The Saturday Evening Post 1927-06-11: Vol 199 Iss 50

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THE me AY Volume 199, Number 50 JUNE I,'27 ~* ao Bf Kennett Harris—James Warner Bellah—James M.Cain—Thomas Beer Horatio Winslow— Coles Phillips — Frank Condon—F. Britten Austin ¥

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Se NER it Se RI ee A Fairy Tale for the Children 9 story of the Princess Bon Ami, her Bunny Knights and their the foot of the rainbow! Written in amusing rhyme wit fully colored book will bring muct kiddies. Send 4 cents in stamps for a copy. Use this coupon s. Address The Bon Ami Co., 10 Battery Place, New York America’s Favorite Window Cleaner For thirty-six years Bon Ami Cake has been helping millions of women keep windows and mirrors crystal clear and spotless. Safe, easy—really fun! With a damp cloth apply a thin lather of Bon Ami all over the glass. When it dries, whisk off the film with a clean, dry cloth. You’ ll be proud of the radiant beauty —nota streak, not a smear remains. And remember, Bon Ami Caée has a partner—Bon Ami Powder. You'll like it for cleaning and polishing many things. Both forms have the same magic ingredients—both blot up dirt without hard scrubbing or rubbing. Never redden or roughen the hands. ‘Principal uses of Bon Am ws for cleaning and polishing » Bathtubs Tiling Windows Mirrors Kine Kitchen Utensils White Woodwork 2 Glass Baking Dishes White Shoes The Hands Aluminum Brass Copper Tin and Nickel Ware Refrigerators Congoleum Floor-Coverings THE BON AMI COMPANY . - . NEW YORK In Canada—BON AMI LIMITED, MONTREAI most housewlves use both)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Westclox Vacation time UST you and the folks you like best, miles away from the daily grind. That’s what you’d call a real vacation! Do as you please; turn in and get up when it suits you—but there’ll be a routine to observe, with duties for everyone to CLOCK ry: Peru, I WESTERN ada: W t COM PANY, 4 share. So you'll want a good alarm clock and a sturdy reli- able watch. Take America, $1.50. Carry Pocket Ben, the $1 S0 Westclox watch. 7 hey’ll ‘“‘say when” accurately. Like all West- , clox, they are good vacation companions —and they’ll serve you faithfully at home, too, long after you get back. LASALLE, ILLINOIS, U.53.A.

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SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 for SIX PEOPLE “td fy fa in! AA ARAARAYS © ONEIDA COMMUNITY, LTD ONEIDA, N.Y

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satan a atieielelieusedaiiaimiiennenindiamiaanis Published Weekly George Horace Lorimer . ~ . ° . i Ivor The Curtis Publishing KSB .W. Neo 2 ompany ] Bb. Wesley W.S aaa IVENING POST Wilham Bord, Advertis dD kndinpenninnice Dears aaa Founded A’D' 1728 Ay Benj. Franklin eke : London: 6, Henrietta Street Covent Garden, W.¢ . right, 1927, by The ¢ F ’ ' Patent Office and in Foreign Countries. E ed ‘ M } Or

Volume 199 Sc. THE Copy PHILADELPHIA, PA., JUNE 11, 1927 aa Number 56 JAlIIDIDIEIN I OIRCIES JIN CIEUINA 5 CAA G <2 HE West- By If. Brit vem Austin earth ern world has be come

vaguely — - es —— ————— ' ‘ ( aware that some- pn 71S brewing in China which aentai civilization with a catastropne mparable tothat

f f 1914 8. The thy ncel of the Ay ; Der natio more t! r iguely | = ware of it-—in the a past lew months {| ‘ they have awak- ‘ ened to an acute real on ol a " t perli they hope to conjure away t y but the peoples, wit al j part 4 ul | |

mistily, blurred nd distorted, hrough a_ cloud ol diuigently emit- ' ted world-wide , preparatory prop | | | aganda whi h had L o parallelin 1914, nor, indeed, at any other period. rh ey are ex! orted

to beheve and | " | , yaa have extensively | APSE ae a

been made to be- . , ’ British Bluejackets Marching leve that the Through Hong: Kong Shortly ( hinese upheaval After They Had Landed but the convul- At Left—Chinese Mission Chil dren With an American Girtin the Canton Foreign Quarter ive movement of a great people stirring from long slumber to a consciousness of its nationality —that and nothing more. Other nations are invited to be not only patient but sympathetic with their nationalistic aspirations. Democracy’s Safeguard of Public Opinion HERE is some truth in this. A section, proportionately small but disproportionately articulate, of the Chinese myriads has, indeed, wakened to a sense of nationality and a sense of more or less justified grievance; and they have received muchsympathy. Peoples ‘nobly struggling to be free”’ have evoked the instinctive good will of the English-speaking ee peoples at least ever since the eighteenth-century day that “freedom t shrieked as Kosciusko fell’’; Corsicans, Greeks, Spanish Americans ‘ Italians, Poles, Armenians, Turks have all in turn aroused it and to a : w! greater or less degree benefited by it. accentuate The idea of China a nation, in full sovereignty as such, has not} ng init Ww ! 6 ienta is repugnant to the English-speaking nations emphatically the reverse. But there i M ynaries and t

And even the Nationalist movement not quite so simple

as at first sight it seems. Some of the most formidable ambitions that ever devastated I

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well among them. He was not, however, allowed to we n the Chinese cities. He was segregated to outside often unhealthy swamps or sand bars in the vicinity the ports. That was the origin of the foreign concessions { settlements which, now that they contain magnificent eign-built cities, are the object of such bitter Chinese r covetousness. eteenth century also saw a transforma- position relative to her geographical neigh- she had been stolidly remote in an isolation yunded by authentically barbarian peoples. But with nil century the great inland power of Russia, irred from access to warm water at Constantinople, g across the Asiatic wastes with the definite And sea to the eastward, the island and imme weepnll of reaching warm water at the Pacific. un narrow equally hermit kingdom of Japan was startled out of its long sleep by the guns of Commodore Perry in 1854. Japan awoke with a strange new youth to an immense the eventual hegemony of the Orient and the gigantic neighbor which had been the In pursuance of that am- new ambition the control of parent of her ancient civilization. ion, Japan spoke somewhat sharply to China in 1874, yund the Chinese colossus unapt for war, and annexed the Riu-kiu Islands—the first step in a series of annexations hich was to cenvert the China Sea into the Japanese lake which it now is. Twenty years later, in 1894, she captured \rthur and got a foothold on the mainland. But Russia was then already penetrating Mar ‘huria; e spoke to her friends in Europe, and a collective note politely invited Japan to get out. She got out—and waited wr ten years. In 1904, body of a latalisticaily inert China, she fought over the prostrate THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 Fi- -_ nanced largely by Chinese merchants who had come in contact with European efficiency and who hoped for better things from a Westernized China, fi- also to some ex- and bland conceit. nanced tent—it is Japan, the Chinese revolu- tion took place and the disap- alleged —- by Chinese pigtail peared forever. It is one thing to sum- mon spirits from the vasty deep; itis another tomake them obedient when they come. Conspicuously un- able to control the forces he had released, Dr. Sun Yat-Sen more or less gra- ciously made way for President Yuan Shi-Kai, a strong man who proved most disappointingly anti- pathetic to ardent revolu- tionaries. China practi- Russia, by no means cured of their long-cherished am- bitions, looked upon at the the Great War. During the war Japan had the base of Tsing-tao, close ol German had seized the Shan-tung Pen- 1915 had presented to Peking a lit tle matter of twenty-one demands which were equiv- eliminated insula, and in alent to making China a Japanese province. In this, however, she had bitten off more than could be chewed. The European the United States were not s pied that they had to a quiesce in this powers and ») OCCU- calm annexation. Their only interest in China was the open door for trade with a population of some 400, 000,000, and in Korea and in Manchuria—where Ja- pan had already a sphere cally split then and there into its two natural and hostile divisions of North and South. Sun Yat-Sen went to Canton and established his own brand of republic there, thanks to distance and the difficulty of communications hap- at Russia, [ er out ol reas- Lancnurlria, imed possession ol Port Arthur and of much else beside it was an Immense nievement whiel invested Japan with al immense but failed to make Japan popu- con- ( found hersell, particularly with powerful Brit- sh and German bases estab- I on Chinese yet a long way om that dreamed- legemony ol the that victory nad epoch-making pily immune from the attentions of the central government. Yuan Shi-Kai went to join his ancestors, and a host of generals set up in business for themselves. Their business in most was anarchy and loot, and they prose- cuted it with energy and profit. China lapsed into a chaos from which only the treaty ports and international settlements and con- cessions were exempt; rents therein instances rose amazingly as Chinese mer- chants flocked thither for safety Such was the ironically named Celestial Land which Japan and Looking Into Shappat:po Street, Canton, From One of the Night:Watch Bridges of influence—the was conspicuously open door absent demands They said a few words, and the twenty-one were discreetly dropped, more especially perhaps because those demand had provoked a furious anti-Japanese storm in China. Russia Enters the Picture HE war terminated, and the great powers chiefly in- terested had a little more leisure to look into affairs in the Western Pacific. Most politely, the Washingtor Conference was convened, the Anglo-Japanese Alliance was canceled, and with all the courtesies of correct d plomacy Japan found herself invited to sit back and b good. Russia, in the meantime, was looking at China from another angle. The immediate result of the Bolshevik coup was the dissolution of the old Czarist empire; in 191% Russia had shrunk into approximately the limits left by Peter the Great. According to the strict tenets of the Continued on Page 189 effects none the less. tly provoked he abortive Russian revolution of 1905, rehearsal for the of 1917. It inspired and particularly in the which was the dress Hoisnevik revolution novel se es nse of potential mil- equality v ith the Westerner, which, thie e of the Japanese, has increased t amounts toa conviction. It paved way for the Chinese revolution of 1911, which hurled the Manchu dynasty from he Peacock Throne and made China a UDI iit & lacrime, The Start of Chinese Revolts ME prime mover in the revolution of 4 1911 was Dr. Sun Yat-Sen. West- ern educated, by profession a revolution- e was one of that type of eloquent iealists— personified by Lafayette and | Mirabeau in France, by Kerensky in Rus- a, by Karolyi in Hungary —who prepare the way for the men of action and of loot. He had a little more to him than these, rhaps; he had a genius for conspiracy. | lhe Manchu dynasty, badly shaken sixty | years before by the Tai-ping Rebellion ‘antonese, and curiously like the and by the iade by 4 Cantonese eruption of today »f 1900, was a disintegrat- oxer Rebellion « ruption, ineptitude lee ot Festus A View of Hankow, Showing the Curious Little Hovels, Dwelling Places of the Chinese Working Classes. Above —Canton, From the Pagoda on the Northern Wall

