the High School and the first two years of College work. Attention is directed to our one or two year PREMEDICAL course as required by the medical school the student elects to enter. In writing for announcement specify in what de- partment interested. ADMINISTRATION OFFICE 657 Boylston Street Boston Boys’ Schools Do you wish our assistance in the choice of a school? Cosa POLITAN CLusB, NEW York, Times Square Station, Box 155. Learn Good-paying positions in the best studios in the country await men and women who prepare ives now. For eases we have successfully taught otography, and ‘Three-C Color anced position at better Terms easy: living La ~y and best ‘school of itskind. Write for catalog ILLINOIS COLLEGE of PHOTOGRAPHY Box C, 948 Wabash Avenue, Effingham, Illinois PHILADELPHIA SCHOOL of The oldest Industrial Art pchool in erica offers the ys Art an esign, Nor Art, Textile Design, Costume gn, Fashion ustrat ion, Illustration, In oration, Portrait, Life and Still Life Painting in Oil and Water Color. Practical training. Graduates command aries. Pupils accepted rect from and Grammar Schools. Send for booklet. Sindy Mining Engineering Courses in Metal Mining, Metallurgy, and Mining Geology. New courses in Petroleum and Oil Geology. Free scholarships available. Autumn Term begins Sept. 6, 1920. Registrar, Box 702, School of Mines, Golden, Colorado THE CHICAGO DAILY NEWS School and College Bureau Offers You Its Specialized Services in Choosing a School Last year the School and College Bureau of The Chicago Daily News saved many busy parents and questioning boys and girls both time and worry by sending them prompt, reliable information about just the kind of school they wanted—personal requirements as to location and tuition charges being considered in each individual case. This year many young people will again be perp!exed by the problem of finding the right school. Why not let us he!p you? The Chicago Daily News maintains this service absolutely free of charge to No need to hurriedly select a school on mere hearsay when expert advice can be obtained by telephoning, ae or call- ing for a personal interview at THE CHICAGO DAILY NEWS School and College Bureau Tell us what you wish; COSMOPOLITAN will tell you where it may be found. to he In en lly 4 = ir- ty Ou T. Ww I of er C- of practice. More than four thousand alumni, representa- tives of whom have reached the Supreme Court of the United States, the supreme and inferior courts of many of | u DesIGN for WOMEN ‘ FOUNDED 184% t 4 j af Box 10, Broad and Master Streets, Philadelphia, Pa. I | | | | | | | tions and pro- | advertised in the magazine write to us. _Giv« location, | approxitiate amount you are willing to spend, age of | | [iiii....iiiiiiiiitiiiiii////////iiis ~ | prospective pupil and ‘any information you see fit. n Ee to secure these positions. Now is the time to fit your- Chicago Illinois } \

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Nation's Capital x rators’ course in W Telegrapby, and Radio Compass taught inten to twelve weeks by improved comprehensive method. Courses in- clude theory, laws, code and ice and prepare stu- dents for first-grade government (commercial) license. Thousands of positions now open fur licensed operators. Applications now being accepted for admittance to special summer class now forming. Regular classes open year for those unable to particulars and rates of tuition. State whetber interested in regular or summer class or SCHOOLS TIONAL RADIO Dept. 216, 14th & U Sts., Washington D.C. ° The Antiseptic Powder to Shake Into Your Shoes And sprinkle in the Foot- Bath. It takes the sting out 4 of Corns, Bunions, Blisters and Callouses, and gives rest ‘ and comfort to hot, tired, smarting, swollen feet. More than 1,500,000 pounds of Powder for the Feet were ae by our Army and Navy during the war. Allen’s Foot-Ease, the powder for the feet,takes the friction from the shoe, freshens the feet and makes walk- J J ing a delight. Nothing relieves the pain of tight or new @ shoes so quickly or thoroughly. Try it Sold everywhere. ==> Dr. Isaac Thompeon’s EYE WATER strengthen inflamed eyes, and is ideal eye wash, Good since 1795. * Keep your eyes well and they will help keep you. 35 At All Druggists or sent by C mail upon receipt of price 3 Write for our Booklet. It is FREE f JOHN L. THOMPSON SONS & CO. 144 River St., Troy, N. Y. GRAF LEX KODAKS Cameras, Lenses and supplies of every descri tion. We ean save you 25 to 60 per cent on a used outfits. Write at once for our free in Book and Catalog sane sere reds of slightly used and new cameras and supplies at money-savi: prices. All goodssoldon ten day. free trial. Money refunded in full if unsatisfactory Youtake no hanaes by dealing with us. We have been business over 16 years Central Camera Co., Sent. 37. 124 S.Wabash Ave., Chicago you SELF - CONSCIOUS? Embarrassed in company, lacking in_ self-control? Let us tell you how you can overccme these troubles. THE VERITAS SCIENCE INSTITUTE, 1400 Broadway, Desk 6, New York WATCHES on CREDIT end for FREE Catalog | We are special at $75, $85, $100 $150, and up. EVERY ART- tc IN OUR CATALOG is priced unusually tow. What- ever you select will be sent prepaidby us. You see and examine the a right is! bay one-| r- chase _p and k ance divided into eig [OFTIS BROS & CO. ists STORES | mention it. grandson’s half-brother——” 'ALLEN’S FOOT-EASE:. “Well, you’ve won, haven’t you?” The Laird’s voice was very husky. “Ves, I have. And it’s a sweet victory.” “Then shut up. Shut up, I tell you!” “All right. I’m through—forever.” The Laird turned to Nan. “And you?” he demanded. ‘Have you finished?” She came to him and laid her soft cheek: |’ against his. “You funny old man!” she whispered. “Did you ever hear that I had even be- gun?”’ “Well, nae, I have not—now that you And, by the way, referring to Yes?” “T understand he’s a McKaye.”’ “Ves; Donald has legally adopted him.” “Well then, I’ll accept him as an adopted grandson, my dear. I- think there’ll be money enough for everybody. | But about this scalawag of a man that fathered him.. I’ll have,to know who he is; We havea suit of zebra clothing waiting for him, my dear.” ““No, you haven’t, father McKaye. My boy’s father i is never going to be a convict. That man has other children, too.” “I’m going to have a glass frame made, and in it I’m going to arrange photographic reproduction of all the documents in Nan’s case,” Donald stated. ‘‘ The history of the case will all be there then, with the excep- tion, of course, of the name of the man. In deference to Nan’s desires, I will omit that. Then I’ll have that case screwed into the wall of the post-office lobby, where all Port Agnew can see and understand——” “Nellie,” The Laird interrupted, “ please stop fiddling with that baby and dress him. Daughter, get my other grandson ready, and you, Donald, runover to themill office. My car is standing there. Bring it here and we’ll all go home to The Dream- erie— yes, and tell Daney to come up and help me empty a bottle to—to—to my additional family. He’ll bring his wife, of course, but, then, we must endure the bit- ter with the sweet. Good old file, Daney! None better.” Donald put on his cap and departed. As the front gate closed behind him. Hector McKaye sprang up and hurried out of the house after him. “Hey there, son!” he called into the darkness. ‘‘ What was that you said about a glass case?” Donald returned and repeated the state- ment of his plan. “And you’re going to the of explaining to this sorry world!” the old man cried sharply. ‘‘Man, the longest day she lives there’ll be brutes that will say ’twas old man McKaye’s money that framed an alibi for her. Son, no man or woman was ever so pure that some hypo- crite didn’t tread ’em under foot like dust and regard them as such. Lad, your wife will always be dust to some folks, but— we’re kindred to her— so what do we care? We understand. Do not explain to the Pharisees. They wouldn’t understand. Hang that thing in the post-office lobby, and some superior person will quote Shakespeare and say, ‘ Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’” “Then you would advise me to tell the world to go to——” “Exactly, sonny; exactly.” THE Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 ACCOUNTANT are earning We train you y by mall ‘or C. coun! from the id up. or service er the rite now for infor- ion and free book of Acco canes fi Salle University "Gent, 755-H Chicage Largest Business Training Institution in the Worid”’ No Hammer Needed ry: its, drawings, etc., in Rt phous — or woodwork, use MOO PUSH-PINS Glass Steel Points Easy to insert and won't injure wall ~~ Sold by hardware, Station 10 and photo supply stores ic Moore Push-Pin Ce.; 127 Berkley St., Phila. Farms— states—$10 to $100 an acre. a tock, tools, crops often included to settle quickly. Write for big illu on daa catalog. STROUT FARM AGENC 150-BR Nassau New York City. Statement- of the Ownership, Management, etc., required by the Act.of Congress of August 24, 1912, of Cosmopolitan, published monthly at New York, N. Y., for April 1, 1920. State of New York, County of New York; ss.: Before me, a Notary Public, in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared J. Mitchel Thorsen, who, having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the Business Manager of the Cosmopolitan and that the following is, to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership, management, etc., of the aforesaid pub- lication for the date shown in the above caption, re- quired by the Act of August 24, 1912, embodied in section 443, Postal Laws and Regulations, towit: 1. That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor and business manager are: Publisher, International Magazine Co., 119 W. 40th St., New York, N. Y.; Editor, Ray Long, 119 W. 40th St., New York, N. Y.; Managing Editor, George H. Casamajor, 119 W. 40th St., New York, N. Y.; Business Manager, J. Mitchel Thorsen. 119 W. 40th St., New York, N. Y. 2. That the owners are: International Magazine Co., 119 W. « 40th St., New York, N. Y.; Stockholders: W. R. Hearst, 137 Riverside Drive, New York, N. Y.; M. V. Hearst, 137 Riverside Drive, New York, N.Y. 3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or more of total amount of bonds, mort- gages, or other securities are: Columbia Trust Co., 60 Broadway, New York, N. Y.; M. V. Hearst, 137 Riverside Drive, New York, N. Y.; W. R. Hearst, 137 Riverside Drive, New York, N. Y.; Arthur Brisbane, 238 William St., New York, N. Y.; Lina Strauss, 27 W. 72nd St., New York, N. Y.; George J. Gould, 165 Broadway, New York, N. Y.; E. H. Gary, 856 Fifth Ave., New York, N. Y.; Samuel Untermyer, 36 Wall St., New York, N. Y.; George W. Perkins, 71 Broadway, New York, N. Y.; James Speyer, 1038 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. 4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security holders, if any, con- tain not only the list of stockholders and security holders as they appear upon the books of the com- pany but also, in cases where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as trustee or in any other fiduciary rela- tion, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is acting, is given; also that the said two paragraphs contain statements em- bracing affiant’s full knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the books of the company as trus- tees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner; and this afflant has no reason to believe that any other person, association, or corporation has any interest direct or indirect in the said stock, bonds, or other se- curities than as so stated by him. (Signed) J. Mitchel Thorsen, business manager. Sworn to and subscribed before me this 31st day of March, 1920. B. S. Deuse, Notary Public, New York County, NeW York Co. Clerk's No. 211, New York Co. Register’s No. 1264. (My commission expires March 30th, 1921.) [SEAL] 150 X pin Wireless |X | | Vad | | | | | é | | | | | op | | | | | | All fancy mond Rin Woe?