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PSYCHOLOGY STUFF HE MeQuibigaskie, so runs a well-worn tale,dwelt somewhere in the Hieland fastnesses y Albert Payson Terhune 7 above Moray Firth. The pride of his heart was his magnificent collie, Chiel o’ Lomond. A Yankee mil- lionaire offered him $5000 for the dog, to take home to his New York kennels. In- dignantly the McQuibigas- kie refused to part with his loved canine chum. Soon thereafter the Yan- learned that Chiel o’ Lomond had just been sold to a rich Scot living on the opposite side of the firth. Moreover, he had been sold for a paltry half of the sum offered by the American. Indignantly he sought out the McQuibigaskie in his home, there to demand why discrimination had been shown. He found the Hielander sitting on his front steps. At the laird’s feet lay the grand collie, Chiel o’ mond, his heavy coat soak- ing wet. “*Why did I sell him across the firth when I wouldna ’ sell him across the ocean?’ 5 kee such Lo- Wolf Fights the McQuibigaskie re- cory peated with his best export- quality heather-blossom dialect, in answer to the guest’s explosive question. ‘“*'T was because I kenned fu’ weel the puir tike couldna hope to swim a’ the way back to me across the Being a Hielandman, and therefore wise in the McQuibigaskie had known that a few-mile water ob- stacle like Moray Firth could not block his tr homing instinct dogs of all breeds as in the carrier pigeon. And this queer homing instinct is one of the hundred normally racial things about dogs any way—that neither I nor anyone else can plain by the square and angle of mere human logic. I have traced and verified more than forty instances of it. Here is the most interesting of the lot. Some Out on Their are Several Inches tlantic.” dog traits, ned collie’s an instinct as strong and as sure in some not supernatural in hope to ex- Through Unknown Country MAN was leaving his old home to take up his abode in a city nearly a thousand miles away. He and his sister-in-law owned a collie together. The man decided to take the dog along with him to his new home, although it was devoted to the lady and not to him. of the Sunnybank Collies Starting Morning Run With Master. In OQval—A Photograph of Sun: nybank Coltness Chaeroplane Snapped as He Was Romping. Off the Both Hind Feet the Ground vir er: . ney in acré Continued on a closed Dag- t ah § gage car. Thus e ——— . & he saw nothing : a f +} neeininiwes “. oi the country through which ig the train passed SS 3 — | Arrived at his des tination he ~* moped * around for a week or two. Then he disap- peared. Thi November. One July day eight months later his former it Was in mistress was sitting in her office in the city where the dog had previously lived. The office was on the ground floor and its door stood wide open. In across the threshold stumbled the collie. He was bone-thin. His bur-matted muddy coat was scored in a dozen places by gash | and sear. His feet were in hideous condi- | tion. He was so weak with latigue and hunger that he was barely able to stand The luckless collie had traversed nearly a thousand miles of foreign territory, hur | dreds of its miles composed of trackles desert. He had swum wide rivers and he | had climbed high mountains. He had had no way—known to hur f guiding his | unfamiliar to 1ans 8) tired steps, for the land was him, and his acute sense of smell could not But he have helped him at that distance had kept on; and he did n he reached the home he loved t cOllapse ur and the womar! who was his deity. Pre FROM OREW-BYNUM-PETERS Sunnybank Sigurdson and Sunnybank Explorer NEW JERSEY NEWS SER How did he do it? Naturally he could have covered the nine hundred-odd miles in much less than eight months, if he had L been allowed to go } Ss own galt he dela Gray Dawnin Mid:Air, and Treve Gatloping Around must have meant that at « or more laces at About 30 Miles an Hour. Dawn is Jumping for where he sought food he had beer ight a Toy Heid Out of His Reach

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST fl GENT ILIEMEAIN OlF IBILAIDIE June 11,1927 “We've zone since midnight larst night, but ’tain’t nothink to git I knows ‘ow you feels ESSIR,” said the barber. been in the fidgety abaht, sir but ‘t won't do you no good to worry abaht 1one. If we gits it we gits it. If we doesn’t, we doesn’t an’ the Old Man's the best the line’s got fer gittin’ a ship chair turned and looked at the barber. The man in the ‘I suppose you've been torpedoed before?’ he said. Mi [he barber paused in his stropping and raised his head sharply as if someone had accused him of theft. Not arf!’ he snorted. ‘‘Hi was hon the Punic when she was blowed in arf, sir. Blowed in arf, mind you—not fifty omin’ feet abaft the barber shop!’’ He resumed his ping slowly and thoughtfully. ‘‘An’ then agyne I W board the Sonia—but that weren’t much of a show, as you might sye. She floated an hour an’ a arf, she did. { j. G. Gannon were in the chair. He were a proper old We run out into the passage t’gether an’ up on with lather on his fyce an’ the towel still abaht \n’ when we see ‘em milling abaht the boats an’ , old J. G.’e says, ‘Barber, This hooker'll says to me, ‘e hain't ed the left side of m’ chin. it a bit yet An ; him like we was in his suit at the Ritz- a man wot knew his he plops hisself into a deck chair and Carleyton. Old J. G. were proper, an’ The barber sighed. ‘‘The line ain't been nee J. G. retired.” He squinted at the edge Now then, sir.” chair relaxed. His hands trembled iir arms to the vibration of the throbbing yes moved as the woodwork squeaked and id. He wondered how the barber shop ine man nm the whispered overhe; r water, with seaweed clinging to the chair mming beside the mirror. ‘*T ain't everything packed and ready like, an’ if Git your mind fixed on the things you want to tyke an’ don't I mind Carmen know wot Nossir, aid the barber. a bit o’ use to wyste no time orelli on the old Mersey She didn’t she wanted. So she ups and tykes four coat ‘angers an’ a vaikin’ stick an’ leaves her wiolin behind, 'cause she hadn't ted on the wiolin before it "appened. It were a raddievarious too ILLUSTRATED BF By James Warner Bellalh ANTON OTTO The razor sighed softly down the man’s lathered cheek A wisp of wind-whipped spray lashed across the dead- light. The barber flicked the razor at the basin, wiped it and turned again to the chair. The man opened his eyes. “I suppose if it came while you were shaving me, I'd have my throat cut?” The barber stared at him coldly and straightened his shoulders. “Tf you please, sir. I hain't An’ me a blue-water barber fer thirty-one there were a man never so much as nicked anyone yet. years. I mind on the Spittlegate Castle in the chair, and the torpedo blew the side right out of me shop. Afterwards when we was all haboard of the Amelia H. Swenson ‘e comes to me an’ shows me a cut on his fyce an’ says ‘e's glad it’s no worse. I looks at it an’ so help me, it's a splinter as done it! You can always tell a ryzor cut, "cause the edges is stryght, but this un—the splinter were still in it!" “im,” “Yessir moment said the man in the chair. Besides, you most always gits a sort 0’ feelin’ You sort o’ It's a hinstinct like.” just a or so before brace yourself when you feels hit coming. “¥en,” ‘I've had it for three days now.” The barber looked frightened. sir. You mustn't say that. It’s wery bad luck come if you talks that way.’’ He walked over to the spray- washed deadlight and squinted out at the gray heave of sea and sky. The tumbled horizon wove upward and down- ward as he stared at it. He shrugged his shoulders. “"’Twas a day like this they got the Cape o’ Birkencliff. Me an’ the third orficer an’ the pantryman was all that got clear o’ her.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘’T were a bad un, the Cape. Ripped open endways, she did, like a cracked nut—s’ help me—an’ s’ help me agyne, if we didn’t git it agyne three days later on the Joseph Gleason after they picked us up. But the Gleason floated a bit so’s we could clear awye the stabbord boats. Well, wouldn't worry none. Just concentrate on wot yer want to said the man. ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, It’s sure to Fuse caps she ‘ad. sir, I tyke along an’ eat yer meals regular like, cause you never knows when you'll ‘ave to miss a few. An’ don’t get into no fights abaht the boats an’ shove off in a hurry an’ on no life belt. Only thing I ever seed FISCHER floatin’ in life belts is corpses and they floats anyways. This is a wery special ton sir. The Juke o’ Bordane uses it exclusive. Used to ‘ave it myde special in Paris for hisself, ‘e did. An’ me usin’ it for nigh twenty years mesself.’”” The barber | fidentially. The man got up and reached for his collar and tie “Well,” thing a fellow can do is to stay home he said, “thanks a lot. I suppose the be “‘Nossir. Hi don’t believe in hit, sir. I believes showin’ hopposition an’ keepin’ up business as usual not mindin’ it a bit, sir."”. He rubbed his hand gent across his slicked curl in front and passed it down the “Yessir. When then you carnt someone But thinning gray hair at the back says you carn’t and you don't when someone says you carn’t and you goes then you can! That's m’ belief, sir. An’ L ain't agoin’ to g back on it at my ayge “I mind once they had some marble a whole heap in a shop winder in Seattle, and m’ myte ‘e says to me ‘I'll bet you arf a guinea you carn’t guess ‘ow many they could. I ups guesses and writes m’ nyme on the pyper in the shop and *tain't till a year lyter when I'm in the Platte that I get is.” They was offering a prize if you the bowler ‘at.”’ “The bowler hat?” “Yessir, the bowler ‘at! And it months to collect the arf guinea, but I done hit, sir, or right. O’ course the ‘at didn't fit well, as you might but wiv a bit o’ pyper in it, I done wiv it for six years Hit’s the principle o’ the thing, I says.” “Why a bowler hat, though?” “It were the prize, sir!”’ “a,” “Yessir,” the barber sighed. ‘‘ Well, wot it used to be in the early months, wot wiv gt them nyvy orficers ashoutin’ and pynting the whol t S took another twel torpedoin’ ain't ins al le st 1} up like a cryzy quilt. Thankee, sir. That’s right royal of you, sir.”’ on wot you want to tyke most, an’ if nothink ‘apper I'll ’old the chair for you at ten agyne day, sir. He pocketed the coin. ‘Jest kee p concentrated tomorrow. Go

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MacGlennon leaned heavily against the bridge rail and grease and dirt to the grating squinted through the murky darkness at the dim bulk of again and picked up the last bit of a ver ile sandy r ! ' the foc’sle head and beyond. There was a faint, continued It was half in and half out of |} mout A, t , n j s t rt gh in the air about him. It rippled along the weather to look upward to see if the vent ‘ t t A t ‘ curtains and clung to the signal halyards at the mastheads grating pen to the t It danced in the low-whipped smoke that smudged from Frantically a bell crash the whining funnels and lay flat upon the black sea behind. screamed at his elbow I It buzzed in his ears and whispered in the wet folds of his The ship leaped to starboard, reeling mad he oilskins. Light—shortly now. He was cold and hungry. an infernal collapse of everything and a blasting r Twenty feet from him another figure loomed in the dark- streaked with red light. Below Jordar ngingtothevent g u ng ness. The gunnery officer who always shaved before going shaft ladder, a piston bent like a ha eared throug on watch Royal Navy to the core, wit the stamp ol the its cylinder as a Cal! pener rips t ig i tin, tore Wu ! ‘ . service all over him. MacGlennon grunted free, and ground hisdesk into powder. Men rushed throug ga ‘ He could see the foc’sle head presently and the back of the biting steam, black sooty mer heavy | i ] r it ; the lookout standing with his legs braced and his hands from nowhere and swarmed up t in his slicker pockets. He could see the wireless antenna The man who had been shaved that n ning rar { overhead, etched against the graying sky, swaying with the up from the floor of his cabin spitting | 1 and teeth fror ends ‘ 3 knee He r masts in a slow, narrow ellipse. There was a man standing his mouth. He looked around wildly, grabbed a coat and a rugged the t. Itd ! t He n the gl iole passage—a man in an undershirt and pair of trousers and barged out into the careening passag t { wrinkle He came out on the well deck and sloshed way into the arms of a very stout lady who held a toot ta tt 7 ur lag his face and hands in a bucket. He stood for a moment brush before her and stared at it wild-eyed. The man wa notting a line t ift e ¢ ng stru staring stupidly across the rail at the soapy scud of the sea. not sure what a grating was, but it was the only thing ir water with a lou it and slit ed away n MacGlennon swept the widening horizon with his glasses mind at the moment. He gave the stout lady a v 1 verhang N t nervous now with the dawn. prod and chased her along the passage before him id on wyting. Wher goes they ¢ ! Many decks below him, Jordan, the first assistant, lit denly he roared with laughter. ‘She's got a toothbru the heel of shag in his ancient brier and stood up. His he screamed Che m i wn the rope irning his hands fie fed against the oily grating underfoot. Stewards were routing them above de now, lashing y and rememberi! lay long ago wh« eha mbe carpet slippers shu He leaned over the nickeled rail and stared into the maze and slapping at them, shoving them up companionwa a rope to the rafter t gyn im at t of pulsating, flashing steel below him. Thum-thump- __likeschoolboys encouraging a team. They burst forth upor nto the cobwebby that ha arried th ew kerthum—plump. Thum-thump-kerthum—plump. the sloping promenad engths ahead of the Navy in '97 or '98. The w Jordan nodded to himself in approval and went over to “Now then—not you!"’ someone bellowed in his ea land oily. He mped it msily. It stung the board to read the formal, mathematical story of his He was hurled headlong into the scuppers. ‘‘ Women first eyes and ed | ised mouth. | } ead urbines—a story hardly necessary as long as his ear ap- He scrambled up and raced aft to the crowd of me t truck out r the grating. The ru i a huge proved of them. He rubbed his hands together andranthe clutching his coat and trousers. Over the rail he saw t [ ide were quite to hir i pped the w nail of his little finger under the nail of the index finger of choked boats going slowly down to the wate Int get aw H t t ig his left hand. With his thumb he snapped the pellet of est one was the fat dowager screaming in paced period grating Continued on Page 121 The Liner Rolled Slowly, Lazily as a Man Turns Quer in Bed on a Warmish Spring Morning. The Dead Funnels Swept Around to Starboara