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2 ack J) Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 I5I SHE CHARGED: “ Men are too lax in these matters” He repuiep: “I admit it; but have women the right to judge them? ” ECENTLY I published the letter of R a woman who had written me pro- testing against what she called my “unfairness” in setting up a standard for women which I did not seem to apply to men. “Get after the men,” she wrote. “They are the real offenders in these matters. Few women I know need to be told these facts about themselves; but most men I know certainly do.” To this a man now replies: “I must admit the truth of what your correspond- ent says; most men are too lax in these matters. ‘But after all, have women the right to judge men where so many women fail? Is it not natural we should look to your sex for a standard in such matters? I can well believe that no woman who was conscious of the fact would let perspira- tion odor or moisture mar her daintiness. But every man knows how many uncon- scious offenders there are, even among the very nicest women.” Adam-like, the man tries to excuse his sex by blaming Eve. But it will not do. Undoubtedly all women have not yet learned how necessary it is to take pre- cautions against perspiration. But this does not alter nor excuse the fact that men asa whole are much more lax than women in this matter of personal fastidiousness. An old fault—common to most of us It is a physiological fact that there are very few persons who are not subject to this odor, though seldom conscious of it themselves. Perspiration under the arms, though more active than elsewhere, does not always produce excessive and notice- able moisture. But the chemicals of the body do cause noticeable odor, more appar- ent under the arms than in any other place. The underarms are under very sensitive nervous control, Sudden excitement, em- barrassment even, serves as a nervous stimulus sufficient to make perspiration there even more active. The curve of the arm prevents the rapid evaporation ot odor or moisture—and the result is that others become aware or this subtle odor at times when we least suspect it. How well-groomed men and women are meeting the situation Well-groomed men and women every- where are meeting this trying situation with methods that are simple and direct. They have learned that it cannot be neg- lected any more than any other essential of personal cleanliness. They give it the regular attention that they give to their hair, teeth, or hands. They use Odorono, a toilet lotion specially prepared to correct both perspiration moisture and odor. Odorono was formulated by a physician who knew that perspiration, because of its peculiar qualities, is beyond the reach of ordinary methods of cleanliness—ex- cessive moisture ot the armpits is due to a local weakness. Odorono is an antiseptic, perfectly harmless. Its regular use gives that ab- solute assurance of perfect daintiness that women are demanding—that conscious- ness of perfect grooming so satisfying to men. It really corrects the cause of both the moisture and odor of perspiration. Make it a regular habit! Use Odorono regularly, two or three times a week. At night before retiring, put it on the underarms. Allow it to dry, and then dust on a little talcum. The next morn- ing, bathe the parts with clear water. The underarms will remain sweet and dry and odorless in any weather, in any circumstances! Daily baths do not lessen its effect. Women who find that their gowns are spoiled by perspiration stain and an odor which dry cleaning will not remove, will find in Odorono completé relief from this distressing and often expensive annoyance. If you are troubled in any_unusual way, or have had any difficulty in finding relief, let us help you solve your roblem. Write today for our free booklet. ou’ll find some very interesting information in it about all perspiration troubles! Address Ruth Miller, The Odorono Co., 916 Blair Avenue, Cincinnati, Ohio. At all toilet. counters in the United States and Canada, 35c, 60c and $1.00. By mail, postpaid, if your dealer hasn't it. Men will be interested in reading our book- let, ‘‘The Assurance of Perfect Grooming.” Address mail orders or request as’ follows: For Canada to The Arthur Sales Co., 61 Adelaide St., East, Toronto, Ont. For France to The Agencie Americaine, 38 Avenue de l’Opera, Paris. For Switzerland to The Agencie Americaine, 17 Boulevard Helvetique, Geneve. For England to The American Drug ‘Supply Co. Ca, 6 Northumberland Ave., London For Mexico to H. E. Gerber 2a Gants. 19, Mexico City. For U.S. The Odorono 916 Blair Avenue, Cincinnati, Ohio | | e to | Ww k, y | d, | 0, es | st j n l. 3 e

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‘‘That’s a far bigger salary than I earned at your age.’’ ‘“‘Well, dad, it’s all due to the NEW WAY in Type- course.”” OST st2nographers get only $12.00 to $15.00 a week simply because they lack speed and accuracy on the typewriter. No matter how good you are at shorthand, you can never expect the really big sa'aries unless you have speed—real speed—and accuracy on th> typewriter. Earn $25.00 to $40.00 a Week Are your eyes chained to the keys? Is your speed low? Is typewriting hard for you? Is your work disfigured by erasures ‘and errors? If so, is it any wonder that you are not earning more? All this can be quickly and easily changed by a wonderful new method of gaining finger speed and control—the New Way in Typewriting. 80 to 100 words per minute is being attained right as by New Way operators—salaries raised from $12 and $l5a week to $25, $35, and $40 An Absolutely New Idea The secret of the New Way in Typewriting is so simple that you wonder why it was never thought of before. The results are amazing. No matter how low your present speed, no matter how weak or inaccurate your fingers, this new method, based on special Gymnastic Finger Trainin”, will quickly bring you expert accuracy and speed, as thousands of stenog- raphers and other typewriter users ~ e already proven. It’s all in the fingers—nothing more. Every hand has the same muscles and nerves and can be trained to the same dexterity. All that is necessary is to find the right way of training—and that the New Way offers you. There are only 10 lessons—each one easy ¢ and fascinating. No interference with regular work. A large part of the work is done by exercising the fingers away from the machine. Every student receivesabsolute guarantee of money refunded in full if Course does not bring promised results I THE TULLOSS SCHOOL, If you are ambitious and want more money 1677 College Hill, Springfield, Ohio in your envelo’ wait a moment before | sending for our booklet, telling all about this won- Please send FREE Typewriting Book. derful method and what it has done for thousands. | This new method is bringing such marvelous results to others—is proving itself to be so sure a means of quickly increasing salaries—that you will be doing yourself a big injustice if you fail to write for it at once. HE TULLOSS SCHOOL 1677 ‘ielene Hill, Springfield, O. Flower Drops, the most concen- trated andezdnisite rfume ever produced. Made without alcohol. A single lasts a wee! Bottle like soture,s with lon, gan stopper, ose or Lilac $1. ily of the Valley or Violet $2. $2.00; Romanza, our very latest Flower EXQUISITELY FRAGRANT A SINGLE Drop LASTS A WEEK A’'so makers of the Rouge of Unique Naturalness— “ASHES OF ROSES’ Rieger’s Mon Amour per ounce $1.50; Garden Queen $2.00; Alca- ; Parf $2.50; $1.00 five 250 bottles, different odors. PAUL RIEGER & 0. (since 1872) 162. First St., SanF Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 The Abdication (Continued from page 92) Piero frowned. “Instead of quarreling like schoolboys, we have to get home at once,’ ’ he rebuked. “‘We don’t want him to arrive before us.” But their speed was wasted. It was not till next morning that the new prince, coming on foot through the life and vivacity of the streets, carried the problem of his personality to the great, dark house which was his. Piero received him upon the spacious landing where the stone stairs branched below a huge, somber fresco; he had chosen the place carefully. “T make you weloome, my cousin,’’ he said, offering a formal hand as the new- comer approached him. At first glance—the place had shadows like a cathedral—the appearance of the heir was satisfactory. He was young, with something of his mother’s largeness of mold—none of the fine-drawn flimsiness of the Rinaldi; and, for a further touch, he had chosen to come to the house, not in mourning clothes and the high hat of cere- monial but in a brisk-hued, short-jacketed suit of tweed. “Pieased to meet you,” he replied. Piero had greeted him in English. ‘‘You’ll be Piero, I suppose? My mother here?” Piero’s dignity was tenacious. “T am Piero Rinaldi, my cousin,” he said. ‘TI have sent to tell your mother of your arrival. We had expected you yes- terday.”” He madea motion to the branch- ing stairs. “ Will you come up?” he invited. The other nodded. “Yes,” he said, as they ascended to- gether; ‘‘I got here yesterday, but there was a thing I had to see my mother’s lawyer about. So I’m stopping at the Grand with him.” “Yes?” Piero’s reply was frigid. He moved in the direction of the great gallery, where hung the portraits. Beside the first door, two servants of the house bowed them through. The gallery was flooded with light from the tall windows, and here Piero was able to amend the impressions of his first glance by a second. The young man was looking, but not with awe or even much curiosity, at the ranked presentments of his forefathers. The second glance con- firmed his effect of bigness; he had the chest and shoulders of a young bull and his sleeves were. full of his arms; but his head was carried high upon his neck, and upon his face, in the crisp firmness of his lips, in the steady and humorous eyes, were a self-possession and something that amounted to dignity—the dignity of the strong. “You are looking at the portraits?” said Piero. ‘‘It must, of course, seem strange to you——”” “Seen ’em before,” said the heir. “I was over here on business, an’ I came to see ’em.”’ He had a nonchalant cheeriness of tone and manner that daunted Piero. This big youth was one of the many things outside his experience, for to be a member of a caste is to possess a particular knowledge at the cost of a general ignorance. He had been prepared for a provincial, and he had found a cosmopolitan. “T did not know that,”’ he said. “No,” said the youth, and grinned; 152 | BOUNOIS FACE ‘LOW/DEIR> ~ Hower Drops | 4 gists or by mail. Nothing finer. SEND $12" FOR — -U - 25¢ BOTTLES

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020 Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 “T didn’t call on the family that time. I came in with a bunch of tourists, an’ was herded round by an old fellow with a stick. But I got a good look at these pictures, down to the very last.” “Ah!” Piero was curious. ‘Down ” to “Tomy father,” replied the other, meet- ing his eyes with his own level gaze. “Well’’-- Piero sighed; he was finding things difficult—“ he—rest his spirit—was a great nobleman, a great Rinaldi. I was with him when he died; I received his last wishes. He—he was very anxious and troubled at the last, my cousin.” : The young man nodded, unmoved. “Was he?” he inquired. ‘P’raps he was; but he’s all right now.” Piero waved a hand; it gestured toward the faces upon the high wall, where a score of dead Rinaldis hung embalmed in immortal paint. “Listen a moment,” he said. In so far as there were depths to his soul, he spoke from them. There was a tone of sincerity in his voice to which the big young man paid quick attention. “This house,” said Piero, ‘““whatisit? Itisatemple. Our— your castle in the hills, your lands are a part of it; but the greatest part is—your name. You are Enrico Rinaldi!” The young man made as though to interrupt, but Piero continued. ‘There have been bad princes and good princes,” he intoned, in his faded voice that had caught fire from his purpose, “but they have all been upholders of their name. The last wishes of the prince, your father—nearly his last words—were that you, his son and heir, should shape yourself in due and fit guid- ance to carry on the name and quality of the Rinaldi.’? He had his back to the last of the tall windows; opposite him, his hearer fronted the light. He was listening attentively; but his quiet young face did not warm to the words that issued from the very fount of Piero’s being. ‘Of the Rinaldi!” repeated Piero. ‘‘Look!” He waved again to the paintings. But the other shook his head, slowly. On his firm young lips there was the ghost of a smile, cynical, vindictive. ‘‘Damn the Rinaldi!” he said. ‘‘The name don’t mean anything to me.” ‘‘What?” If Piero started outwardly, his motion was to the inner convulsion of his being what a squib is to a bursting shell. But the youth before him was calm. ‘‘Nothing to me!” he said. ‘‘I’ve changed it, anyhow.” - He found a card and held it in his fingers. ‘‘Henry Rey- nolds is my name, an’ I’m a civil engineer. Prince, hey? Why, when I think what you Rinaldi did to me an’ my mother, I could burn this stone shack of yours to the ground—ancestors an’ all. I don’t owe you Rinaldi anything. But I’m goin’ to, all right. Say!” He flung out a finger, pointing in his turn to the portrait-hung wall, where art beyond price displayed the venality of great artists who truckled to powerful princes. ‘‘If it hadn’t been that my mother was decent, I might ’a’ been one 0’ them—like that fat thing there or that old ram in the corner—or any of the blackleg gang of ’em. This house isn’t a temple, Piero mio”—he used the Italian word—‘‘it’s a morgue! You weren’t thinkin’ 7’d live here, were you? Think again, then. I'll wait till I’m dead.” You—you—” Piero gasped, ‘‘you in- sult——” 153 Snug Seat Table, showing display compartment door open. MAKE MORE MONEY Out of Your Store Good display always. brings in- creased business. You can com- bine the most complete display with space saving. Use Snug Seat Display Tables in your store. These tables have a plate glass display compartment 4" deep by 26%" round, with two side doors for easy access. 50% Increase in Seating Capacity Snug Seats increase seating ca- pacity 50% over ordinary tables and chairs. They are neater, more attractive and permit better service. You can have Snug Seat Tables with solid tops or with the display top. They will not rust, rot or wear out but are good for many years’ service, The chairs are fitted to the table space. They are comfortable, logical and ex- tremely- popular. Hun- dreds of users claim they double the business in addition to selling goods. They are modern—up-to- date and soon pay for themselves. Write for our catalog, giving complete details about how to select, order and install the right McLean Good Fixtures for your store. We sell direct to you— saving all the intermediate expense. Write us today—no obligations. Do You Get ‘‘Good Fixtures’’ “Good Fixtures’’ is a monthly magazine devoted to better busi- ness. Some of the most amazing successes in this country are re- corded in its pages. It will help ou build bigger, better usiness. And it is abso- lutely free — no strings — no ifs and ands. Send us your name today and we will send you ‘*‘Good Fix- tures’’ every month. W.B.McLEAN MFG.COMPANY, 3039 Bigelow Boulevard, Pittsburgh, Pa. GOOD STORE FIXTURES mene ced. nd se = he be = d he d. ‘ll 1e f e S e t Yow