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THE SATURDAY Vide TEXAS TWINS THE Box Elder stage statior the big event of tne day was over Ar hour before, Red I mona ad expert popped his eaching whiplash over the backs ‘ ; eager relay and made the coach hard to overtake on its way north- i. The stocktender, having con- entiously finished his rubbing down had been driven in ind otherwise provided for their im- ate needs, now felt himself enti- itoa little rest and relaxation, and ngly joined the group seated eath thespread cottonwood. Here e dexterously overturned the d cot upon which Guy Z-Bell was reclining, ¢ } | readjusted and took the ‘Don't let me interrupt you, Tip,” he said courteously to the red-bearded person who had been speaking. “Go ght on with what you was a-saying. No, wait until | massacre “4 [here was a scuffling diversion that ied in an unequal division of the i the cot. “‘ Now about this,”’ *“Who was alking about?”’ indyk,”’ Tip Yoa- the stocktender resumed. ou Was t Old Man Som: um informed him, “‘and he a-talking Morton. ‘Abe’sa friend of the old man, ‘and there ain’t nobody that’s *far’s I know. He ain’t a liar and he ain't a thief; the trouble with Abe’s that his mem’ry is onrelia- le. He gets things sort of tangled up when he tells ’em, ibout Abe no, sir ount of forgetting how they happened or didn’t happen; nd same way about promising to do this or that—promis- g solemn and faithful—-and then not doing ’em. Just forge and that short mem'ry of his is what made him uti y hog of Batley’s and salt it down. He ob’ly thought the hog belonged to him, forgetting that Abe’s a friend of mine, and I stand time. It may be that he’s pretty espects, and I don’t hold with his ng habits, nor yet with him beating up his woman the 5 dn’t own no hog by my friends every issed mean in some r very time he gets drunk; but then we've all poor way ne does ¢ ot our faults, and he sure ain’t to blame for his mem'ry. Che Z-Bell boy offered to bet that Abe would remember life the licking that Batley gave him the last aay of hi before causing his arrest. ‘But it’s sure mighty nice to rend to tand by you,” said Guy. There ain’t nothing in the world like a good friend,” Yoakum agreed. “I know, because | got more of "em than ypular Qua You take a real friend and he won't oft-soa laver you none; but he'll tell you what there wrong with you, honest and straightforward, and keep swelled up with pride and self-respect, like Old rom getting all good. And he'll stand up for you or your owr lan Somarindyk done for Abe, Ain't that right, Sam Samue tegg, the ancient bullwhacker from up creek, ow retire v leaning against the trunk of the cotton- wood, his chair tilted and the edge of his hat brim resting t end of | He answered with a grunt; and then, sl} sition to strike a match on his trousers, d more ex! tly, ‘* Well-l-l, y ‘s, and no. ‘There's friend he continued, after a few tentative it his corncob, ‘“‘and then again there’s friends. There's friend need that the more they need the friend- er they are e's friends that you're in the hands of friends that'll up for you and put up with you; when you a t ire about the nomination; 1 up tor you and ul willing to be good friends but not noth- é y ‘ g more ere riends that you set up with and ends that you set in with—all kinds. Ever I tell you yu e Sir n and Tony Beck?” ere was a general chorus of assent, but the old bull- I F ‘ ew bette There was two friends—he said f e-enough friends. Anywhere you seen Tony ou'd know that Joe wasn't far off and wouldn't be and similar the other way about. If you wanted ou had to do was pick on Tony; and an Wishiul aving iony climb your frame, you could make your wish come true the easiest kind by mak- ing slighting remarks about Joe. They worked together and they played together, and the only thing they didn't agree on was which of 'em was to get the best end of any thing that was going. Tony wanted Joe to have it and Joe was set it should go to Tony—every time. beautiful to watch ‘em. They was both punchers, and good ones. They come up from Texas together with horses for Milligan & Traut. Andy Traut hired ’em, promising ’em a season’s job when sort It was sure they got up here; but Andy's mem'ry was like Abe's of onreliable-—and when he got them cayuses on the range he forgot and gave the boys their time. There was some trouble about it. Tony told him he didn’t care so much about himself, but he hated to see any lying, white-livered, mangy coyote try to do Joe dirt, and he was a-going to try to discourage sech doings in the painfulest way possible. He started to shed his coat, but Joe edged him off, being quicker in his motions, and without more’n a few words he landed his right fist in Andy’s left eye. There was two of Andy’s outfit present and they was foolish enough to try to prevent Tony from claiming his right to finish what he'd started. It was foolish, because all it done was irritate him and they had themselves to blame for what happened to ’em in the mélée. Maybe if Joe and Tony had stayed they mighi have got a chance to until Andy and his henciimen got recuper- but they didn’t. They left them three wrecks of what was once strong and able- bodied the W G, where I a-working at the time, and offered their services to Rod work after all ated and convalesced, anyway; men and come on to was Harper, who was running the outfit then. EVENING POST Her Black Eyes Was Just a:Snapping, and if Joe and Tony Didn’t Crawi Un: der the Table it Was Prob’ bly Because They Was Paralyzed June 11,1927 By Kennett Harris BY GRATTAWN CONDON ILLUSTRATED Rod’s office to They gether; Tony, a big husky, red-faced come into light-complected somebody, kind of slow-spoken, and Joe, gabby and black-eyed, with black, curly hair and coming up to Tony’s shoulder almost but not quite. They was a team, all right, but they sure didn’t look to be matched. You couldn't couple of men tha nave picked a t looked less alike Rod looked ’em over kind of care ful. ‘The long and the short of it, he says “Huh? the desk and frowning “The long and the short of it that I’ve got all the men I need says Rod ss it was an extr good, all-around, topnotch, gilt-edge, well-conducted, moder: man that naturally I ‘There he stands,” says Vaving his har toward Joe \ but the moderate price that mear ything.less’n the best punche wages in this sectior ] there's ar tning about a cow cr he dor now, I don't now nor you don't nor nobody else. And me, I'm tol’ avie good mysell *Tol’able ays Joe wit! good! big laugh. ‘* Well Yes, I re¢ well with the common I should snicker kon you'd stack up tol’ab] run ol waddike C¢ nsiderir g everything Mister, you hear this fellow talk, don’t you? We listen, you get you a fine-t and oth com over the Panhandle and New Mexico and Arizona up to Ne braska and Wyoming real taking your time to be thorough, and if you hand 1at’s more’n half as good as Tor rake careiu can scratch up a cow tr Beck, you can have my horse an saddle and bridle and my spurs and gun and my shirt to say.” That's all I got ‘You certainly give each other a tol’able good recommend,” says Rod “I don’t skassly know which one of you I ought to take.” “You'll eit her,”’ take the both of us, says Ton) dishes if ness’ry.”’ You can but you aint ‘You can,” “Sure! want to turn your hand to; that. If one of the one to do it, and I won't take no silk says Joe do anything you a-going to do the jobs is pot wrastling, I’m going to b handkerchief to t tou you scour the kettles, which is what it would amoun was used for kitchen purposes. Talk ; “Quit your fussing,’ says Harper. ‘‘] Here's what I’ sense don't want You me a week if you want, the both of you, and by disturbance in here ll do Can Work ior that time | can tell whether you’re much worse than the bungling, boneheaded, bedridden farm hands I've already got. If you are, I'll pay you for your time and let you go; and if you ain’t, I'll maybe keep you on for a while longer. Forty month. How about it? ‘“*Seems fair,"’ says Tony. “He’s getting you too cheap,” says Joe, “‘but I reckor we might take him up on it.” So they went to work for the W G, and if tl land, Of course, ey wasn’t the in the their jobs best was a-plenty good enough to hol flocked together all the time they tney but they wasn't no ways unsociable with the rest of t outfit, and Joe took quite a shine to m It was him me how come they got to be so thick. He'd been workir New Mexico, ar when he got paid off, him and some more of the boys went for some outfit in Dona Ana, down ir to El Paso to get a touch of high life and see the sights and find out what there and such. Maybe it was the gas lamps or the racket on t! was to all this talk about fancy drink streets or the dude way all the folks dressed that got hin discontented; but anyway, one of the boys aliowed tl there wasn’t nothing like foreign travel to broaden ar expand the mind, so why not cross the rolling Rio Grands