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A’ THE seashore or at home, whether the water is hard or soft, girls who are careful about their hair agree that the most easily used and effective hair cleanser is— CANTHROX SHAMPOO Its use makes and keeps the hair attractive, develops the life, luster and natural wave and gives a clean, luxurious appearance. Canthrox has been for years the favorite of those who want to bring out all the beauty of their hair, because Free Trial Toshow the Offer Jos of Canthroxand to prove that it is in all ways a most satisfactory hair wash, we send one perfect shampoo free to any address upon receipt of two cents for postage. it so rapidly softens and entirely removes every particle of dandruff, excess oil and dirt, at the same time giving such a massy fluffiness to the hair that it appears much heavier than it really is, while each strand has silky bright softness and the scalp is left pliant and comfortable. For Sale at all Drug Stores Canthrox costs about three cents a shampoo. No good hair wash costs less. A few minutes only are required for its use. You simply moisten the head with Canthrox and rinse it thoroughly, after which the hair dries quickly. H. S. PETERSON & CO., Dept. 140, 214 W. Kinzie St., Chicago, III. and SZLOM Comp Bed SETS UP WITH OR WITHOUT AUTO A real spring bed, full size for two, and positively water-proof tent with screened windows—folds on running board with- out blocking doors and sets up from or independent of car in two minutes’ time. Nothing equal to it in comfort, complete- ness or compactness. It quickly pays for itself in hotel bills saved. Demand a Stoll and save lodging hardships and disappointments. If you don’t know our dealer write The Stoll Mfg. Co. 3245 Larimer St. Denver. Colorado ESTABLISHED DEALERS Write for unbeatable proposition | 10 Months to Pay Examine ring FIRST, then if you decide to keep it pay only $2.00. Buying di- rect assures you the Rock Bot- ~ tom Price. A perfectly cut blue- § white Diamond in la- dies’ solid gold setting atonly $2.8 amonth! Take Advantage of this amazing offer to- day. YOUR MONEY BACK if you are not satis- fied. No Security—No Red Tape. A Postal Brings You the Greatest Diamond Watch and Jewelry Book Ever Published Whether you order this ring or not, let us send you this De Luxe Catalog FREE, containing d p- tions of rings, watches, diamonds and other articles of jon: Everything sent on FREE EXAMI- NATION. Address Dept. 8M. Sweet's Capital, $1,000,000 “THE HOUSE OF QUALITY” L:W-SWEET INC. 1650 - 1660 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 “‘Insult nothing!” . The young man had never lost his calm. ‘‘I said I was goin’ to owe the Rinaldi something. I’ve sold this place—and the farms—and the castle —sold ’em all to old Julius Wheeler’s widow. I’m needing capital, and they’ll pay more money than I ever heard of before. And that’s an end to the Rinaldi. Finito, Piero—finito per sempre!”’ Piero heard him; the superb room echoed to his voice—it almost seemed as if the very portraits heard him. Piero would have answered, no doubt; but at that moment the young man’s mother, great, slow, and statuelike, appeared in the double doors. Her son turned to her joyously. mamma mia!” But even ere he went to her with glad, open arms, he shot his final arrow into Piero. ‘*See!” he said to him. Reynolds!” “‘Here’s Mrs. Star-Dust (Continued from page 48) these places that scream out their indigence above the very doorway, dress them in the blue calico of indigence, and then seal and stamp indigence all over them, I’d show you what real indigence is, once you insisted upon stamping me with it. But you’re not going to make an indigent out of my baby. No, you’re not! No! No! No!” She was presently marching down the street with her head high, her eyes black with iris, a bag in one hand and the bundle of her child clutched under her chin. She did not heed where she was going, but as she tramped, she was saying audibly, over and over again: “My baby! My-baby! My baby!” XXV SHE was not afraid. The blood was rocking in her veins like a sea, and she was raging with an anxiety that mounted as the heliotrope dusk began to blow in like fog through the narrowness ,of the cross-streets. She boarded an up-town car, counting, and truly enough, upon the chivalry of the mob toward her burden for obtaining an immediate seat. At Fifty-third Street, she alighted into-a day gone two shades darker. A stiffening breeze blew in from the river, whipping up the odor of garbage from curbs. She thought suddenly of Page Avenue at this hour of pinkish mist—the little patch of front porch with the green chairs and tan-linen covers, the greeny smells spun up by garden-hose at evening. “©Q God, what have I done?” The window with the midwife’s sign was dark, and there was a little coagulation of bareheaded women on the steps. They parted to give her passage, their babel immediately resuming after her. The hot, sour smells of the hallway smothered her, but she fumbled for the bell, plunging her hand into the damp, clinging gauze of a cobweb that sent her back shuddering. What proved to be Mrs. Landman herself opened the door upon a rushing smell of hops and cook- ing, and a glimpse of violently disordered int | sta wa anc = he ché stc Ng cat sto its rig th | th | inf fri in ha las pi nig pa | fee its th: se he | in tre Send No Money! i Ladies’ Solitaire— Examination Free be he Wi to Ww in la Nee al VY wit | ce

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 interior. It was not so much the furiously stained figure that sent Lily a step back- ward; but a black flop, tied over one eye and knotted at the back of her head, struck her as so unutterably sinister that, without a word, she turned and, with her head charging the way for her, ran out through the hallway, through the group on the stoop and the entire length of the block, catching a down-town surface-car that stopped for her after it had started. At Forty-second Street, on a sudden impulse, she left the car, hurrying into Grand Central Station. In its undress of semicompletion, the swirl of home-going commuters caught her, so that she was swept down a temporary runway and shunted finally into the waiting-room. At its far end, the “Matron” sign still hung at right angles. She hurried to it, and, to her relief, was met by a new face above the gray-and-white uniform, rather little and old and framed kindly in white. “T want to leave my baby here until I. get in touch with friends who have failed to meet me.” A quick suspicion of foundling crossed the old face. “We don’t take the responsibility of infants.” “But this is urgent. I must locate my friends in Brooklyn. I cannot find them ‘in the telephone-book, and evidently they have not received my telegram.” “We don’t do it.” Then Lily went gallantly down to her last handful of change, all but a ten-cent jece. “She’s the best little thing. Sleeps the night through. I’ve two bottles of pre- pared food here in my bag. Her next feeding-time is at ten, and her next at “We don’t keep infants for nothing like that long, madam. I go off duty at seven, and——” “T haven’t any intention of leaving her that long—just until I get in touch with my friends.” With the mound of change ingratiated into the old palm and the little bundle transferred to arms more or less reluctantly held out for it, Lily lifted back a corner of the blanket. ‘ “Wait until nice lady sees mother’s ata then she’ll be glad to watch over er.” Mysteriously, it seemed to Lily, there was nothing of the button; nose so peculiar to infants about her child. It was tipped with character—so, too, the little mouth in the firm way it had of closing. “Say—but ain’t she a beauty?” capitu- lated the matron. “Tsn’t she? Isn’t she?” “Look at them curls You ought to enter her in a show, ma’am.” “You will see to her carefully until I return, won’t you? She sleeps that way always, sweetly and deeply.” “Why, I'll sit and rock her myself this very minute.” When Lily went out into the darkness, there were the ten cents in her bag and the blurry outline of things she finally laid to hunger. She walked down-townward for some blocks, finally entering a Third Avenue lunch-room and ordering a ten- cent bowl of beef stew. She took it from a tablespoon. like a thick soup, its warmth flowing through her and dissipating a chilly discomfort, Beatrice Swanson as lovely as her sis ter—which saying great deal. Both = are famous beauties. Fay Evelyn m possi out this English beauty. Marcella Swanson immeasurably to the s' of Florodora. [to The Four Most Beautiful Members of THE FAMOUS FLORODORA SEXETTE Wearing the €73 VEIL FROM FRANCE | Just Slip iton! All Paris knows the loveliness of these flattering Veils. And now the four leading members of the Florodora Sextette find in them a charm which supplements their own beauty. These are the famous Veils which you “Just Slip On!’’ No tying— no pinning—no knotting. At the better shops and drug stores everywhere—10c, 15c, 25c and 50c. THE CO., Inc. 222 Fourth Avenue, New York Also Importers of the famous Bonnie 73 Hair Nets whose blond beauty adds juccess Ss Dama Sykes 3 F} one of the most popular {4 and most beautifulmembers = of the Sextette. = | | “BS ON | | | | 3 { | WEE, he 7 J NO =

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156 on (not soldered). a brilliant permanent finish. WK OB RINGS The man who feels the deepest meaning of his EMBLEM RING or SIGNET RING can hardly rest satisfied with any- thing less than O-B Quality. The Emblem right in design and color—executed in hard, lustrous enamel, and pegged Each Signet Ring carefully polished to “Wherever good jewelry is sold” Ostby & Barton Co. Providence RLUSA HERE you live doesn t matter. Whether the amount you wish to deposit be large or small, this old-established bank offers “Banking by Mail’ facilities to you. 4% tioned safety. A in A for our free booklet “W'’ w'll bring you full details. on savings, compounded twice a year, and unques- CAPITAL & SURPLUS $8,000,000.00 ENS SAYINGS & TRUST MILLION DOLLARS. - Cosmopolitan Recommends the schools advertised in these pages. You will make | no mistake in writing to those that interest you. DON’T LOSE YOUR RIGHTS Protection Refore disclosing your invention to anyone send for blank form “EVIDENCE OF CONCEPTION" to be signed and witnessed. Form and information concerning patents free. ‘ ASTER & ALLWINE, 258 Ouray , Washington, D. C. Originators of the form *‘Evidence of Conception” ‘Become @ Specialist in ides eo A. instructors of bie! wg Addre Freee BOOK tells just whe you want to know. Agents international Accountants Society. i] Dept. 713. on 2626 S. Michigan Ave. Chicago, ti. than in m our ay the emphatic - oe of musicians amply repays us. To know all about Martin In- struments, send your name and address for catalog and informa- tion as to our Six-Day Free Trial Offer. Ask also about the Mar- tin Saxophone—the most perfect ofthem all. Write today. Martin Band Instrument Ce. 435 Baldwin Street Elkhart, ind. Sell our ac- Steady Income ani | sickness policies in your sparetime. Pay $5000 Ceath, $25 weekly benefit. Premium $10 yearly. Permanent income from renewals. Easy seller—I! iberal commis- sions. Insurance Co., Dept. S, Newark, N. J. We Start You in Business, furnishing every thing; men and women, opportunity lifetime to earn handsome income operating our “‘New System Specialty Candy Factories” asiywhere. Booklet free. Hillyer-Ragsdale Co., East Orange, N. J. ELL TIRES direct to car owner. 30x3 non- skid $11.75. Tubes $2.25; other sizes in proportion. Guaranteed 6,100 miles on oe adjustment basis. Pig commissions paid weekly. rience or capital unnecessary. Auto Tire learing House, 1581 West sth, Chicago. Clear Out Rats In3 Nights “Rough On Ree” rids your premises of all rate and mice in 3 nights. Change the bait you mix with “‘Rough On Rats”—that’s the secret. Rats won’t eat the same food that they know killed others. Varying the bait fools them. Druggists and general stores sell “Rough On Rats”—the most economical, surest exterminator. Write for ‘Ending Rats and Mice.’ Mailed free to you, N. es Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 Having finished, she almost slunk out of the place, with a sense of no tip left be neath the saucer, her pace swinging into the indefinable tempo of destination, but more and more indeterminate as she ap- proached Madison Square. She kept close to Third Avenue, some- thing reassuring in the sidewalk gabble, the air of cheap carnival, the white arc- lights over open fruit-stands, and the per- cussive roar of elevated trains. Presently, even Third Avenue would withdraw over its shops, the sidewalks fall quiet and darken, pedestrians become sinister. She shivered against that lateness, stood for a period outside a bird store, watching a pair of Japanese mice chase their little eternities in a wheel-cage. At Twenty-third Street, a youth with a prison complexion, a cap pulled down and a sweater pulled up, sauntered out of a pool-room, matching his pace with kers and at once easily colloquial: “Hello, sweetness!” Her eyebrows shot up. Ske could smell, feel, and taste the cheap beer on his breath, and anger, rather than fear. possessed her. “Cat got your tongue, sweetness? Where you goin’? | Lonesorre?” After a while, he fell back, flecked off, as it were, like a burr clutching for a metal surface. It was her conviction, many times put _ to test, that such situations lay within the woman’s shaping, and that man took his cue from the yea or nay of ker atti- tude. At the sight of a crowd tightening about /a street corner, she edged her way in. | The iron plug to a corner sewer had been | removed, | sleeved figure of a man prone on the _ ground, red-‘aced and arms inserted their | length. a policeman and the shirt- “What is it?” askec Lily, tiptoeing. ‘A feller’s gold watch rolled down.” “Who'll go down on a rope?”’ called out the owner of the watch. - “T will!’” cried Lily. The crowd turned its face to her. ‘“‘I will for a hundred and fifty dollars—now— here!” In the derision and boo that went up, she escaped, hurrying this time and without uncertainty. The Union Square Family Theater stowed the lighted but ‘quiet. front of a performance in progress. At the stage-entrance, the old doorman with his look of sea-dog recognized her, admitting her with a nod. The titter of music came back through the wings, and quick, loud thumps of a tumbling-act in progress. She wound, unchallenged, up the short spiral staircase. Through an open doorway of an office that had been refurbished and furnished in large mahogany desk, filing-case, and a stack of sectional bookcases, Robert Visi- goth sat tilted ina swivel chair. She stood in the doorway a second, watching his per- ceptions dawn. “Hel-lo!” he said finally, uncrossing a knee grown slightly corpulent and his rather small eyes crinkling to slits. “Hel- She was arch and laughed back. ‘A bad penny, you see.’ He swung a chair toward her without rising. “Turned up, didn’t you? . Good!” She seated herself, with that coquetry of hers which she could force on occasion, |_| Ct she 4 eul he sm to ter an} M yo | I | dis my | | ‘ BANKING BY MAIL AT 4% |NTEREST : ba THE CLEVELANI me | in ney” fro articulars of the | ing ind in existence. | | cor | Let standing. = Buya MartinCornet ff i ‘ Before you buy a Cornet, Trom- bone, ophone or any other fan 4 horn, inspect and try Martin In- j wo for _ the sta va 4; adi fift Instruments of Supreme Quality an

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 feeling his glance as it ran over her dawning shabbiness as searingly as a flame. “T took sick—that time,” she explained fatuously. He lifted her hand, bending back each finger to match his words. . “You are a naughty girl. Why did you run away?” She sat swallowing through obvious gulps, but increasingly determined to be arch. “Please—don’t”—trying to withdraw her hand. ““Come now,” he said, through a half- smile and watching her redden almost to purple; “you don’t hate me that badly, or you wouldn’t be back here.” “T know I don’t.” What?” “Hate you.” “Good! Now we’re getting on.” “T need something, Mr. Visigoth— terribly!” “We're not using that song-specialty any more,” he said kindly. “T’ve given up that sort of thing, too, Mr. Visigoth. I’m a stenographer now.” “Smartest thing you ever did.” “T—I’m in a little difficulty right now —a money one. That’s why I thought if you— Could you use me in the office? I know stenography and typewriting. I —it would be a godsend, Mr. Visigoth—I dislike having to put it so strongly—but my present difficulty is serious— very ——” ‘“‘What’s troubling you?” “T must have an office position. I want my evenings free, and I cannot be situated so that I might have to go on the road.” “ Married?” “Why I—I thought— assumed that you knew I vas married from the beginning. I—we aren’t together, though— haven’t been——” Umph. “It’s just that I’m temporarily em- barrassed.” “That was a pretty rough way you left “me in the lurch. Those actions don’t get a girl very far in this business.” “Tt was sickness.”’ He leaned forward to pat her hand. “You’re a queer little duck,” he said; “but I like you—always have.” “Then you will, Mr. Visigoth?” “Well, let’s not bother about that now.” “ But——”’ “There is quite a change taking place in these offices. My brother is coming from Chicago to take charge of the book- ing end, and I am going out there after he comes on, and I’ll see if he can use you. Let us talk about you now.” “No! No! Ihaven’t made you under- stand. That isn’t all. I’m in immediate need. Soimmediate! I need as much as —as a hundred and fifty—two hundred— here, now, t)-night'” ew!” “Tt is so difficult to explain; but if you would. If you could! I will work it out for you, beginning to-morrow morning. To the last penny. Two hundred dollars advance on any salary you may see fit to pay me, if you would! I’m not afraid to start small. Within a week, I’ll prove my value to you—that’s how I’ll slave for advancement. Just two hundred dollars advance on my salary—one hundred and fifty if——” “Well, well, well!” he said, stropping up and down the back of her hand. “That 157 invention which has revolutionized July Think how many new delights Prof. Anderson gave summer when he invented Puffed Grains. The milk dish now has Puffed Wheat floating in it—thin, flimsy, toasted bubbles of whole wheat. Breakfast brings the choice of three Puffed Grains, each with its own fascinations. Puffed Rice now adds to berries what crust adds to a shortcake. Or a nut-like garnish to ice cream. And between meals hungry children get some Puffed Grain crisped and buttered. Every day in summer, millions of people now enjoy these supreme food delights. But don’t treat them like mere tidbits These flaky, flavory bubble grains seem like food confections. But two are whoie- grain foods, remember. And all are scientific. They are made by steam explosion. Every food cell is thus blasted so digestion is easy and complete. They are the best-cooked cereals in existence—the only cereals so ideally fitted to digest. They are all-hour foods. They make whole-grain foods tempting. Let chil- dren find them handy, morning, noon and night. Puffed Wheat Puffed Rice Corn Puffs All bubble grains puffed rice pancake flour Now ice cream one se Is garnished with these The Quaker Oals @mpany airy, nut-like bubbles. | 0 t =a N | Sole Makers | |

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Established 1867 MAKE PEOPLE LIKE YOU STUDY Get along better, make more money, HUMAN develop a winning personality. learn to now ople as they are. Sen cents NATURE (stamps) or PERSONAL POWER.” a little book that points the way. Address PROGRESS LEAGUE, 5731 Union Sq., New York EEP your person fresh,‘ sweet and dainty by using Eversweet,—a toilet requisite for the immaculately groomed woman. Does not check perspiration, but neutralizes the odor arising therefrom, Is a wonderful emol- lient—a powerful an- tuseptic. ; Eversweet is a smooth, * white, unscented cream. A little of it patted under the arms, or anywhere, preserves that fresh - from -the- bath sweetness throughout the day and destroys all body odors. Will not stain the filmiest clothing nor injure the most delicate skin. Try It! 25Sc.-SOc. At all Drug and res or direct from i Dept. Sto: or & fversweet Co.. Pept. C-2, 62 Cliff St., N.Y. does put a different face on things, doesn’t it? I just don’t know what to say.” “Say ‘Yes.’ It is only my predicament gives me the courage to asx. But I need money, Mr. Visigoth. Need it! Need it! Now-— to-night! I'll pay it back in service. I ” “Come now,” he said, his eyes crinkling again: ‘‘you don’t mean that, Lily. I’m aman, and you’re awoman. I don’t want your money.” “T’m not what you think Iam. I hate you. I hate—sex. I——” For answer, he kissed her so brutally that she sat down, moaning her shame. ““You’re a woman of the world, Lily. | You don’t want anything for nothing. Life wouldn’t balance up that way.” “But “Ves, yes; I’m going to give you a position, too. Fifteen a week to start with, to show you I mean well by you— you beautiful, sleepy-eyed thing!” “T’m not what you think.” “All right; I know. Any position you want in this office to-morrow morning and me off to Chicago for permanent head- quarters next month. I’mgood pay. Are you?” hundred and fifty-——” “Two hundred!” “Ves—I’m good pay.” With a faying intensity that kept her teeth unconsciously ground together, so that, when she relaxed their pressure, the gums fairly sang, Lily took up her work in the offices of the newly incorporated Enter- prise Amusement Company. The clerical department occupied a large, unfinished room, obviously make- shift, that had previously been used for the storage of stage properties. There were two flat-topped desks, placed so that their swivel chairs faced across a consider- able expanse of surface, and two book- keepers’ perches, also rigged up to meet the exigencies of runaway affairs, and her own little table, with its brand-new typewriting machine. Yet Lily never entered the rather cold breath of this atmosphere without a sense of haven. It was as if she had turned the key on those areas that lay outside the immediate present. She could take the dictation of a letter to the printers, to a manufacturer of slot-machines for opera- glasses, or to a ventriloquist guilty of dis- orderly conduct behind the scenes, with the whole of her concentration brought to bear upon her pencil-point until very often it snapped under the nervousness of her pressure. Then Robert Visigoth, who dictated with his ten finger-tips together to form a little chapel, would invariably wedge a pleasantry into her tightly maintained attitude, but there was a freshly sharpened pencil always at hand in the little patch of shirt-waist pocket, so that even this slight schism was seldom accomplished. Her work consisted of some correspon- dence, mimeographing of programs for distribution to orchestra leaders, scene- shifters, printers, bookkeeping, and public- ity department. Quite a bit of communica- tion by wire, letter, and telephone with the Chicago office, and, upon one very recent occasion, she had been summoned down Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 to the auditorium with a Mrs. Ida Blair, one of the bookkeepers, for the try-out performance of a sketch, with the request for a written opinion on its box-office value. Lily alone had sent in a negative report: “Too sophisticated and not sufficient emotional appeal for vaudeville.” On the strength of several opposing yeas, the playlet was booked and removed after the second performance—a little secret feather which Lily wore jauntily in a little secret cap. In these eight weeks, a quiescence that was like a hand to the reverberating parch- ment of a drum had come over her. It was, in fact, as if the whole throbbing orchestration of her universe had stopped, as it sometimes can seem to upon the motion-picture screen, leaving the action to click on quietly without the excitation of music. She had taken, at the instance of Mrs. Blair, a room in an old Eleventh Street house. The odor of bohemia, which is the odor of poverty through cigarette smoke, lay on the hallways. There were frequent all-night revelries reverberated down from the skylight room on the top floor, and, one evening, a passing group had beat a can- can of invitation on her doorway, but she could lock and bolt herself into her room, a box, it is true, at two dollars and a half a week, but it boasted half-curtains of yellow scrim, a couch-bed with a moth- eaten but gay wool cover, and a small square of table with a _ reading-lamp attached by a tube to the gas-jet. She found herself, during the routine of her business day, looking forward to these long, quiet evenings beside that tiny table. There had been eight unbroken weeks of them, and each Sunday a fresh little mound of sheer garments to be carried out to Spuyten Duyvil. Her old inaptitude with the needle, by no means overcome, ham- pered her so that her stitches were often wandering Gipsy trails to be ripped over and over. She had grown thinner, so much so that a slight jaw-line had come out, but the shells were gone from beneath her eyes. The little spark of a smile was constantly over her face like a mirage before her lips and her eyes, and seeming to hover on the very peak of her brows when she arched them. She liked to stand before her wavy mir- ror folding the completed garments and looking back at herself. Newly freed, probably by the great Auchinloss and her daughter between them, from the bondage of an idea, she felt corporeally lighter, and was. The toothache of her being had ceased its neuralgic stabbings. It was not unusual for her to stand be- fore this mirror before climbing into bed, her mouth bunched to mimetics. “Zoé, come tomother! Mother! Daugh- ter, they’re shouting for you! Let me hold your flowers, darling; they’ll smother you. You mean the one with the yellow curls, madam? The valedictorian? That’s my daughter!” All the spots would come out in her eyes like little “niggers” in a pair of diamonds, and more often than not she would fall asleep then, with a little crescent moon of a smile lying deeply into her face. A new figure comes into I ily’s life—one that means a great deal to her. See the next instalment of Star-Dast, in August Cosmopolitan. C 4, | | | | | «Deodorant SO BE &

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| PAINTED FOR FATHER TINE OY HUGH ERO HOUR in the Dark Ages! The Time-Candle has burned to its seventh ring, the marauding Dane sleeps in his camp — fo arms, ye warriors of Alfred the Great! Inventions run in ae Alfred's Candle recalls the Cave-Man's a ap The grass rope was divided by knots, the candle by notches or rings. King Alfred's grasp of the value of Time was amazing—his working schedule a challenge to modern executives. To God he dedicated one-half of his most precious posses- sion — Zime! The Time-Candle, with its twenty-minute divisions, was his shrewd device for more accurately ful- filling that vow — a thousand years before the timekeeping = of our day — A Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 ASS | 4 < | €) NGL |