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that sounded reasonable, so the imped a horse ( and went over the bridge to Juarez and went to study gt 1. Int irse of the evening most of the boys got mislaid one ] e or another, ar ’ ‘ anothe low found themselves t of a dance } the was grabbed | i couple of ft-eyed sefioritas and ndly welcomed. Joe sa tw y sn n there that ‘ ouldn’t see not! gy, and the guitars and tne nve ! nd the shuffling and stamping wa ich that he ildn’t hear nothing, so he ildn’t give no exact int how what happened. He might have had one or two 1 he mignt not but ar Vay t asnt t t, be ¢ enever he had one or two it made hin e nis ie Ww man and want to be kind and bens il to him, regard- less of race, « or whethe e wore his pan plit from the | aowr wit! | bputtor aiong the eages plain straight pants. Joe was used to grt too. The; his ( spoke the ngo right we ( } and eno nad pronio ind d T ana ¢ € é ( Y he didn’t understand it as fluent as some I } bre got t up | nose about mething, seemed f anyway, t first thing Joe knew he was a-fighting, not only this t ilar ¢ ero but all the other « ‘ that could get clo enough to him, and he caught a gimy} of his ‘ for the door--and his gun at the ' ) ol a cnalr, Joe t me and Ww: it: but I’d got one or two cuts that was a-bleeding free, and it didn’t seem reasonable to pose that my best would have been good enough, with ll that crowd a-thirsting for my gore. I don’t reckon I lasted more’n a few minute longer, when here Beck, a perfect stranger to me, a Ke an answer to prayer, oO! that topray. Well, Tony was a-whooping like a calliope and a-mowing a th a ber A chair was too two- and im You Could Have Seen Him “I Wish THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “ain t a8 ea a yy wher or r might t ndIw we § | “We ru Ye } mitt running. We ‘ the , ' sixt mile t t we e Ar Ther , ; - ra : . ment : nN ‘ ] ] t ! ] t Tor D t know 1 Adam’s « . ' I Wa ( git t t t ne nest re t the chance gn yut 5 een hin “ xz We I t t + ago, and mandt e Dee! ne ever since “IT don’t blame y ‘It’s these here litt I tentl thatn e you e amar But what I’m wond t t ing about what é n you. Ir n } } ; Seca caused Henk edt \\ e that’s it Joe Not t t others around here, a not a hund mile wa W ‘ ‘ the sound of my voice, t he might fe r it Some time after that T im t nd I Wi t mentioned that little! it J ‘ if \ ithat w . t let Joe had told me a plumb ex erat ke the part he too Id i t p All there w: t ‘ é it } 1 , ; ; . p this joint and he ‘ I I ng a t of t " and needing exercise anyw , he 1 th et it t inside, the senorit } iwnen he | ‘ \\ ‘ Y in it seemed like a godsend. Bu é t rea “ help t ent oO “‘Shucks, that litt ter had t wd ed ev time when J then!” sa lony iH workir a é we | Continued on Page Ail Way They Went Down Every Swing and the

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] is to think of Pamela walking up Fifth Avenue that radi- June day as straight from the ypointment to ‘ifty-fifth Street and there fall A Y She was quite unaware of what ent to meet, ni come out for no better yn t that the sparkling sunshine had got I here be never so many banks where thyme { oxlips and all the catalogued favorites may »w, there is something about spring in the ty that has a pungency of exhilaration be- nd ist blitheness, when the very t. Gold-flecked warmth eddied é yon, mysteriously exciting; the ste of the passe by sounded quick and and so lar as one could hear ere Wa augnter riding tne Cur- the air like spindrift Pamela Ww ery wort! ily abroad, on a day e tni There was no n the cloudless azure bluer her I n eyes Her lovely solt blew about in tendrils, as n fitting medium to make ine breeze \ sible Her cheeks wed, up to the smudge of that eerie larkness where her black lashes nd her red lips looked ready or In her trig plain frock, her gure showed girl in her é And so ne ncing were é eet that f her almost t J Ogden before she saw him there, hat in hand, smiling. She me to an almost breathless halt | was just iving a most amus onversation with John Ogden,” was his greeting. ‘‘*‘Look at this!’ iid he to me as you hove in sight. And said I, ‘She is a widow, the stepmother of nineteen, she a girl "a liar!’ thirty-two rou are a said he. Give you my word.” Pamela “You houldn’t have told him I was thirty Shere gasped. ‘It doesn't in th matter » least rie doesn t believe tt : looked at him for that in- tant of miraculous length and breadth with a feeling of blindness, it was because revelation had swept her that tling moment something that Pamela udden void. In sta! had thought was spring had become juite simply John. Her lovely color ghtened, and a delicious sense of heart lignt deepened in her ‘IT suppose,” she heard him saying, ‘they wouldn't let us have a picnic tea here on the church steps? It seems quite abandoned to go indoors a day like this. But I'd like to yrate the luck of meeting you.”’ Pamela would have gone with him to Siberia if he had iggested it They crossed the Avenue. The palm-set m of the hotel was happily almost empty. She followed tl ad waiter to a little table by an open window, feel- ng like a little girl at her first party. Her gloves pulled e put her hands beneath her chin and loved him cre tne table [s that your new spring hat asked Ogden, with an f interest ‘Naturally,’ said she. It wasn’t. Jocelyn was wearing W t somewhe What on earth did it matter? Wt { anything matter? She felt that she would like John she had just fallen in love with him, but her I id closed warmly about it as a secret Joy. She won- red why t had not happened long ago. For how many ye ad she known John? Why, she had inherited his er and mother, among all that quaintly ill-assorted ess of her father’s friends writers, actors, painters, nd w € » Fice and poor. st what was it you used to do that kept you so much from home?” she asked with sudden irrelevance I | } r’s dirty work, you know. Oil, con- 4 lleting trouble at the depots. Why?” FLECVCETR SA FT ED Br GE THE SATURDAY EVENING POST AULIIMUENTATIOIN'S ARIE WIL LD By Beatrix Demarest Lloyd +x... . ORGE Ez. “Is That Your New Spring Hat?"’ Asked Ogden, With an Air of Interest ‘I just wondered—-I’d forgotten,’ she murmured ab- sently. He smiled at her through the smoke of his cigarette. It was just like Pamela to have forgotten that the elder Og- den purveyed to the habitable globe most of its petrolic supplies. There was always a ready twitch in his lips, a gleam of waiting amusement in his long gray eyes; but as he took in her quite honest lapse of recollection of his father’s incredible wealth, he almost laughed aloud. ‘It’s been interesting,’ he said in dismissal. ‘‘ Though it has, as you say, kept me away from home a great deal. Every time I come back I find changes in everything but up, hasn’t she? I see her like her father in some How Jocelyn has grown you. b he’s very about a lot, at ways.” “Yes, isn’t she?”’ picture he evoked of the two faces But, of course, Anthony was quite gray when I married him.” ““You don’t seem to get about much with her set.” places —she’ Pamela seemed to be looking at the “The same coloring. “Well, John, you know how it is,’’ she answered. “For goodness’ sake, don't give me any of those inséne mint leaves in my tea. When I want catnip I'll take it wot. June 11,1927 I’ve my own collection to the circus dad left We when the spirit moves, and if the dropped-on is busy, one one rackstraw for sassie ty added FE me. just drop in on one another genial ‘Get out, idiot, I’m working’ ends that little bit. I couldn’t stand that feeling of social life as an obligation And I couldn't, for instance, play bridge bef It’s my belief they th ore luncheon ink the weeks of the year were tle ked F + off to agree with the number of cards in a dec} **How’s the work going?’ Pamela made a face slowly. ‘‘It’s gone, vanished, off on a spree,’’ she sald **T haven't written a Awful, isn’t it? Not an idea in my head for months.” “We ll, lots of writing on that account,’ ine uthors don't stop "said Ogden cheerf ‘Of course I love to hear you sa‘ 1 en nless I have a copper-bottomed ». Asa matter of fact, y ‘em 1 plot I am speechless. I really must look inside this sandwich —what'’s it made of? Cresson and paté and some dark secret Oh, John, whata lovely tea I am having.” ‘You make it so,”’ said Ogden ‘““But tea is such an ephemeral was sal If you are at a loose end to night, 1 think it would be awfully decent of you to let me take you to dinner somewhere Pamela shook her head. *‘ No car do it tonight. My ends are tied in a knot. Jocelyn IS Ziving a Little dinner to Judith Marriot-Smith.’ “Well, but!’’ demurred Ogden or a note of protest. ‘*‘ You don’t mear to tell me there’ chaperoning S any done these days?”’ She There Irish 3less you, no lilting laug! like Pamela’ laug! lam only the cook gave a was no merry musi voice on a chiming His eyes took this in with a vague + a you t tell me a shadowing. ‘‘Cou little more about after an exceedingly dry little pause that?’ he asked, ‘I can tell you all about it, m) dear lad. You must know that Joce lyn and I could never live the way we do—the bit of an income.” moment to smile at long story, but you asked for it which is way we like to-——on my one stopped a “It isa him There is our apartment truly noble, you know— and two ex pensive females to live in it Luckily, every once in so often, a bolt strikes from the blue; I get an funny story, and a nice fat check plops into the bank. I idea for a could wish it happened oftener, but | am too grateful for even an occasional plot to complain. We get along beau tifully with one maid, but when Jocelyn entertains her school friends -pullet luncheons or mixed dinners— there must be a cordon bleu in the kitchen. Why not? I enjoy it. When I entertain there are about six caterers—we all cook and waiter and scullionate. To tell you the truth, I think we have the jollier parties, but we are so mucl younger than our children.” He pushed aside his plate with a touch of considering impatience and leaned toward her with his arms on the table ‘You are not spoiling Jocelyn, are you? ‘Nothing could spoil her,” ‘There Why shouldn't she give din- a Goodness is aware, she accepts hundreds of ’em from ; said she never Was a dearer girl in the world ners? the others. girl friends at that ly quar tered in those fifty-thousand-a-year slums on Park Avenue Joce lyn is very popular, you know, and her } fashionable school are most I should be perfectly miserable if she couldn’t keep up her end. It is not snobbish pretense, John. I don’t care who knows I cook her parties her pals better than their own French chefs.”’ A vision of John’s owr: millions gave him a mortal If only ffe it tickles me to be able to feed twinge. Pamela were not so self-sufficient! He absently offered her a cigarette, and sat turning his case

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around betwee! wholly undeserved attentior Pamela and her stepdaughter Pame i Pamela rooted in her well-loved life at home A ild he think to make her happy, rending her fron dragging her around the world with a1 John Ogder r company much of the time lhe last thing ‘ was that she could care two straws for a mar e hin He ond husband-—it wasn’t sane to think of hin t but inevitable would be like he t: Some |} nt e devil seize him, a writer of crisp comedies, perhaps, wit t nights and g imphs to t her feet. There w nothing he could offer her except his heart at mone nd Pamela, if she cared little to have m might ‘ ss for his love, which was only three parts wanting her mself, after all! Many a man must kr t natura craving who could offer to raise her present ne r the life she knew and loved He was perfe ware that one day he would have to tell her his sto t e had no hope it would do more than distress he We th Va ng too long silent for a host He glance ] t nd forced a smile lhe look of him brought an ache of tenderne nto he throat. She had no idea that he was thinki: ibout he but there was a wistfulness in his eyes that e fe wou n another moment, lead her into the tempt n of te y him how dear he was. She pushed bac ‘ hair at caught up her gloves ‘Must go,”’ she said, smiling Che ve next bridge that Joce n gives shall be graced wit pPiagia eq sand wiches, and I shall think of you while I make them ‘Well, that’s something,” said Ogden with a The vehicle that bore her home, when she ha shaken him off, was presumably a homely bu Shere felt as have Cinderella in her g must She had several wasted years to make up have known that John Ogden, for all he might t the Pacific Ocean somewhere, was what made t round; but she was rapidly balancing the budg now to doubile-quick time She bought nt ) It w yreat ¢ Wal ‘ tire Te t ; ‘ ( minat Wwindov ry ahi | en er ex T 1 nad} 4 4 t Ssqua brown } ud ed l i wit iri} , } } ob, y yt t ¥ 1 below, W than one ( 1 wr ol grat " = ine g answe i eT rans (‘ae y me r re ew wt l ‘ tne ed wit! were yu ( . ¢ é melt i em i Sstulle id Ste¢ n toast imbe | é ttuce ke ts elect »> He se iI é er yast-master meitea 1 inexpe ‘ Voce id Pame THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued on Page ! Ogden Hesitated. ‘Pamela, You are Not Going be Stuffy Parent,