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 In Chancery (Continued from page 88) she assured him that the money had been sent. Poor woman! It cost her many a pang to send what must find its way into the vanity bag of ‘‘that creature.”’ Soames, hearing of it, shook his head. They were not dealing with a Forsyte, reasonably tenacious of his purpose. It was very ris\v without knowing how the land lay out there. Still, it would look well with the court, and he would see that Dreamer brought it out. “T wonder,” he said suddenly, ‘‘where that ballet goes after the Argentine.” He never omitted a chance of reminding Winifred about the dancer; for he knew she still had a weakness,.if not for Dartie, at least for not laundering him in public. He admitted reluctantly—for he was not good at showing admiration—that she was behaving extremely well, with all her children at home, gaping, like young birds, for news of their father—Imogen just on the point of coming out, and Val very restive about the whole thing. He knew indeed that Val was the real heart of the matter to Winifred. She loved Val beyond her other children, and the boy could spoke the wheel of this divorce yet if he set his mind to it. So Soames was very careful to keep the proximity of the preliminary proceedings from his nephew’s ears. He did more. He asked him to dine at the Remove Club. and over Val’s cigar introduced the subject which he knew to be nearest to his heart. “T hear,” he said, *‘that you want to play polo up there.” Val sat up at once in his huge chair. ‘“*Rather!” “Well,” continued Soames, “that’s a very expensive business.” “Um,” murmured Val. “Your grandfather isn’t likely to con- sent to it unless he can make sure that he’s not got any other drain on him.” And he paused to see whether the boy understood his meaning. Val was frowning lightly; his dark, thick lashes concealed his eyes, but a slight grimace appeared on his wide mouth, and he muttered, “T suppose you mean my dad.” “Ves,” said Soames; ‘I’m afraid it depends on whether he continues to be a drag or not.” And thought it wise to say no more, but let the boy dream it over. But Val was also dreaming in those days of a silver-roan palfrey and a girl riding it. Though Crum was in town and an introduction to Cynthia Dark to be had for the asking, Val did not ask; in- deed, he shunned Crum and lived a life « strange even to himself, except in so far as his accounts with tailor and _livery- stable were concerned. To his mother, his sisters, his young brother, he Spent this vacation in “seeing fellows,’ and his evenings sleepily at home. They could not propose anything in daylight that did not meet with his one answer: “I’m sorry; I’ve got to see a fellow,” and he was put to extraordinary shifts to get in and out of the house unobserved in riding-clothes until, being made a member of the Goat’s Club, he was able to transport them there, when he could change unobserved and slip off on his hack to Richmond Park. It was in his bones to keep this growing sentiment to himself. He would not for the world have breathed to the ‘‘fellows,”’ whom he was not “seeing,” anything so ridiculous from the point of view of their creed and his. But he really could not help its destroying all his other appetites. It came between him and the legitimate pleasures of youth at last on its own in a way which must, he knew, make him a milksop in the eyes of Crum. All he cared for was to dress in his last-created riding- | togs and steal away to the Robin Hill gate, where, presently, the silver roan would come demurely sidling with its slim and dark-haired rider, and in the glades bare of leaves they would go off, side by side, not talking very. much, riding races sometimes, and sometimes holding hands. More than once of an evening, in a moment of expansion, he had been tempted to tell his mother how this shy, sweet cousin had stolen in upon kim and wrecked his “life.” But bitter experience—that all persons above sports—prevented him. After all, he supposed he would have to go through with college, and she would have to ‘come out” before they could be married; so why complicate things as long as he could see her? teasing, unsympathetic beings, a brother worse—so there was no one to confide in; thirty-five were spoil- Sisters were | besides—this beastly divorce business! | Ah, what a misfortune to have a name which other people hadn’t! If only he had been called Gordon or Scott or Howard or | something fairly common! there wasn’t another in the directory. But Dartie— | One might as well have been called Morkin for all the covert it afforded. So matters went on till, one day in tke middle of January, the silver-roan palfrey and its rider were missing at the- tryst. Lingering in the cold, he debated whether | he should ride on to the house. But Jolly might be there, and the memory of their dark encounter was still fresh within him. He did not wish to be always fighting with her brother. So he returned dismally to town and spent an evening plunged in gloom. Next morning, at breakfast, he noticed that his mother had on an un- familiar dress and was wearing her hat. The dress was black with a glimpse of pea- cock blue, and the hat was black and large —she looked exceptionally well. But when, after breakfast, she said to him, “Come in here, Val,’”’ and led the way to the drawing-room, he was at once beset by qualms. Winifred carefully shut the door, took out her handkerchief, and passed it over her lips; and, inhaling the Violette de Parme with which it had been soaked, Val thought, ‘Has she found out about Hol- ly?” Her voice interrupted. “Are you going to be nice to me, dear boy?” Val grinned doubttfully. | “Will you come with me this morn- ing » “T’ve got to see—” began Val, but something in her face stopped him. bedi say,” he said, ‘‘ you don’t mean—— ’ “Ves; I have to go to the court this morning.” Already! That d—d business! He had almost succeeded in forgetting, since | 163 New Size Graining for Authorship How towrite, what to write, and where to sell. furn your into dollars. Courses in Short-Story Writ- ing, Versification, Journalism, Play Writing, Photoplay Writing, etc., taught person- Dr. Esenwein ally by Dr. J. Berg Esenwein, for many years editor of Lippincott’s Magazine, and a staff of literary experts. Constructive criticism. Frank, honest, helpful advice. Real teaching. One pupil has received over $5,000 for stories and articles written mostly in spare time—“play work,” he calls it. Another pupil received over $1,000 before completing her first course. Another, a busy wife and mother, is averaging over $75 a week from photoplay writing alone. There is no other institution or agericy doing so much for writers, young or old. The universities recognize this, for over one hundred members of the English faculties of higher institutions are studying in our We publish The Writer's Libr ; descriptive booklet free. We also publish The hiter’s Monthly, the lead- for workers ; annual | | FRAGRANT WHITH PARFUM Mary Garden | | u u u u u u u u | u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u | " u u u u u they are constantly recommending our courses. u subscription our Service, We u Foanuscript criti tervice, bs 150-Page illustrated catalogue free. Please Address he } Home Coreespondence School Dept. Springfie - ;

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 were a good many—seemed sitting on ev- erybody else’s knee, although really divided from each other by pews, and he had a feeling that they might all slip down to- gether into the well.- It was, however, but a momentary vision—of brown, with blobs of black, and white blobs of wigs and faces and papers, rather secret and whispery, before all was lost to sight except a high em pty pew before him, and he was sitting next his mother in the front row, glad of her Violette de Parme, and taking off his gloves for the last time. He saw his mother looking at him, and was suddenly conscious that he really counted for some- thing in this business, that she had made a special point of having him there next to her. All right! He would show them! And, squaring his shoulders, he crossed his legs and gazed inscrutably at his spats. But just then an “old Johnny” in a gown and long wig, like a funny, raddled woman, came into the high pew opposite, and he had to uncross those legs hastily and stand up with everybody else. “Dartie versus Dartie!’’ Filthy— to have one’s name called out in public! And, suddenly conscioys that some one nearly behind him had begun talking about his family, he screwed him- self round. An old bewigged buffer it was, who spoke as if he were eating his own words—a queer-looking oid cuss—the sort of man he had seen once or twice din- ing at Park Lane and punishing the port; he knew now where they ‘dug them up.” But, somehow, the old buffer was fascinat- ing, and he would have continued to stare if his mother had not touched his arm. Reduced to gazing before him, he fixed his eyes on the judge’s face instead. Why should that old “sportsman,” with his sarcastic mouth and his quick-moving eyes, have the power to meddle with their affairs—hadn’t he affairs of his own, just as many, and probably just as nasty? And there moved in Val, like an illness, all the deep-seated individualism of his breed. The voice behind him droned along: “Differences about money matters— extravagance of the respondent.” (What aword! Wasthathisfather?) ‘Strained situation—frequent absences on the part of Mr. Dartie. My client, very rightly, your Ludship will agree, was anxious to check a course—but lead to ruin—remonstrated— gambling at cards and on the race-course —” (Hm. The air was sleepy in here.) “Crisis early in October. when the re- spondent wrote her this letter from his club.” Valsat up. ‘I propose to read it with the emendations necessary to the epistle of a gentleman who has been— shall we say dining ?” “Old brute:” thought Val, flushing. “You’re not paid for that.” “*VYou will not get the chance to insult me again in my own house. I am leaving the country to-morrow. It’s played out’—an expression, your Ludship, not unknown to the mouths of gentlemen who have not met with conspicuous success.” “ Sniggering owls!” thought Val, and his flush deepened. ‘“*T am tired of being insulted by you.’ My client will tell your Ludship that these so-called insults consisted in her calling him ‘the limit’—a very mild expression, I venture to suggest.” _ Val glanced sideways. His mother’s impassive face had a hunted look in the eyes. ‘Poor mother!” he thought, and CA Dignified Cross in ORock of oAges Granite HERE is always a note of appeal in, and reverence for, the Cross, which tells its significant story by the emblems carved on its surface. These emblems when carved in ROCK OF AGES GRANITE, the distinctive fine-grained and permanent granite of Barre, Vermont, will tell to all generations their own sacred story of love and sacrifice. When ordering your memorial, specify ROCK OF AGES GRANITE, and ask for the certificate. Write for booklet of illustrations. BOUTWELL, MILNE & VARNUM CO. MONTPELIER, VERMONT Quarriers of ROCK OF AGES GRANITE The Granite Center : | REFER TO of the World. Dept. D. Quarries at BARRE, VERMONT 165 ¢ | RICK |

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166 eschnann S 2 pen quick unconscious appraisal of a good-health . the life-long impressions they may fix indelibly—these are surely worth while. They may be easily obtained, now that we know of the value of the Vitamine element in food. The Vitamine balances or completes the diet—Fleisch- menn’s Compressed Yeast is one of the few foods rich in a Vitamine. This Yeast can affect most powerfully your physical well being and give you the health that spreads happiness to every one with whom you come in contact. Buy Fleischmann’s Compressed Yeast from your grocer. Be sure it is in the familiar tin-foil cake with the yellow label. Get a copy of “‘ Yeast for Health,” the free book that tells the whole story of the health wonders of Compressed Yeast. Send coupon, filled in, to The Fleischmann Company in your city or any of these THE WAY TO TAKE YEAST Yeast has an_ appetizing, creamy taste. You eat from one half to a whole cake 3 times a day before meals, or take it crumbled in water, Fruit juices. or milk, Yeast is not a drug or medicine. It isa food and a tonic, and as such shou be taken persistently for best results. offices. THE FLEISCHMANN Co. 701 Washington Street, New York 327 S. LaSalle St. iosion St. \ FREE BOOK COUPON To: The Fleischmann Co. (address in C-720, as offered in this advertisement. your city or nearest office). You may send me without cost your “Yeast for Health” Book Fill in and mail this coupon today., Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 | touched her arm with hisown. The voice behind droned on: | “*T am going tolivea newlife. M.D.’ “Next day, the respondent left by the 'steamship Tuscarora for Buenos Aires. Since then, we have nothing from him but a cabled refusal in answer to the letter which my client wrote the following day in great distress, begging him to return to her. With your Ludship’s permission, I shall now put Mrs. Dartie in the box.” When his mother rose, Val had a tre- mendous impulse to rise, too, and say: “Look here! I’m going to see you jolly well treat her decently.””’ He subdued it, |heard her say;-“The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” and looked up. She stood, a rich figure in her |furs and large hat, with a slight. flush on her cheek-bones, calm, matter of fact, and he felt proud of her, thus confronting all these “confounded lawyers.” The exam- ination began. Knowing that this was only the preliminary to divorce, Val fol- lowed, with a certain glee, the questions framed so as to give the impression that she really wanted his father back. They were “foxing Old Bagwigs finely.’? And he had a most unpleasant jar when the judge said suddenly, “Now, why did your husband leave you —not because you called him ‘the limit,’ you know?” He saw his uncle lift his eyes to the witness-box without moving his face, heard a shuffle of papers behind him; in- stinct told him that the issue was in peril. Had uncle Soames and the old buffer made a mess of it? ~His mother was speaking with a slight drawl. “No, my Lord; but it had gone on a long time.” “What had gone on?” “Our differences about money.” “But you supplied the money. Do you suggest that he left you to better his position?” “The brute! The old brute, and noth- ing but the brute!” thought Val suddenly. “He smells a rat —he’s trying to get at the pastry!” And his heart stood still. If— if he did, then, of course, he would know that his mother didn’t really want his father back. His mother spoke again, a thought more fashionably. “No, my Lord; but, you see, I had re- fused to give him any more money. It took him a long time to believe that; but he did at last—and when he did——”’ “T see. Youhad refused. But you’ve sent him some since.” “My Lord, I wanted him back.” “And you thought that would bring him?” “T don’t know, my Lord; I acted on my father’s advice.” Something in the judge’s face, in the sound of the papers behind him, in the sud- den crossing of his uncle’s legs, told Val that she had made just the right answer. “Crafty!” he thought. “By Jove, what humbug it all is!” The judge was speaking. “Just one more question, Mrs. Dartie. Are you still fond of your husband?” Val’s hands, slack beside him, became fists. What business had that judge to make things human? To make his mother speak out of her heart, say what, perhaps, she didn’t know herself—before all these people! It wasn’t decent. His mother answered, rather low, | } h i ul = ~ SA. | W ome sel --f-— 4. be the aw | Pie fap 4 M wel | < res ‘ iga the 2no Joc | ‘D nal twe by q the Sc on } givi H plat mar You | M With Win lune / / / of d 4 YEAsT / / litt] / Street Address | glass 7 on t woul

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 “Yes, my Lord.” Val saw the judge nod. ‘Wish I could have a shy at your head!” he thought irreverently. His mother came back to her seat beside him. There were witnesses | to his father’s departure and continued absence—one of their own maids, even, which struck him as particularly beastly— | and some more talking—all humbug; and then the judge pronounced the decree for restitution, and they got up to go. Val walked out betind his mother, chin squared, eyelids drooped, coing his level best to despise everybody. His mother’s | voice in the corridor roused him from an angry trance. x “You behaved beautifully, dear. It | was such a comfort to have you. Your | uncle and I are going to lunch.” peg “All right,” said Val. . “I shall have | time te go and see that fellow.” And, | parting from them abruptly, he ran down the stairs and out into the air. He bolted into a hansom and drove to the Goat’s Club. His thoughts were on Holly and what he must do before her b:other showed her this thing in to-morrow’s per. phen Val had left them, Soames and Winifred made their way to The Cheshire Cheese. He had suggested it as a ren- dezvous with Mr. Bellby. At that early hour of noon, they would have it to them- selves, and Winifred had thought it would be “amusing” to see this far-famed hos- telry. Having ordered a light repast, to the consternation of the waiter, they awaited its arrival together with that of Mr. Bellby, in silent reaction after the hour and a half’s suspense on the tenter-hooks of publicity. Mr. Bellby entered, preceded by his nose. He was as cheerful as they were glum. They had got the decree of restitution, and what was the matter with that? “Yes,” said Soames, in the low iones suitable; “but we shall have to begin ygain to get evidence. He'll probably try the divorce—it will look fishy if it comes out that we knew of misconduct from the start. His questions showed well onough that he doesn’t like this restitution Jodge.” “Pho!” said Mr. Bellby cheerily. “Don’t mind um. He’ll forget! Why, nan, he’ll have tried a hundred cases be- tween now and then. Besides, he’s bound by precedent to give ye your divorce if the evidence is satisfactory. We won’t let um know that Mrs. Dartie had knowledge of the facts. Dreamer did it very nicely— he’s got a fatherly touch about um.” Soames nodded. compliment ye, Mrs. Dartie,”’ went on Mr. Bellby. “Ye’ve a natural gift for giving evidence. Steady as a rock.” Here the waiter arrived with three plates balanced on one arm, and the re- mark: “I ’urried up the pudden, sir. You'll find plenty o’ lark in it to-day.” Mr. Bellby applauded this forethought with a dip of his nose. But Soames and Winifred looked with dismay at their light |- lunch of gravified brown masses, touching them gingerly with their forks in the hope of distinguishing the bodies of the tasty little song-givers. Having begun, how- ever, they found they were hungrier than they thought, and finished the lot, with a _ glass of port apiece. Conversation turned on the war. Soames thought Ladysmith would fall and it would last a year. Bellby iy months’ wear definitely and positively guaranteed HEN you buy Raybestos brake lining you know what to expect in the way of service. Raybestos is guaranteed to WEAR one year. There are no “‘ifs” attached to this guarantee. There are no “‘adjustments’’ or “qualifications.” - You can drive 500 miles, or you can travel 50,000 miles. That guarantee stands as it is written. You are entitled to one year’s WEAR when you buy Raybestos and should Raybestos fail to sustain our guarantee, we furnish new lining gratis. It paysto buy— Why spend good money for non-guaranteed lining? Why accept any old kind of lining when you can so easily have Raybestos? Look for the Silver Edge THE RAYBESTOS COMPANY Factories Bridgeport Conn. Peterboro Cinads 167 | | | | | | | } |

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The lawyers reassured her. An interval of six months was necessary— after that, the earlier the better. People were now beginning to come in, and they parted—Soames to the City, Bellby to his chambers, Winifred, in a hansom, to Park Lane, to let her mother know how she had fared. The issue had been so satisfactory on the whole that it was considered advis- able to tell James, who never failed to say, day after day, that he didn’t know about Winifred’s affair— he couldn’t tell. As his sands ran out, the importance of mundane matters became increasingly grave to him. It was almost as if he were feeling: ‘‘I must make the most of it, and worry well. I shall soon have nothing to worry about.” He received the news grudgingly. It was a new-fangled way of going about things, and he didn’t know. But he gave Winifred a check, saying: “T expect you'll have a lot of expense. That’s a new hat you’ve got on. Why doesn’t Val come and see us?” Winifred promised to bring him to din- ner soon. And, going home, she sought her bedroom, where she could be alone, and -—now that her husband had been orderéd back into her custody with a view to put- ting him away from her forever—try once more to find out from her sore and lonely heart what she really wanted. XXII THE CHALLENGE THE morning had been misty, verging on frost, but the sun came out while Val was jogging toward the Roehampton Gate, whence he would canter on to the usual tryst. His spirits were rising rapid- ly. There had been nothing so very terri- ble in the morning’s proceedings beyond the general disgrace of violated privacy. “Only,” he thought, “I must tell her, and we must get engaged at once; then what happens afterward won’t matter.so much.” He felt, indeed, like human society in general, which kicks and clamors at the results of matrimony—and hastens to get married. Once in the park, he galloped over the winter-dried grass, fearing to be late. But again he was alone at the trysting-spot. This second defection on the part of Holly upset him dreadfully. He would not go back without seeing her to-day! And, emerging from the park, he proceeded toward the house at Robin Hill. He could not make up his mind for whom to ask. Suppose her father were back—or her sister or brother were in? He decided to gamble, and ask for them all first, so that, if he were in luck and they were not there, it would be quite natural in the end to ask for Holly. If any of them were in, an ‘excuse for a ride” would be his saving grace. “Only Miss Holly is in, sir.” “Oh, thanks! Might I take my horse Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 round to the stables, and would you say— her cousin, Mr. Val Dartie? ” When he returned, she was in the hall, flushed and shy. She led him to the far end, and they sat down on a wide window- seat. ‘“T’ve been awfully anxious,” said Val, in a low voice. ‘‘ What’s the matter?” “Jolly knows about our riding.” “Ts he in?” “No; but I expect he will be soon.” “Then—” Diving forward, he seized her hand. She tried to withdraw it, failed, gave up the attempt, and looked at him wistfully. “By heaven,” he thought, “how sweet she is! I must be awfully careful.” “First of all,” he said, “I want to tell you something about my family. My dad, you know, isn’t altogether—I mean, he’s left my mother and they’re trying to divorce him; so they’ve ordered him to come back, you see. I mean, you'll see that in the paper to-morrow.” Her eyes grew deeper in color, as if in fearful inter- est; her hand squeezed his. The gambler in him was roused now, and he hurried on. “Of course there’s nothing very much at present, but there will be, I expect, before it’s over; divorce suits are beastly, you know. I wanted to tell you, ‘because— because— you ought to know—if”’— and he began to stammer, gazing at her trou- bled eyes—‘‘if—if you’re going to be a darling and love me, Holly. I-love you— ever so; and I want to be engaged.” He had done it in a manner so inadequate that he could have punched his own head; -and, dropping on his knees, he tried to get near- er to that soft, troubled face. ‘“‘ You ca love me—don’t you? If you don’t, I—” There was a moment of silence and sus- pense, so awful that he could hear the sound of a mowing-machine far out on the lawn trying to cut winter grass. Then she swayed forward; her free hand touched his hair, and he gasped: ‘‘Oh! Holly!” Her answer was very soft. Oh! Val! He had dreamed of this moment, but always in an imperative mood, as the mas- terful young lover, and now he felt humble, touched, trembly. He was afraid to stir off his knees for fear of breaking the spell, for fear, if he did, she would shrink and deny her own surrender—she was so tremulous in his grasp, with her eyelids closed and his lips nearing them. Her eyes opened, seemed to swim a little; he pressed his lips to hers. Suddenly he sprang up; there had been footsteps, a sort of startled grunt. He looked round. Nothing! Noone! But the long curtains which barred off the outer hall were quivering. “My God!” he said. Holly, too, was on her feet. in a hushed whisper, “Jolly, I expect.” Val clenched his fists, tried to clench himself all over. “Allright. I don’t care a bit now we're engaged.” He strode toward the curtains and drew them aside. There, at the fireplace in the hall, stood Jolly, with his back elaborately turned. Val went forward. Jolly faced round on him. “TI beg your pardon for hearing,” he said. With the best intentions in the world, Val could not help admiring him at that “Who was that?” She spoke \ DIAMONDS | | | = | | | Qs | | | | Ko | | 7 At Home !

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 1€9 ERY likely you have ob- -Y served that the average family refers to its Hupmobile in a decidedly unusual way. a As a rule, the car is spoken of with real warmth of feelino— as one speaks of an old friend. It naturally pleases us to see that the Hupmobile has won such a tremendous hold on the people. We do not attempt to account for it except on the score of the car’s everlasting faithfulness in the service of its owners. aa A 4 | | <. é | } i j

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Hundreds of original fascinating articles in every issue. 120 pages written by authorities on subjects of daily interest to you, Broaden your knowledge and be able to talk intelligently " ELECTRICAL about the latest scientific achievements. Its the well read man who succeeds in business and social life. Start with this EXPERIMENTER month's issue. You will ENJOY reading it. SCIENCE AND INVENTION . 25¢ AT ALL NEWS STANDS—cr direct by mail $3.00 a year. The Undi d Experimenter Publishing Co., 233 Fulton St., N.Y.C. Simplified ~ A Porch You'll Enjoy All famed EROLUX VENTILATING PorcH SHADES make any porch livable and coinfort- able. Half outdoors and half inside such a summer porch offers all the joys and delights of the out-of-doors—comfort with economy. Aerolux Porch Shades, made of thin linwood splints, protect against the summer snn, against rain and wind. While affording perfect seclusion, they permit the cool, re- freshing breezes to enter. Adaptable to sleeping porch and sun parlor as well; easy to install and operate. How to Select Porch Shades Get this information by writing for freelitera- ture, diagrams, suggestion on shading, color, measurements, arrangement and simplicity of hanging; also name of Aerolux dealer. THE AEROSHADE COMPANY 223 Oakland Avenue, Waukesha, Wis. DERMA VIVA Whitens the Skin at Once or Money Back f Is used in place of powder, has same —— effect but does not show. S Red, Brown or Dark Face, Neck, Arms = or Hands made a beautiful white at once or money cheerfully refunded. Absolutely Harmless tertaining or being entertained. you will H find exquisite ‘satiafaction in your skin so beautiful. Accept no substi Try Derma Viva Rouge also, purely vegetable. In mirrored box, with puff. A {Either article sold at every tollet counteror sent / prepaid upon receipt of 52c. ; Derma Viva Co. / 612 So.Dearborn St. Chicago, Illinois | Canadian Agents VENTILATING Wilson import Company” 100 Burnside Place PORCH SHADES Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 moment. His face was clear, his voice quiet. He looked somehow distinguished, as if acting up to principle. “Well?” he saidjabruptly. “It’s noth- ing to you.” “Qh!” said Jolly. ‘You come this way.” And he crossed the hall. Val fol- lowed. At the study door, he felt a touch on his arm; Holly’s voice said, “T’m coming, too.” “No,” said Jolly. “Yes,” said Holly. Jolly opened the door, and they all three went in. Once in the little room, they stood in a sort of triangle on the three corners of the worn Turkey carpet, awk- wardly upright, not looking at each other, quite incapable of seeing any humor in the situation. Val broke the silence. “Holly and I are engaged.” Jolly stepped back and leaned against the lintel of the window. “This is our house,” he said. “I’m not going to insult youinit. But my father’s , away. I’minchargeofmysister. You’ve | taken advantage of me.” “T didn’t mean to,” said Val hotly. “T think you did,” said Jolly. “If you hadn’t meant to, you’d have spoken to me, or waited for my father to come back.” “There were reasons,” said Val. “What reasons?” “About my family—I’ve just told her. I wanted her to know before things hap- pen.’ Jolly suddenly became less distin- guished. “You're kids,” he said, ‘‘and you know you are.” “T am not a kid,” said Val. “You are—you’re not twenty.” “Well, what are you?” “T am twenty,” said Jolly. “Only just. Anyway, I’m as good a man as you.” Jolly’s face crimsoned and clouded. Some struggle was evidently taking place in him, and both the others gazed with surprise—so clearly was that struggle marked; they could even hear him breath- ing. Then his face cleared up and. be- came oddly resolute. “We'll see that,” he said. ‘I dare you to do what I’m going to do.” “Dare me?” Jolly smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Dare you; and I know very well you won't.” A stab of misgiving shot through Val; this was riding very blind. “T haven’t forgotten that you're a fire- eater,’ said Jolly slowly, ‘‘and I think that’s about all you are—or that you called me a pro-Boer.” Val heard a gasp above the sound of his own hard breathing and saw Holly’s face poked a little forward, very pale, with big eyes. “Yes,” went on Jolly, with a sort of . smile; ‘‘we shall soon see. I’m going to join the Imperial Yeomanry, and I dare you to do the same, Mr. Val Dartie.” Val’s head jerked on its stem. It was like a blow between the eyes, so utterly unthought of, so extreme and ugly in the midst of his dreaming, and he looked at Holly with eyes grown suddenly touch- ingly haggard. “Sit down,” said Jolly. “Take your time. Think it over well.” And he him- ( Monn | 2 q if Y | cl | in F More Home to the House" tt =F 3 = } t | | = \ y/ = tI IE i= | | | he =| | = i ‘ | | | =4 re