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

June 11,1927

idl MAN MiRRIWZLIL imbered a man. ight in Behind on a winter n runr r her, ng madly

ouyg ease tne pace. here’s no hu he kept repe r, and in between t ne tried to reason wit! hor 0) oO é imitted, he A gia W e had come home Any man would be glad ~ \ had run away and then come back again. B icks, if the boy had é D¢ ind soul togethe r yr 3ix months, all on his own, t stood to reason he wouldn’t up and die in the time it would ake them to walk home. And another tl yughtto ha meeting wa r i hurt W é while. ] esson. Maybe then he would et t tnro e Tra cnips awnl happened Revelation gnt, wit art whereon would ; | ot the Apocaly] se > ‘ AT Brother Ni the Boo; man didr The Prodigal 8) v¢ otner the velation, a stay away if he paid him no heed er. Leaving him she ran on, plunging through snowdrifts and scrambling pavements. Ina few minutes was flinging open a door, racing wv i hall and bursting into a hen, there to fly into the arms of a ink youth who had been thaw- himself out by the parental stove.

in } +H the streets of a little town in the state of the early 80’s, a woman ialf-hearted As he puffed for breath he By James Mi. Caim ILLUSTRATED BY M. L. BLUMENTHAL ¥ Sd fa

“I Was Hoping He Would be a Preacher,’’ Said the Mother Sadly Not and these, he seemed to As fora His ““How’'d he get that fool ‘Seems like to me out in the world he would of Le xy was brief. For this boy of sixteen, dideas so strange that he must needs ay from a home where he had always ‘ k of the walk, had come home with tranger still. No penitent prodigal, ly to atone for his transgression by settling down into ful occupation that might present itself. leaded guilty to nothing; he had money in his i clothes on his back; oved that he had not wasted his time. cupation—poof! He had loftier aspirations. dreams, it appeared, were filled with the screech of i the snorting of buffaloes and the whooping of Cor In brief, he would an author be, and sign his ir, far into the night his father and mother talked over ‘ w that had befallen them. his head?”’ fretted the father. e spent six months some sense.’ " }

where I can get him a job at a dollar and a half a day right now, and he can make two and a half as soon as he learns the trade.”” His voice grew warm as the full enormity of the situation began to dawn on him. ‘‘ Dog-gone it!’’ he exclaimed. “I got a notion to take him over to that job tomorrow anyhow. I got a notion to put him to work and see if that don’t beat some sense in his head.’’ And as he stood six feet three, and was so huge in proportion that Abraham Lincoln had once singled him out of a crowd and challenged him to a rail-splitting contest, it seemed that he was able to make good on his notion. **No, you can’t do that,”’ said the mother quickly. ““What’s going to stop me?”’ “He might run away again.” “Yeah, he sure is bull-headed.’’ The father was silent a few minutes. ‘‘ Well,’’ he reflected after a time, ‘you got to admit he’s got the pluck.”” Dark though the future might appear, he could not resist a sneaking pride that his over to Biddeford, the mill son had gone town, and held his ire there asking help ng,” The pluck In question own without ain’t afraid of noth he mused S

The mother sighed long way from the ministry and the Book of

**Guess we better leave him alone,”’ said the

don’t know much about this writing business; it ain't But it’s a cinch he ain't like no other boy that w | my line ever seen, so maybe he knows what he’s doing “Yes, I guess we better leave him be,”’ said the mothe sadly And the decision, no doubt, was a momentous o1 for the boy who was snoring away in another part the house. For this William Gilbert Patten was pre ently to rewrite his eminent name as Burt L. St dish, and in no great length of time to give a wait Roman of t A.B., Yale. He did not, of course, ¢: noblest that Merriwell, world Frank nem all, tne

for an ax and have the prodig ious Frank cloven full-growr I ww at one fell swipe He had not, in fact, ever thought of Frank at this time other matters were more pres ng his parents were committed | For one thing, althoug! the moment to an attitude of watchful Walting, they were

practical lolk; ana if the usu fructs of literature were 1 visible pretty soon, they m deliver an ultimatum t would mean the minist the carpentry, or another trip int the cold, cold world. For ar other tl ng, there wa t affairof honorwith Mr.Goo boss of the n I ¢ ‘“‘A Bad Man”’ R. GOOCH, in firing him had not only refused give him the raise he d manded but had bidden him g get some hair on his face, else be thankful to work for ninety cents a day he was ¢ ting. And it had become } ambition first to get sé me Nair on his face, and secor make enough money t to Biddeford and snap haught fingers at Mr. Gooch an: Gooch’s $1800 a yea heigh-ho for the inkpot After three weeks, howe His first story, th Lhe ver, things loo black indeed. had hardly been dry on per he shipped it off to the Banner Wee} 7. 2 publication of the Messrs. Beadle & Adams, in New Yor and it was rejected by return mail. What was almost a distressing, it had not come back with the ne With heavy heart young Patten went to work or The Pride of Sandy Flat. To his father, wh ries a little more pointed than mere courtesy ntion the

made evasive replies, neglecting to me rejection. “Tt always takes a little whole lot of editors have got to read the stuff before t} take it.” By the time The blue indeed, and when he sent the story off he very humble letter to the editor of the Banner Weekly, M Orville J. Victor, in which he respectfully , he revealed any talent as a writer. And P. S.— where was his other story? He trembled when he opened the reply. Yes, said Victor, literary talent was plainly visible. The Pr Sandy Flat was accepted. Through some oversight Man had not been returned, but now that it had second reading it, too, was accepted. Check wa for six dollars time,”’ he explained. “A ride of Sandy Flat was done he wa asked whethe to pay for both stories He drew a long breath. Perhaps out of that moment hi f got something which enabled him to describe so feelingly in later years, how Merriwell felt when the plotte been foiled and our friends would breathe free

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘Heard from those stories today, he said nonchalantly, country wi rogucing Lhe ima tossing the check to his father as he sat down to the suppe tive lale turne ou ‘ ‘ table that night of Irving Hawtt ‘ ongte Long and hard did the elder Patten stare at it. ““‘How Whittier and Poe might be a \ long did it take you to do them stories?”’ he asked fine in a literary way, he reasoned ‘Oh, couple of days apiece, I guess they were woefu yut tou ' ‘H’m!” said the elder Patten, in the manner of aman the times. Su tulf, it seem who makes mental calculations him, gaped at the ids wh he third story, which was really a short novel, sold for elephants were 1 gt the t eT t) if t dollars The check he snowe d not miy to! S romance y! An eT a the gre at te latner but to Henry Clark, a friend And that night a boy her literature av in the West pedaled frantically up to the village store on his higl was the land that was on ever ei wheeled bicycle and burst into the room where men were tongue that was the iand that w suying cut plug, twist and loose chewing forever on the vor of Congres A ‘ ‘Willie Patten got se venty-five dollars for one of them yreat debate on whether M 1! tories he’s writing!”’ exclaimed the boy should be admitted slave or free Up spoke Hosea Rackliff, the school-teacher “Henry whether we should insist on filt Clark,” he said sternly, ‘‘you shut up with that foolis! four forty or fight; that was the ‘ nes Willie Patten ain't got sense enough to make seventy- land where supermen were I é tive dollars even if he worked for it, let alone making it by ing back a frontier on Indiar r b something he wrote.”’ and buffaloe that was the land ¥ But Henry Clark insisted that he had seen the check where the excitement was, where and later on Bill Patten came in and confirmed the great life had color, flavor id . ‘ news about his son, and excitement was intense in Corinna that was the land that people ye he that night. The fourth story, a full-length novel, sold for wanted to read about $150, and by that time Willie Patten felt himself seasoned Accordingly, as soon as he ould get for a venture he had had in mind for some time. He would affairs in order, he moved to New Y try his hand at dime novels prepared to sing its saga. His plan, first, wa publish 1 eas it Ww é A ‘ ‘ The Birth of the Dime Novel His plan, them | ent a When t rice at wi the bor vere to . Foreign influence a LAR ambition? Not at that time. It is now’ be sold, hi ip their hands and threatened to he 4 juite forgotten that the dime novel has an ancient have him pi atch. Other publishe ‘2 M*' ARSKA A nd thoroughly honorable history. In the beginning it was rumors re: 1. Itw pretty drear a t t not the biographer of detectives, horse thieves and train — said, but be done. Beadle we I i ( ‘ é el robbers at ail, but the historian of an epic achievement with his pre] ook him a yt two : i f the conquest of a continent. Its originator was Erastus F. joke books, song books and such things, to get togethe ( Beadle, a native of Otsego, New York necessary money, but presently he was ready. He would ‘‘Porfias Delt Norte Was t | In 1857, when he was in his thirties, Beadle made a trip need a printer, he realized, so he engaged Robert Adam the Greatest Villain of J from Buffalo, where he had set up shop as a printer, to who had set type for him in Butta He would nee All Literature’’ 360. he ‘le of Nebraska, where he had taken up land and ex ecitor, so he engaged a . pected to settle. For various reasons his enterpriss ung man named O ‘ ge M G An lid not turn out very well, and he was forced to Victor, the ime Victor w t Slave M Met \ t é me bach But he had seen things t t mar t é to Ww ! ! his eye He had found out first et er ( W H W hand what was happening on the raged ing I é plain he had had his own provi- ? ( nna, M ‘ } el ‘ ions stolen by Indians and had come Victorsoon made I l t Beadle into uncomfortably close contact é é calping expedition What he saw cor vinced him that there was something Cally wrong W 1 4 Continued on Page 54 E ott Bion pRead Frank Merriwell Won All the Harvard Games Single-Handed in the Last Minute of Play