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 173 How One Evening Learned The Secret of Drawin By Walter Sayden draw things. I suppose there are hun- dreds of young fellows who feel the same way as I did. I often said that if it were possi- ble, I should choose commercial art as a pro- fession. It was not only the big salaries and _ independence enjoyed by artists and cartoonists that appealed to me, it was the fascination of the game itself. But I could hardly draw a straight line. My friends used to have laughing hyster- ics at my attempts to sketch things. One morning, as I was coming into town on the eight o’clock train, L met Larry Stafford. I had come into town with him every day for years, usually passing the time discussing ‘the morning papers. But this particular morning he had a pad and pencil in his hand. He was drawing little pictures of things that looked like a series of small animals. “What on earth are you | ee boyhood, I have always wanted to He was drawing little pictures to establish. _ He looked at the pic- tures and caught my idea at once. Before I left he gave me a larger order thanI had ‘ ever before received from \ him. My pictures had put my idea over. This worked so well, that I tried it again—several times, in fact—and each time I got the same results. My pictures seemed to make a stronger appeal than my words, and my sales increased tremendously. But that was not all. Two weeks later, I overheard a conversation that struck me as amusing. I wrote it down, illustrated it, and, just for fun, sent it to one of the humorous = NS aa vial. weeklies. A few days later, to my great surprise and pleasure, I re- ceived a check from the art editor anda request for more contributions. From that time on, I sent in little sketches and jokes, more or less regularly. A few months ago, I received an offer which startled me. The magazine for which I doing?” I asked in amazement. Larry smiled. “Don’t be afraid. I am quite sane. These little pictures are part of a scheme of mine. Iam illustrating an idea. They are supposed to be a graphic representation of a deal I am putting over. They speak louder than words.” I watched him—amazed to see that he drew very well in- deed. As he proceeded, and the drawings became more life- like, my curiosity was aroused —lI asked him about it. “Why, [am surprised that you ask me!” he answered. “Look how easy it all is’—and he quickly sketched a few other figures and grinned at my amazement. “There is just one little secret of the whole thing, Walter,” he added. “I never drew be- fore in my life, and you see—these. little sketches really are not bad, are they? You have always wanted to draw, and even if you don’t become an artist, you will find it a mighty convenient thing to know. This secret makes drawing as easy as writing. Let’s get together this evening, and I’ll show you how ~ simple it is—I’ll give you a little lesson. The Greatest Surprise of My Life That night I was astonished to learn that there was but One Great Rule that covered every sort of drawing. I mastered this rule in just fifty-minutes, and in two hours found that I could draw. Think of it! It was almost like magic. I had never before been able to draw a recognizable object. At this time I was a salesman, so that the only time that I had to practice and apply this secret, this rule, was in spare minutes when at the office or at home. But I progressed with almost unbelievable rapidity. My First Real Drawing One day I was talking with a buyer.. Re- membering Larry’s “‘idea-pictures,” I drew some figures to illustrate the point I was trying Mr. Charles Lederer, the well known newspaper cartoonist, after years of practicai work- ing experience, has developed one great simple rule for suc- cess in all branches of com- mercial art. This amazing secret has revolutionized the entire theory of drawing. It means that drawing can be as easy for you as writing. Out of his many years of work-a-day experience, Mr. Lederer offers This One Big Secret of Drawing to all. had been drawing wished to take me on the regular staff at a much greater salary than I was then making. My love of drawing came strongly to the front and, need- less to say, I accepted at once, and the first thing I did was to tell Larry Stafford, what his idea has led to. When he heard that I was actually a successful artist on a real magazine he gasped with amazement. I told him how the same One Great Rule of drawing which had made it easy for him to draw had meant even more to me—and how this simple home-study course of the famous artist, Charles Lederer, which we had gone over that evening had given me the secret which had. meant so much. Larry laughed at my enthusiasm, but ad- mitted that such a remarkable success as mine was enough to make a man a bit optimistic. Easier than Learning to Operate a Typewriter Through this amazing system, drawing can be taught as easily as anything else. In his simple home-study course this world-famous cartoonist, Charles Lederer, teaches you to draw just as a business school teaches you to keep books, or operate a typewriter or write shorthand. But it is a hundred times simpler than any of those accomplishments. And the best part of it all is, that the course teaches you to draw so that you can sell your pictures right from the start. That is really the most important part after all. Everyone wants to sell his work, and that is just what you can do, with Mr. Lederer’s great secret. Don’t misunderstand, I am not praising myself. The point is this—if I, who never was able to draw at all, could achieve this really remarkable success, others can do the same, or better. See for yourself,—send for the course and try it out. If you can draw at all you will probably get along even faster than I, and you will find modern commercial art the most fas- cinating and delightful work imaginable. Re- The Most Fascinating Business in the World member, that opportunities in this uncrow d field are unlimited. There is a constantly growing demand for cartoonists and illustra- tors. If you like to draw, or if you think that you would like to draw, don’t miss this won- derful opportunity to learn in an evening or twg of your spare time. Five Days’ Free Trial We want you to prove to your own satisfac- tion the tremendous value of Mr. Lederer’s discovery. It will not cost you one penny. We want you to examine the Entire Course at our expense for five days. If you will just fill out the coupon below, detach it and mail it to us, we will gladly send you the complete course for your approval. We feel sure that when you see the surprising simplicity of this method you will agree with us that it is the greatest dis- covery ever made in this field. k it over, test it out—then if after five days you decide that you want it, send us $7.00. If you do not wish to keep it, return it to us and forget the matter. But act AT ONCE. Learn to draw— whether or not your aim is commercial art. It is a big asset no matter what field you are in. - Let us disclose to you the whole secret. De- tach the coupon and MAIL IT TODAY. INDEPENDENT CORPORATION Dept. D-377, 319 Sixth Ave., New York City (FREE EXAMINATION COUPON) Independent Corporation Publishers of The Independent Weekly Dept. D-377, 319 Sixth Ave., New York City You may send me the Course or Courses checked below. Within five days after receipt I will either remail the course fes courses) or send you the price indicated after each in full payment. (0 The Lederer Art omens ($7). By Cha Ledere: Super-belesmans: nip ($7). By Arthur Newcomb. Roth Memory Course ($7). By David ot How to Read Character at Sight (37). M. H. Blackfora. Frederick Houk Law Practioal Course in Personal Efficiency ($7) By Edward Earle Purinton. me Account Si System ($3.50)... Independent eWeekly ($3). Oo 0 Mastery of of Speech ($7) Oo Oo 2 issues—15c per copy). Nu il |

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174 Lift Corns Out With Fingers A few drops of Freezone loosen corns or calluses so they lift off Apply a few drops of | Freezone upon a touchy corn or a callus. The soreness stops and shortly the entire corn or callus loosens and can be lifted off without a twinge of pain. Freezone removes hard corns, soft corns, also corns between the toes and hardened calluses. Freezone does not irritate the surrounding skin. You feel no pain when applying it or afterward. Women! Keep a tiny bottle of Freezone on your dresser and never let a corn ache twice. Tiny bottle costs few cents at drug stores—anywhere Send no money. Jui wonderful, dazzling, genuine Tifnite Gem rin 10 days. If you can fell it from a diamond, sen No.1. Solid gold |. No.2. Solid No. 3. Solid gold mounting. Eight ~ Ladies’ newest six-prong genuineTif- strip of paper Sitting eround second = of send etn upon arrival, u pay ouly font until the pre e $16.50 is paid for either within ten ays and we will — any offer is limi Send while it holds The: Tifnite Gem Co. Dept. 6 697 CHICAGO, ILL, XXIII DINNER AT JAMES’ DINNER-PARTIES Were not now given at James’ in Park Lane—to every house the moment comes when master or mistress is no longer “up to it,”’ and no more can nine ‘courses be served to twenty mouths above ‘twenty fine white expanses, and the house- hold cat no longer wonders why she is ‘suddenly shut up. So, with something like excitement, ‘Emily—w ho, at seventy, would still have liked a little feast and fashion now and | then—ordered dinner for six instead of two, jherself wrote a number of foreign words on cards, and arranged the flowers, mimosa from the Riviera, and white Roman hyacinths not from Rome. There would only be, of course, themselves, Soames, Winifred, Val, and Imogen; but she liked to pretend a little and dally in imagination with the glory of the past. And she so dressed herself that James remarked: “What are you putting on that thing for? You'll catch cold.” But Emily knew that the necks of wo- men are protected by love of shining unto fourscore years. And she only answered: ‘Let me put you on one of those dickeys I got you, James; then you'll only have to change your trousers and put on your velvet coat, and there you'll be. Val likes you to look nice.” “*Dickey!’” said James. “You're al- ways wasting your money on something or other.” But he suffered the change to be made, murmuring vaguely, ““He’s an extravagant chap, I’m afraid.” A little brighter in the eye, with rather more color than usual in his cheeks, he took his seat in the drawing-room to wait for the sound of the front-door bell. “T’ve made it a proper dinner-party,” Emily said comfortably. ‘I thought it would be nice for Imogen; she must get used to it now she’s coming out.” James uttered an indeterminate sound, thinking of Imogen as she used to climb about his knee or pull Christmas crackers with him. “She'll be pretty,” he muttered; “I shouldn’t wonder.” “She is pretty,” said Emily; “she ought to make a good match.” “There you go!” murmured James. ‘She’d much better Stay at home and look after her mother.” A second Dartie ‘carrying off his pretty granddaughter ,would finish him. He had never quite forgiven Emily for having been as much taken in by Montagu Dartie as he himself had been. ‘“‘Where’s Warmson?” he said suddenly. “T should likea glass of Madeira tonight.” ‘““There’s champagne, James.” James shook his head. “T can’t get any good out of it,” he said. “Tt’s got no body.” Emily reached forward on her side of the fire and rang the bell. “Your master would like a bottle of Madeira opened, Warmson.” “No, no!” said James, the tips of his ears quivering with vehemence and his eyes fixed on an object seen by him alone. “Look here, Warmson: You go to the end of the inner cellar, and on the middle shelf of the last bin on the left you'll see seven bottles, take the one in the center, Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 and don’t shake it. It’s the last of the Madeira I had from Mr. Jolyon when we came in here—never been moved; it ought to be in prime condition still. But I don’t know; I can’t tell.” “Very good, sir,” drawing Warmson. “IT was keeping it for our golden wed- din’,” said James suddenly, “but I sha’n’t live three years at my age.” “Nonsense, James!” said Emily. “Don’t talk like that.” “T ought to have got it up myself,” murmured James; “he’ll shake it as likely as not.” And he sank into silent recollec- tion of long moments with the open gas- jets and the cobwebs and the good smell of wine-soaked corks, which had been appetizer to so many feasts. In the wine from that cellar was written the history of the forty-seven years since he had come to the Park Lane house with his young bride, of many generations of friends and ac- quaintances who had passed into the un- known; its depleted bins preserved the record of family festivity—all the mar- riages, births, deaths of his kith and kin. And when he was gone, there it would be, and he didn’t know what would become of it. It’d be drunk or spoiled, he shouldn’t wonder! From that deep reverie the entrance of his son dragged him, followed immediately by that of Winifred and her two eldest. They went down arm in arm, James with Imogen, the débutante, because his pretty grandchild cheered him; Soames with Winifred; Emily with Val, whose eyes brightened lighting on oysters, which meant that this was to be a proper full “blowout” with “fizz” and port. He felt in need of it, after what he had done that day, as yet undivulged. After the first glass or two, it became pleasant to have this bombshell up his sleeve—this piece of sensational patriotism, or example, rather, of personal daring, to display—for his pleasure in what he had done for his queen and country was so far wholly personal. He was now a “blood,” indissolubly con- nected with guns and horses; he had a right to swagger—not, of course, that he was going to. He should just announce it quietly, when there was a pause. And, glancing down the menu, he determined on “ Bombe aux fraises” as the proper moment; there would be a certain solemnity while they were eating that. Once or twice be- fore they reached that rosy summit of the dinner, he was attacked by remembrance that his grandfather was never told any- thing. Still, the old boy was drinking Madeira and looking jolly fit. Besides, he ought to be pleased at this set-off to the disgrace of the divorce. The sight of his uncle opposite, too, was a sharp incentive. He was so far from being a sportsman that jt would be worth a lot to see his face. Besides, better tell his mother in this way than privately, which might upset them both. He was sorry for her, but, after all, one couldn’t be expected to feel it much when one had to part from Holly. His grandfather’s voice traveled thinly down the table. “Val, try a little of the Madeira with your ice. You won’t get that up at college.” Val watched the slow liquid filling his glass, the essential oil of the old wine glaz- ing the surface, inhaled its aroma, and thought, *‘Now for it:” It was a rich moment. He sipped, and a gentle glow responded the with- * | | | For 10 Days Wear

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AS tells the truth on the open road. There it squares to the test, or fails. Speed and power are helpless if the road is master of the car. Drive Saxon. Marvel at its roadability. Send it with buoyant comfort, at forty miles an "fs hour, over roads that would torture the average car at fifteen. The secret rests with Saxon’s unusually deep frame ’ of channel steel, cradled over Duplex springs of two-fold EN8 Neer. ln cushioning power. Through and through Saxon, Duplex i ° engineering has introduced ‘totally new standards which masters road Fs 1G, place this car two years ahead of present-day performance. Sax 0 Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 175 |

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This famous Dr. Scholl Home Treatment complete and in generous quantity is $1 at shoe, departmert, and many drug stores every where. ¥ rite to The Scholl Mfg. Co., 507 W. Schiller St., Chicago, [il., for free copy of Dr. Scholl’ 's valuable booklet, “The Feet and Their Care,’ and free samples of the home treatment. Dr Scholls Foot Comfort Appliances Darkens Eyebrows and hes much longer, thicker # and more luxuriant 4 than they really are— } easily applied and per- 5 fectly harmless. ure harmless cream, ap- plied inightly Nature ina marvelous way in — and geting, the gro’ the eyebrows and lashes. Dark, luxuriant eyelashes and well formed ow wonderfully they bring out the deep soulful ex- uty to any face sed and recom- reen and beautiful ‘at DEALER'S direct from, avoid disap or dire ment with imitations always look for’ “THE MAYBELLG RL ns. AYBELL L. 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He took a rapid look round and said, “T joined the Imperial Yeomanry to-day, granny.” And he emptied his glass as though drinking the health of his own act. “What!” His mother’s desolate little word broke the following hush. “Young Jolly Forsyte and I went down there. together.” “You didn’t sign?’’ Soames spoke. “Rather! We gointo camp on Monday.” “T say!” cried Imogen. All looked at James. He was leaning forward with his hand behind his ear. ““What’s that?” he said. ‘‘What’s he saying? I can’t hear.” Emily reached forward and patted Val’s hand. “Now, James! It’s only that Val has joined the Yeomanry; it’s very nice for him. He’ll look his best in uniform.” “Joined the—rubbish!” James’ voice was tremulously loud. ‘You can’t see two yards before your nose. He—he’ll have to go out there—he’ll be fighting before he knows where he is.”’ Val saw Imogen’s eyes admiring him, and his mother, still and fashionable, with her handkerchief before her lips. Suddenly his uncle spoke. “Vou’re under age.” “T thought of that,” smiled Val. gave my age as twenty-one.’ He heard his grandmother’s admiring: “Well, Val, that was plucky of you,” was conscious of Warmson deferentially filling his champagne-glass, of his grandfather’s voice moaning, don’t know what'll be- come of you if you go on like this.” Imogen was patting his shoulder, his uncle looking at him sidelong, only his mother sat unmoving, and, affected by her stillness, he said: “Tt’s all right, you know; we shall soon have them on the run. I only hope I shall come in for something.” He felt elated, sorry, tremendously im- portant all at once. This would show uncle Soames and all the Forsytes how to be sportsmen. He had certainly done something heroic and exceptional in giving his age as twenty-one. Emily’s voice brought him back to earth. “You mustn’t have a second glass, James. Warmson!” “Won’t they be astonished at Tim- othy’s?” burst out Imogen. “I’d give anything to see their faces. Do you have a sword, Val, or only a pop-gun?”’ “What made you?” His uncle’s voice produced a slight chill in the pit of Val’s stomach. Madehim? Um! “T don’t know; I thought I ought.” But he was grateful for his grandmother’s comfortable: » “Well, I think it’s very plucky of Val. I’m sure he’ll make a splendid soldier; he’s just the figure for it. We shall all be proud of him.” “What had young Jolly Forsyte to do with it? Why did you go together?” pursued Soames, uncannily relentless. “I thought you weren’t friendly with him?” “T’m not,” said Val; “but I wasn’t going to be beaten by him.” He saw his uncle look at him quite differently, as if approving. His grandfather was nodding, too, his grandmother tossing her head. They all approved of his not being beaten | Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 by that cousin of his. Why? What was there? Some reason, some disturbing point, like the unlocated center of a cy- clone? And, staring at his uncle’s face, he had a quite unaccountable vision of a woman with dark eyes, gold hair, and a white neck, who smelt nice, and had pretty silken clothes which he had liked feeling when he was quite small—_ By Jove, yes! Aunt Irene! She used to kiss him, and he had bitten her arm once. because he liked it—so soft. His grandfather was speaking. “What’s his father doing?” “He’s away in Paris,” Val said, staring at a new and queer expression on his un- cle’s face, like—like a snarling dog’s. “Artists!” said James. The word, coming from the very bottom of his soul, broke up the dinner. Opposite his mother, in the cab going home, Val tasted the after-fruits of hero- ism, like medlars overripe. She only said, indeed, that he must go to his tailor’s at once and have his uniform properly made, and not just put up with what they gave him. But he could feel that she was very much upset. It was on his lips to console her with the spoken thought, that he would be out of the way of that beastly divorce, but the presence of Imogen and the knowledge that his mother would not be out of the way restrained him. He felt aggrieved that she did not seem more proud of him. When Imogen had gone to bed, he risked the emotional. “I’m awfully sorry to have to leave you, mother.” “Well, I must make the best of it. We must try and get you a commission as soon as we can; then you won’t have to rough itso. Do you know any drill, Val?” a scrap.” “T hope they won’t worry youmuch. I must take you about to get the things to- morrow. Good-night; kiss me.” With that kiss, soft and hot, between his eyes, and those words: “I hope they won’t worry you much,” in his ears, he sat down to a cigarette before a dying fire. The heat was out of him—the glow of cut- ting a dash. It was all a damned, heart- aching bore. “I'll be even with that chap Jolly,” he thought, trailing up the stairs, past the room where his mother was biting her pillow to smother a sense of desolation which was trying to make her sob. And soon only one of the diners at James’ was awake—Soames, in his bedroom above his father’s. So—that fellow Jolyon was in Paris! What was he doing there? Hanging round Irene! The last report from Polteed had hinted that there might be something soon. Could it be this? That fellow, with his beard and his cursed amused way of speaking—son of the old man who had given him the nickname, “Man of Prop- erty,” and bought the fatal house from him. Soames had ever resented having had to sell the house at Robin Hill, never forgiven his uncle for having bought it, or his cousin for living in it. Reckless of the cold, he threw his window up and gazed out across the park. Bleak and dark the January night; little sound of traffic; a frost coming; bare trees; a star or two. “I'll see Polteed to-morrow,” he thought. ‘By God, I’m mad, I think, to want her still! That fellow! If? Um! No!” Soames’ visit to Polteed, the detective, and a most unexpected upset to the plans of Winifred Dartie—in the next instalment of In Chancery, in August Cosmopolitan. | | | il | | | | | | | | | | v7 #\ It makes them appear }J ‘ | eyebrows, 4 of hese _famd | | | antee you will be delighted or refund price. Tear out this ad right now so M 4305—43 | } | |

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Method THE TONE AMPLIFIER With Grill Removed uction Judge by the Tone —that is the way to select a phonograph LL: makes of phonographs are not alike. Phonographs differ because of different methods of re- production. Each make has its method. But time has brought many ad- vancements. New-day phono- graphs bring all that is best. The House of Brunswick has introduced several dominant bet- terments. First came The Ultona, our all-record reproducer. It brought a phonograph that would play all records at their best. Previously, each phonograph fa- vored only its own make of records. That meant limitations or bother- some attachments to the record. At a turn of the hand The UI- tona presents the proper needle, the proper diaphragm. No make- shift attachments are necessary, no compromises in tone results, The Ultona brings out all the shadings of reproduction for trans- mittal to the amplifier. HERE, again, is a new concep- tion. We introduced an all- wood, moulded, oval amplifier, connecting directly with the tone arm, with no cast metal throat between. This brings full tones, non-me- tallic. It conforms with acoustic laws. It brings a new naturalness, greater reality. Our aim is for finest tone. So we ask you to hear The Brunswick first—before you de- cide. You'll recognize instantly its betterments. Your idea of tone will change. You will realize that great advancements have taken place. We suggest also that you hear Brunswick Records, which like- wise bring improvements. You'll want to add some to your collec- tion. Brunswick Records can be played on any phonograph with steel or fibre needle. The nearest Brunswick dealer will be glad to play this super- instrument for you—so that you will know by comparison that it offers new delights. THE BRUNSWICK -BALKE - COLLENDER COMPANY General Offices: 623-633 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago Branch riouses in Principal Cities of United States, Mexico and Canada PHONOGRAPHS Canadian Di: Musical Merchandise Sales Co., 819 Yonge St., Toronto AND RECORDS | Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 | 177 ¢ SWICK | ; \\ | | = | | | |

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Cosmopolitan for July, 1920 } Ww - |

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Man alive— Listen! You can smoke Camels till the cows come home without tiring your taste! AMELS bring to you every joy you ever looked for in a cigarette! They are so new to your taste, so delightful in their mellow mildness and flavor, and so refreshing, you will marvel that so much enjoyment could be put into a cigarette! Camels quality is as unusual as Camels expert blend of choice Turkish and choice Domestic tobaccos which you will prefer to either kind of to- bacco smoked straight! No matter how liberally you smoke, Camels never will tire your taste! You will marvel at Camels smooth “body”. And, your delight will also be keen when you realize Camels leave no unpleasant cigaretty aftertaste nor un- 2 pleasant cigaretty odor! For your own personal proof, compare Camels with any cigarette in the world at any price. Camels are sold everywhere in scientifically sealed packages of 20 cigarettes for 20 cents; or ten packages (200 cigarettes) in a glassine-paper-covered carton. We strongly recommend this carton for the home or office supply or when you travel. R. J. REYNOLDS TOBACCO CO. Winston-Salem, N. C. — = kong = == +t = Ss > SS: = Se = = = SS SS @ =

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Five Million More Tires than last How much More Tire a car owner gradually becoming conscious of his tires. If his first tires don’t give him what he has been led to expect, you will see him going back to the dealer for an allowance. inally he reaches the point where he prefers to shoulder his losses himself rather than argue the matter out with the dealer. Meet him a year later and you will probably find him with two or three different makes of tires on his car. [: IS interesting to watch * * There is less conviction in the minds of motorists about tires today than about any other subject connected with motoring. The driver of the car in the foreground probably does not realize that by rounding the corner too quickly he may be taking as much as a thousand miles out of his rear tires. A great deal of tire trouble can be avoided by slowing down to a reasonable speed in nego- tiating corners. Despite all the claims, all the allowances, all the selling talks that are presented for the motorist’s consideration, he goes along in his own way, seeking the tire that will give him the greatest economy. Often you see him run- ning foul of the irresponsible dealer. But sooner or later he finds out that claims and allow- ances and selling talks can never take the place of per- formance. More and more motorists are coming to realize that the only way to tire economy is through better tires. Avoid- ing the dealer whose idea of business is merely to fill the eye or to supply a market and going direct to the mer- chant who deals in quality. Never has the United States Rubber Company’s policy of quality first been more thor- oughly justified or widely ap- preciated than it is today. Discounting, as it does, every temptation to force production in favor of a highly specialized, wholly standardized product. * * * Even when the productiom, of U. S. Tires has reached two or three times its present figure, the test will still be not howmanytires— but howgood. United States Tires United States @© Rubber Company _ The oldest ana largest Two hundred and thirty-five Branches — THE SCHWEINLER PRESS TS a) we | | | : Fifty-three fastories Rubber Organization in the World i