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W wee vie “I’m Just THE LICK: O Blowing My Nose,’’' He Snapped. SATURDAY EVENING POST CiK, TICK-TOCIK June 11,1927 “I Suppose a Man Has the Right to Blow His Own Nose Without Being Asked to Explain His Actions"’ [! WAS shortly before five o’clock and I had ° ° He must have noticed m tartled expressior ist thrown into the wastebasket a circular By Jloratio Winslow because he pressed the ler on his stop watcl inviting me toinvest in some South American twice to nd the | i to zero ‘The wells, and was engaged in wondering what ILLUSTRATED BY R. M. BRINKERHOFF message read Jaspe Pick-tock, t t lla would say on being told of my prospective Sweetie raise and consequent effect on our joint building fund, when X. Y. or some such assumed appellation. Now, if you saw ‘“‘Betore starting, professor, | would e to ask agair Burtield opened the door and, in his customary hard- an advertisement of this sort you would wonder, Iam sure, what paper that was in.’ d manner, said, ** Ennis, | wish you would step in here just who A. B. C. was and why he sent the message in ques- “It was published in the London Time nute tion to X. Y.”’ **London, Wisconsin?” ere was something depressing about the way he made “No, professor,’’ I said, after thinking a minute, ‘I ““No, no,”’ snapped Mr. Burfield, ‘* Londo ngland remark, but having a clear conscience, I got up at once would not do any wondering like that, because it would be London, England.” with a fearless step, crossed the threshold into Mr. simply wasting valuable time.”’ “Well,” 1 explained somewhat embarrassed, ** before ( rivate office In making this reply I had thought I would be getting in) moving to this city my home was in London, Wisconsin Ent aid Mr. Burfield, looking larger and more right with Mr. Burfield, who had been nuts about not wast- and I may as well admit, Mr. Burfield, though | have sir i-boiled than usuai, ‘‘this gentleman is Professor Smith ing time ever since six months before when he had hired _ ply used initials and never mentioned the subject, my first e Imagination, Inc. Corporation of New York. Ihave the efficiency expert. name is Jasper.” { him in to find out why we are not doing bigger and To my surprise, Mr. Burfield remarked in a severe voice, ‘It would be,”’ said Mr. Burfield in what can only | er Husine ‘*Ennis, this is not the time or place for kidding. Either described as a snorting manner, while Professor Smith re ofessor Smith, who looked to be cultured, but also. you appreciate the importance of imagination in the marked, ‘‘ Mr. Ennis should write down what the message er hard-boiled, in spite of his bald head, nodded to me modern business world or you had better trade your type- suggests to his imagination without any more delay than 1 pleasant manner writer for a shovel. Kindly give the professor the proper absolutely necessary. Suppose we start agair Jaspe Ye I have been discussing things with Professor answers and refrain from making any more wise cracks.”"’ Tick-tock, tick-tock. Sweetie.’”’ th, Ent and he has shown me conclusively what we Though not aware of having made a wise crack, I saw I A minute later Mr. Burfield said in an irritated w was in wrong and that the less general conversation in- ‘‘ What is the matter, Mnni Why don’t you start?’ O was my simple comment dulged in, the better. Therefore I decided to follow direc- ‘“*] don’t know where to start nor what to start,’ was n Professor Smith, Ennis, is a psychology expert who tions as closely as possible. honest reply es In tne imagination. Without imagination there “*Now then,” said the professor, ‘here is a little personal “Write down what the ad makes you think of ion, and where there is no vision, business cannot advertisement clipped from the great London Times “It doesn’t make me think of anything,” I said after uk hest opportunities.” Take your fountain pen and this pad of paper. I will read two more minutes, and this was literally the truth aid “ O} igain, that seeming to be the most appro- the message and give you five minutes to call your imagina- The more I tried to use my imagination on this subje ite remar| tion into play and write down your conception of the per- the less it would work, and when the professor announce The professor has not only gone to the seat of the son who inserted the message, the person for whom it was that the five minutes were up, the only writing on the pad ible but he eady to show us how to remedy it. That intended, and what you think the message really said.”’ was the string of o's by which I had tried out the fountair why rst of he will give you a little test to see ““And remember, Ennis,”’ Mr. Burfield interrupted, pen. ther not you have need of his expert advice “this test involves no sentimental slop, so don’t let your The professor interrupted Mr. Burfield, who ha As proressor opened his leather bag I could not help imagination work in that direction. Look at the ad as_ started to say something in a disgusted tone of voice hing back my chair, because I was afraid he might pull though you were a detective. Who sent the message? Who ‘Imagination, Mr. Burfield, is a psychological gift prese ome surg instruments and try to operate on my _ received it? What does it mean? Are you ready?” in us all. Whatever he may think about Mr. Ennis here 1 J was much relieved when he produced nothing but I tried my fountain pen and found it worked as usual. has imagination just like everybody els« It is only a yp watch and a pad of paper “Yes, | am ready.” cuestion of its cultivation.” Now, Mr. Ennis,”’ said the professor, “on looking over ‘Very well,”’ said the professor. ‘‘This is what was In that case he had better st tin cult g | newspapers no doubt you have often observed what printed in the Times * Jasper Tick-tock, tick-tock gift,” said Mr. Burfield ed CE because ‘ ila ertisements; as, for instance, from Sweetie.’”’ you ve convinced mé VI ve need gning hirnself A. B. C. to another whom he call ‘“What was that again?”’ | asked this e is men of im: yn ar s 1 if we can't

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Witha Sudden Burst Aen t of Constructive Im: | = ; . agination I Replied : as Follows: ‘Yes, $ t BETO . ‘ Willa,I Have Solved — : ‘ . the Problem’’ ‘ \ \\ t nik ; ; ’ \\ n \ metir y t \ th her W Wet M{ i ‘ > Pi t i It was Prof ! I e and, W ut WwW U) , res e he . me ex nue I have just left 1 r \ M »UrTie il le ‘ I i } ma }] ate contere t r ‘ ‘ t | n the means o! deve eve ‘ t r ‘ iH St ‘ 4a ties I \\ . { “ n e tor a he ! Lu i j ( I t ¢ mag i i sé ‘ t in imaginat that | g é ig f es us to realize ou ‘ O} that s« | j " vreea G enoug! A tor | ‘ develop them from the material we have, we will pick “Yes, Mr. Enr ind remember we ould distinguis! nfidence in eit want t ! them where they are already dev yped That will do between the lachrymose neurot mag tion tha " | i Ennis, but kindly remember, the fact that you are hard good to anybody and the sane imag yn t build ! working and put your money in savings-bank account realizable future Now, for instance, 100 it i thie j i ‘ doesn’t mean that your present job is cinched. From now _ building across the street and then, closing your eye e finished when he Kpre ' ' y once I ‘ ‘ ( vyhnen your imagination ¢ » be heard, listen to it if you can imagine a vast establishment oO ipying t! é i t ‘ r ‘ Qur entire force is to be reorgani: and when the smoke tire second floor.’ Closing eyes as directed I was pleased rit eye of battle clears away, I hope, En: | hope you will still to observe that after a couple of minutes I was able t ind re . th us magine this without d i ‘ , ‘ as That is splendid, Mr. Ennis. I have proved to you tha plea iy [ ‘ , ‘ I an we fovasaid is the matter with you”?”’’ asked Willa that you have a constructive imagination; you see possibilitic grateful, and I eas | 1 Is¢ n evening. ‘‘As your fiancée I demand to know why It is only a question of proper development. Now take the fortunate nature, v make r « for me you keep muttering tick-tock, tick-tock. My best explana- next step. Imagine yourself as the general manager, and trust anybod Please, please f en tion is that somebody has hypnotized you and now you | the entire office on the floor working under your directior S t r t , think you are a timepiece Have you any idea what took n t ver to ge th but was ‘ t r | treet in the saying when you tick-tocked last?” fied t } I could see myself bawling ! m ¥ é “You were say thinking quicl that out one of n , mir ‘ \ ‘ ! é blowing our joint Duliding fun } " eighty dollars and would bl got that ra St ntinued on Page “There you go again, Jasper hit you and with what full account of what had hay ‘It is hopeless to dope ou when I had finished ‘Prob: they do because they were bort Burfield, whose 0) suyye yination as a tru oad of p I ne n native, quite probably uur case I fear he w be ao ‘How so, Willa?” ome people eT re dose of imagination; others ar most of my male relatives, you the second class My grandfat! South let his imagination run aw him in the case of Conted erate money My father mignt have ived some thing out of the wreck i he nadn t been persuaded that he had enough imag natior to select winning ace horses. And I tor to you from the first, Ja per, because as nearly as I could make out, you had other job 4 man who tr ght and Professor’s Neck fhe Said De You Mean You are W t Trust M 1 th far ww > where an imagination King Dropping Her Arms From the

Page 18

Hi celebrated senator had a lot of white waistcoat that hit on red-and-blue bunting of a barrier around the spezker’s stand when he leaned forward to puff a entence at the crowd. Lupus felt that these impacts ild make some sort of noise, but the big man kept roar ehement and musically through the heat that his mach’'s collisions with the draped rail were not aud ble But it was very interesting. Lupus dangled his legs from the window sill above Judd’s drug store and watched this ient being comfortably. Certainly nine-tenths of Couveris and the county had jammed Iro- Street for the pageant and the unveil- of the new monument. Lupus looked flown on wet necks rising from damp blue white shirts, on female blouses mois- tened at the shoulder so that pink flesh how 1 iowed

through their tis- ues, and he thought how funny a crowd looked from ‘A great wave of spuri- ous criticism,’’ the speaker bawled, “has engulfed the yuntry, attacking our In- stytootions, our past and e our present!”’ Lupus blinked, and urned his head to see Sf whether his wife was smil- ng. it seemed that this wasn't just the way to pro- yunce institutions, and Mary was smiling ‘ 1 — , I guess the fella ain’t

goed,”’ Lupus od, getting hold of her hand

‘Sh-h-h! He’s charming, Lupus.” ‘He's got an awful pod on him,” said Jet he weighs two hundred

‘But he has a beautiful mind,’”” Mary murmured. ‘I think it’s the best Fourth

y speech I ever heard.” Beyond her Mr. Van Eck spat into his red < handkerchief and purred, ‘“* Dumber’n | ever heard. Your woman’s bein’ sarcastic, boy I know ‘at, pop. I’m gettin’ wiser every day Bein’ married again,’’ Lupus explained, ‘‘is good for Mary brushed some loops of hair back into the masses about her ears and said, ‘‘Sh-h! Listen t this eloquence, Lupus! I think he’s hypnotized Caro Lupus hunted the muddle of the crowd and saw his son Carolus sitting with three other aborigines on the limb of a tree that lanced out close to the platform Carolus had just been the most distinguished member of the Indian tribe which began the parade of the Couveris pageant. Everybody admired the kid stalking ff the other lads and young men down Iroquois

Street. Now Carolus was straddling the dark limb of the maple and his amber legs glowed between streaks of colored paints. His funny headdress of fur, horns and feathers

you could see that he was giving the Western senator his full attention

If this country,” the orator declared, thudding his Waistcoat on the railing, ‘‘is to stand for the ideals it has ne hed since Washin'ton resigned himself to the cold embrace of death, it cannot afford to listen to the criti ms of the discontented few If the spirit of our an upus got a cigarette out of his pocket and thought that Carolus was looking like a spirit of his ancestors You ouldn’t get away from it. It was—well, distinguished to have Indian blood and to show it in your smooth, red skin and your eyes and hair. Carolus was the best-looking kid j The kid looked grand, I think,’’ he yawned Don't be so conceited,”’ said Mary “I think the Van I egoism is simply ferocious! Caro looks just like you 1 Rain-in-the-Face, and you know it!” Mr. Van Eck said sleepily, “I don’t mind, girl. Lupus is best-lookin’ out of the lot, but the Van Ecks have always been worth lookin’ at. Carolus is a damn good- lookin’ fella. I never seen nothin’ in lookin’ like a Greek 1 Greek gods always look kind of dumb to me | ! 1 that’ t vin’ the discus looks like he'd die if THE SESTHETICS 37,7#0MaS BEER

SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927

the mayor made himself a committee f of one to go to New York an’ git us a STIRS i TI monument. I bet it’ll be grand.’”’ Pop was being sarcastic, Lupu knew, because his voice seemed to be

asleep in his throat and his narrow bronze face was motionless around | mouth. Pop was somehow tremendous today, although he was coatless and his faded blue shirt hung open all dow: his tough breast, and one white chicker feather clung to the brass ring at the end of his wooden peg that replaced the leg left in Cuba in 1898. But he was dreadfully imposing *‘It’s awfully sad,’ Paramore said “and it’s the result of living abroad for two years; but I don’t know who the mayor of Couveris, New York Just now **Nate Cotton, Siddy,”’ Mr. Van I purred. ‘The feller that runs the fur niture store beside the post office That’s him beside this howlin’ wolf or the platform, next to Mattie Dodd.’ Lupus examined Nate Cotton past the branches of two trees, and thought

that the mayor was swollen today. He was askinny fellow, but some emotion had puffed him up and his face glis tened below his pinkish hair in a proud fashion. He was not the Nate Cottor of weekdays, sitting now among the grandees and politely fanning littke Mrs. Dodd with a palm leaf ‘He sell ful furniture ‘I tried to find a typewriter desk in his place

Paramore on Saturday. Everything that

wasn't a dollar’s worth of pine painted to look like bad Louis Seize was something in cheap walnut with lumps and bad ornament on 1.” ‘Thank the Lord,” Mr. Van Ec} t drawled, ‘‘near everything out in Ps our house was made before the Rebellion. I bet the bed in the <4 spare room’s the one old Peter Van Eck an’ his Injun woman slep’ in back in the Rev’ lution, when he was home from chasin’ the British, or a them chasin’ him.” % “Sachem,” said Mary, ‘‘you mustn't be discon 2 tented and indulge in spurious criticism of your \ country’s institutions.” ‘ *“You’re too sassy for a preacher's widder, girl. I’m f ee more patriotic than most. I buste d up the biggest nue Gebséeton.** 040 bar in Saratoga in 92, when a fella from New York 4 Speaker Bawled, ‘‘Has said that Lord Salisbury made a better speech thar Engulfed the Country, Grover Cleveland did. Never heard either of 'em Attacking Our Instytoo: speak, but I could be awful patriotic on three tions, Our Past and Our P yo fingers of bourbon when Lupus was in diapers resent! Gimme a cig’rette, Lupus. . . . Hey, he’s stopped talking!”’ he had to make a livin’ with his head; and that Venus with The Western statesman was bowing his stomach to the no arms—hell!—a fella’d die if he seen her three times a_ rails as the crowd applauded him. Lupus hoped that no- day. All those Greek statues look dumb to me.” body would ever ask him what he thought of this speech, Sidney Paramore stopped turning the leaves of a maga- because he hadn’t heard much of it. The only speech he zine and lightly said, ‘‘They’re abstractions, Mr. Van Eck. _ had ever really listened to was some words of his colonel They were an expression of a racial ideal of symmetry and when the regiment broke up one morning on Long Island they weren't meant to look intelligent. They were to ex- in 1919, and there hadn’t been much of that He reco press an wsthetic. They were decorative emblems of the lected that the colonel hoped the regiment would think national taste in its most dignified form. Of course, they kindly of their year in France with him, and that was about look dumb. That’s the trouble with abstractions. I’m all the old devil said. But the Western senator bowed and waiting to see if the war monument will be an abstraction bowed and people clapped their hands. A prodigious smell or a realism, and then I’m going home to lunch. I wish of chewing gum, perfumes and sweat came up from the this flood of clichés would stop.” shifting bodies below Lupus, and over in the maple tree, **What’s clichés, Sid?”’ Lupus asked. Carolus stood on his branch with a heavier Indian balancing

‘Stale expressions, Injun,” the slim gray man said, behind him. Then little Mrs. Dodd rose nervously from smiling. He got out of his chair and strolled up the the chair on the platform and someone handed her a long

photographer's gallery to glance past Mr. Van Eck’s blue silken rope. Three gold stars in a line on her black dress shirt, toward the orator. ‘‘The monument looks pretty glittered nervously, and she nervously began to pull on the

bulky. I hope it’s not more than three figures. By the rope. A stark white sheet draping the new monument way, who did it?” stirred back of the platform and the hidden bandsmen

Mr. Van Eck spat absently inta the street and drawled, lifted The Star-Spangled Banner’s first bars through the

“Dunno, Sid. They got up the subscription last fall an’ ether noises. All at once Lupus felt silly and hot down his

Page 19

back, because the sun glowed on all ays and the red It’s the quintesss tn ‘ courthouse across the square had a head in every window Mrs. Lupus, who's respor ‘ And then the covering slipped from the monument and Mary drawled, ‘“‘The mayor. A few pe e tried t } M ) ‘ etwer behind Lupus, pop’s stick grated on the floor yest that a committee ought to help him, but the aldermer in t ' . ecume “There she is,”’ said Sidney Paramore made him a committee of one. I suppose it ist what we mage Lupus ground a fist on his ear and looked at a brown might have expected woman— bronze, she must be —in a kind of nightgown who “Sure,’” Lupus said Nate Cottor af \lwa lier w was holding up a crumpled young doughboy. The doug! was. He was in my class at hig! till I got ex i n I boy had been hit somewhere and had torn open his shirt as He’s as dumb as | am , he reeled back on the woman’s arm. But he had thrown ““My word Paramore murmured t} f it! but he ew ? away his helmet and some of his belts, and that puzzled Maverty had that thing at a show me I eve r Lupus Sut the woman's face was baz back in 1920. He r é more puzzling, because she looked up Cor ation. or Victo n , ( ward and beyond the curly metal of the then. I remember getting a he ‘ i er boy’s head. She really seemed to be from looking at it N f i looking at Carolus Van Eck, 2d, in the draperie ive fold ! ‘ maple tree. Carolus had drawn in his the best museums 00k at the Pe e alw legs and was squatting on the boug! Mr. Van Eck asked drow You Well, Carolus was inordinately cul say this muss was in an exhibition ba Wi the woma | tured for an eighteen-year-old. Prob- in 1920, Siddy \w 1 wouldn't w he ably he knew what to think of th “Yea, sir.” i 1 er the cre kk monument. Lupus did not know what “Dead sure?” Dodd and his! got tl i t Ps tothink. He looked timidly left at his aa : Paramore leaned past Lupu and larn Go mootn alte t , t ‘ i) wife and then squinted over his shoul 7 stared at the glowing lady whoseemed died an’ the wi \ der at Sidney Paramore, who'd been to - ‘ Mary to be simpering at the Indians in the an’ there Harvard and to some college in France tree 4 slow. colored movement beygar the place Ihe rr when he was young. Then he looked on the street; people went forward past the maple and the right now, but the ‘ bad tir l wn back at the statue. It had cost ten platform to look. Men were pulling coats together prin mortgag He { I bet t A five thousand dollars; one thousand came from pop’s bank as they climbed the steps of the stage to shake hand hundred ba terest, hul account — price of a fine roan colt. So this was the mon with the senator; a leaf vibrated high in the heat and it Your fathe sid Paramore n mie ument! Tiny, among the standing men on the platform, shadow waltzed on the dying doug! nose Ma ment \ r r Mrs. Dodd was still foolishly holding the silken rope. The “Gee,” said Lupus, “‘that’s a sick statue! platform, “It awful marrying in | an tribe, M band stopped playing The Star-Spangled Banner Sid Paramore drew back and said, “Yes. It’s the one Paramore. The i rt me around a tres **Gee,” said Lupus, “‘I think that’s lousy!” Maverty showed in 1920. I’ve an excellent memory f{ when you're fixing a garte lering a mo His wife gasped, ‘Oh, darling!” bad statue rhis is the same one. W ‘ lhe ‘ nging | Ar ‘ “Well,” Lupus said, “I do!’ He was thirty-seven “Then this town,”” Mr. Van Eck drawled has } 1 ter Rain-in-the-Face Lupus, the Dod en't years and one month old and she was only twenty-nine, thousand dollars for a stale piece of far goods this have the no matter how good her grammar might be He wasn't sculpturer was tryin’ to sell back then! I like that. That pu ne second admired i head al going to let her walk on him. ‘‘I think it’s rotten. There interestin’. Well,’’ he went on casually, having spat, “I see blue shirt worming stead tov t ain’t any sense to it. Goon an’ tell me I’ma barbarian or that Mattie Dodd’s fainted. She would. You git a womar steps among gaping people. Then |} i At's night sumpin.” that lost three sons in a war an’ have her unve t made fo ed ! Sidney Paramore clapped his shoulder and said, ‘“‘You’ve uary that looks like a label on a beer bottle an’ t r is packed ir " g, a got the makings of a critic in you, Injun! It’s abysmal! thing she could do is to faint to00s Dodd ain't eve Continued en Page 141 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘*Here, Red, What's This Intuition Thing?’’

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18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HOW COME PIGEONS? pigeons for his birthday r HIS child wants present was my mother speaking to By Coles Phillips June 11,1927 homers they are This was for racing pigeons called by fanciers, and carriers by the laity. They are the athletes of the pigeon world —birds which, properly trained, will fly 500 or 600 miles in the ‘Why pigeons? ‘hat the first time I had heard the question, for thirty years more or less I have been trying answer it. I am trying to do so now mversation preceded by a day my eighth birthday anniversary. It resulted in a car- ge trip to the shop of a carpenter near my school. At in the shop, among shavings and lumber d unfinished window frames and things, were hree reo! They belonged to the son of the carpent Butch Yonkers, a boy in my grade at hool. I had sat with Butch in the shop and watched them every afternoon after school since the term had begun that fall. Butch didn’t want day without stopping for food or water, and unk What the weather is bad, look no different from they did when they left the loft There are three national associations of pigeon fanciers in this y boasts 4798 members, and the two others are not far behind this number. Amalgamation has been discussed for years, but has not been brought about as yet. All sorts of men make up the membership country, one of which of these associations— college professors, ministers, millionaires and laborers. They hav conventions, which are very largely last for about a week. There their annual attended and are nine magazines TYPES OF SQUABS PRO: DUCED ON MR. PHILLIPS' PIGEON FARM 4 , ae : : , w i Above—Hungarian At Left—Silver King At Right—White King Below —JSolid Red Carneaux Jutch’s father, the carpenter, to cultivate much of a taste for them. They were for sale, and ten cents each was them, but juldn’t seem ne consideration I acquired them and took them home, and no ion I have ever had since has given me so They were named at once Bill, Belle and John. Bill was pure white, big, bold and blustering, while Belle and John were a pair, blue, possess much pleasure with black bars and wonderful iridescent necks. In my innocence I had provided the eternal tri- angle, and poor quiet John was the victim. On my birthday the gardener and I built for them published dealing exclusively with pigeons, all which have their racing-pigeon departments, and four of which deal with these athletes alone Clocking the Racers HERE are immense concourse races held ever) spring and fall, where all the clubs within a radius of some prescribed distance such as fifty miles con bine and fly a series of races. It is not unusual to have 6000 entries in these races f conditioned birds liberated at sunup in some little town in the Carolinas, with the task be 6000 ca fore then i cote, which we placed on the roof of the garden tools and lawn mowers and hose and kept. It had little windows and a little h a white porcelain knob. I had clipped one wing of each bird, carpenter’s boy had told me that they would not fly iway if I did that. They lived and were fed and watered on the roof of this garden house, but life was scarcely house where h things were aoor wit Bill was a tyrant rth the living to John. Bill took his wife away from him d then bullied him unmercifully. There was just one yt in which John was allowed to stay unmolested, and I W not a desirable spot from a pigeon point of view. A Thrill That Can't be Equaled | VILL seemed iy to Belle, as they sat on the top of ) their box I abhor the sight of that John. I think hunt him up and paste him a few just for luck.”’ Belle ( rent to the whole matter. John was, after all, ted le yw, she seemed to consider, and it served B was I dea of a real pigeon Bill would thereupon vund and round the roof until John finally took sanctuary — an exposed perch under the eaves | i Bill had to do was to make a threatening r lol uld make for this perch a poor, cowed, ! felt immensely sorry for John, but I didn’t know how ! liven if it had occurred to me to get him i didn’t know where to find any more pigeons. 1 them, and I hurried home after arned about pigeons feathers dror t pea ou and new feathers one by one replaced the stumps. They began making trips to the ground and ended by flying clear to the roof of the house. John disappeared. I hunted for John all over the ground and the neighborhood, and I grieved for him, but he never came back. Bill and Belle served me a scurvy trick place in the angle of the brick laundry and the kitchen just under the eaves, and became totally inaccessible to me. They selected a Strange moaning sounds came from this recess for several days, and then Bill busied himself carrying little sticks from under the oak trees one by one to Belle, hidden within the recess. He was at it for days, ending up by bringing straws one at a time from the barn 100 yards away. For weeks after this I never saw the two birds together, when one morning Belle appeared with an egg shell in her beak which she dropped on the ground. The next day I found another one, and the two halves would not fit to- gether. They had hatched two little ones It was almost more than I could bear not to see those What By and by piping noises came from the recess, youngsters. color would they be? and one fine morning two new- comers poked their funny heads out. One was pure white like Bill, and the other blue. You fellows who have sold your first painting or story, or bought your first car, don’t know what a real thrill is When I bought my home in the asked another, *‘What is that Phillips is building in his back garden?” “Well, Ldon’t know, but I was told that it hut it scarcely seems possible Why pigeor country neighbor Mr one strange-looking thing is for pigeons; ‘p ) Pigeons , Long Island or Jersey before darkness comes again. With any sort of weather they will do it with ease. With any sort of luck they will fly from Pensacola, Florida, in several days They are sent in special cars in specially constructed ship of making their lofts in Westchester ping crates holding about forty birds each. Two experi enced liberators go with them to care for them and see that they get away to an even start. There are all sorts of races— derbies, team 1 There are frequently big manner OF pt races and match races. prizes for the winners, and there are all bird pools, loft pools and auction pools match races for $5000 a side. I hear someone asking how a man in Jersey cat against a man in Westchester County have eighty miles farther to fly than the other. That true; but the awards are made on what is ed yard that is, yards per minute over the distance. Each mar distance is accurately surveyed from his loft to the point of liberation. A timing machine is used which must cor tain the secret countermark taken from the returned racer before the clock is started, or, if it be of another n punched. The presence in the clock of the rubber counter mark, with its hidden secret number known only to +} + +} } incontrovertible proof tha é i race arrived at his loft. it will not start until the countermark is placed wit! secretary, 1S is been runntt The time the clock ha locked in subtracted from the time of day, gives the Y of arrival of the bird. There are various kinds of cl but the variety described is the simplest to explain Pigeon racing is a wonderful sport. I am certain we get out of it every thrill that the breeder and racer of TI oughbreds gets, without the big investment and the

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eXpense The pedigree of a thor oughbred racing pigeon is one ol the most elaborate things you ever looked at I have had them in my pedigree book running back fort generations. They make the ped grees of most race horses look like those of upstarts. You must bear in nm a tna rd atniete S t make when he is six months old and that you get a new generation every year He can, bar ring accidents, give as good an ac ount of himself in his eighth racing ear as he did as a yearling Again, your racing pigeon Is ex- tremely intelligent. If he isn’t he'll never come home He must pick out his course, exercise his memory, oid hawks. Perhaps this territory is passing over was sunlight and ne shadow when he saw it a year ago Today it is gray and misty and landmarks are obscured by the fall- ng rain It looks totally different must fly low and keep his wits about him. It is always the smart bird that makes the winner, lost at the first or second training stupid trainer and liberate your | crazy, andsome of them certainly look it in the eye even around a fenced-in track? The minutes, the pigeon for fourteen hours a horse would run in the wrong directior where, anywhere, as fast as he can until Waat a Racing Pigeon Must Know F' RTHERMORE, I'll gamble th: condition a team of birds than norses not more physical labor, bu work. To begin with, a bird must be he must be taught to trap instantly whe I'he bird on your roof is no good to you; countermark, and in order t words; and although two seconds may mak« ence, ll the race is a fast one, between first place and twenty first, you must move siowly and quietly and handle your bird ‘ gently. Get ex cited and rough and st your fast bird is ulined Sa ice He'll remember it when he re from the next race, In addition to this ne must be pointed for the particular race in which he 1s ex- pected to shine, and owance must be made tor the two or three days he must spend in the shipping crates here is the ib. It is a cinch to ondition a bird fora ice, but now to pre mso that three en days in a jolting ex- press Car where n he eats and irinks, and maybe he doesn't will not hamper him and he good enoug! ever by any chance the stupid one ones guide the dumb ones home e horses, on the other hand, I am told, « races could be run without men ice He doesn’t know a single thing but o get tha hands. This bird must THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Kings, Ready for Shipment During the sumn An wo u#

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N A PLEASANT white house at the green lawn, geraniums here and there and box- wood shrubs in pot-bellied bowls, two young persons One of , dabbed the tears away at intervals and at the cruel heel of fate which was about rear of a smooth wit!

sat at breakfast and discussed the end of the world. them wept softly alled impotentls rush them. who was pretty and young and he wife of the cold-hearted, rosy-faced fellow oss from her and grinned at her word pictures of Che weeper was Rosalie,

é n't bad as you think,” said Dave, the two-year isband. “This isn’t going to kill anybody.” Oh,” said Rosa ‘how can you sit there and say that? How car ) flippant, when everything we have in é wo s t ‘Everything not lost,’’ David contended. ‘‘And I wish you would stop being a cry-baby.”’ I ot crying,” said Rosalie. ‘‘ But it’s too terrible, wa we have worked and scrimped and denied eve g to get this home. And you sit there n garettes as calm as you please.” : I) ‘You want me to get a handker- ) Vil? u - . with obvious gusto to devour bacon and tand tos offee, smoke his cigarette and read the I g pape ist as though the universe was not bursting é Hew t calm young husband, David was, with cu a pinkish countenance and inclined ‘ i tle was dressed in the standard uniform of a ayer. There was a healthy, cheerful, reliant some- this hour of nis man tnat survived, even in

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST OUT, INAND ON He Poised Himself Above the Ballin This Moment of Crisis, Studied the Line Carefully But Briefly, and Gave His Ball a Firm, Deliberate Tap grave stress, with the guns of misfortune booming and the stormy seas driving their little bark upon the rocks. Too, David was a fighter and a never-give-upper, which is something a real golfer learns to be; whereas Rosalie was lovely and girlish, a delight to the roving eye and a marvelous little woman about the house, but she was not a fighter. She was, if the truth must be told, the least little bit timid. *“You haven't any sporting blood,’’ Dave often told her in her moments of maidenly panic, chuckling to take the curse off his comment. ‘‘ You are a fraidy-cat, which in a man we would call yellow. Throw out your chest and bea woman.” Rosalie did not mind being called names by her husband, whom she adored beyond all in the world. ‘Il may not have any sporting blood,”’ she admitted, on this morning of black woe; ‘“‘but I can look definite facts in the face, and it makes me miserable to lose everything we have after we worked so hard.” “Only two years,’ Dave retorted. ‘* What's two years? Something is bound to happen, anyhow, so we haven't lost everything yet.” “We have,” persisted Rosalie. ‘We lost all our lovely house, our nice furniture and our poor little have Car. “No,” said Dave stoutly. tle car. It’s a swell roadster.”’ ‘And to think,’’ mourned the weak one, “‘the day after tomorrow they will come and take everything from us. I can see the men tearing the pictures off the wall. Then She squeezed back a ‘** Anyhow, it’s not a poor lit- where shall we go? The poorhouse!”’ dozen outbound tears

June 11,1927 By FRANK CONDON ILLUSTRATED So Cc. D. WILLIAMS

‘No,”’ persisted Dave, s SMoKINg il! V Buck uy} sister. You are a female calamity howle While there life there is hope, and anything can happen between now and Monday tosalie drank her coffee without tasting it, and grieved anew. She stared at her young husband and marveled that he could remain so serene in the face of these multifold d tomorrow would be for the McCoy and the worst of it was that Christmas Day, and what a Christmas Day ' family! ‘Heigh-ho!”’ asters; said Dave finally, after having consumed a hearty breakfast. ‘I think little golf.’ ‘You would,” said Rosalie, and bristling with indignatior

golf today, of all days. If that isn’t just know!” ‘*Sweet woman,” said Dave, “‘what else is there a ma can do on the day before Christmas? “Go right ahead,” urged Rosalie Play your fiddle while Rome burns.” Regarding this as a dramatic curtain, she rose into the tiny kitchen, where she about at a great rate. golf socks carefully, discovering the expected holes and and swept banging dishes begat David grinned and examined I finding he could conceal them by turning the t Now it is true that tragedy stalked abroad and the M: Nobody t ps down. could deny tha Coy family was in dire straits +

Dave had recently lost his position as cashier for a larg company manufacturing plaster board, the simple re son that the firm had failed, closed its doors and gone to the wall. Three such jobs David had held, and three stout companies had folded their tents, leaving the young hu band adrift. So it was not Dave's fault in any way The little white houss sum of three hundred dollars due the real-estate compar was in danger, for there was the on the day following Christmas. In fact the was long overdue and the jovial real-estate people had given Dave until the twenty-sixth of the up —‘‘failing which,” said the letter, ** we take action of a drastic nature.” There was, too, the painfully new furniture, with the pale-blue overstuffed < = lavenport with the semi-Oriental rug and the piano lamp, all boug

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with loving hands, paid for bit by bit, with much sacrifice and scrimping. One hundred dollars was due the furnitu concern and had been due f weeks and weeks Another hundred would have to be paid on the ca the beautilu gray roadster which Dave and Rosalie had purchased or the standard installment plan in the happy times of job and afthuence The car, in particular, was the delight of their young They guarded it tenderly. They swabbed it off wit! chamois and fine linen and polished away the tiniest spots after each rain, and it was a communal joke with the neighbors and a saying that when a person looked out a window, a person would be bound to see either Dave or Losalie polishing the shiny roadster Wherefore the Me¢ oy tamily paus

disaster and Dave talked lightly o before Christmas, whilst Rosalie choked back her tears and waxed wrothy anew ‘That's the whole trouble with this fan | she said, coming into the breakfast room and brandishing a dishrag at her youthful mate. ‘‘ You and your fancy country clubs lave Just about ruined us. What mortal right have you to belong to a club, and us as poor as church mice ‘No use going over all that again,’ answered David cheerily. ‘There is! Acting like a young millionaire, belonging to private golf clubs and one suit of clothes to your back.’ “Well, it’s a good suit. Very neat looking.” = you lover me,’’ protested Rosalie, commencing a long speech, which proceeded nowhere, because Dave arose and clasped the speaker in his arms, and once he did guments dissolved into nothingness

and her reproaches vanished like mist in the glittering sun No lady can remain really angry with a gentleman who keeps kissing the words of accusation away as the form

lips, and Rosalie gave up the job and ceased

mant wile statistics show,”’ David announced, with his knee and smiling again, ‘that although

dead busted, we are not really so, but in fact are worth exactly thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars That would be the present valuation of my future earnings, according to John Drum, the famous actuary of the Drum Actuarial and Statistics Corporation, of New Yerk City.” No!” said Rosalie, sur prised. fift “Tre St sae THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

e mu i ; ‘ i lev« ( n t ee

‘ ’ ™ I we ¢ A . ; u minule e would add eight } ‘ ‘ ) cd n ga gra t 0 hundre i e little ave ‘ sne W re t tot \ t xt ‘ one i ( teer ‘ ‘ ‘ } haart: es nee ‘ ‘ t i Ne ‘ expe S Ro , ig ; And now Dave. ren ‘ ! nee 4 ‘ ) ( ‘ r M \ Y« ] l m tree la uu é ! ‘ eg, ) <a n tune wit the me ( Wwe \ have a grand nr \I 1 . Worries On what ed Rosa iv me t I have hers S Dave n irt in good old cash. You shall have seve t. Buy asma G ine i M M chicken, because | e roast er and some t wa eer giits, and a nice ttie tree with afewd ids; and wew KR ‘ pass out in a burst of Yuletide glory, let the " We ‘ he might d b where they may.” that, M Mulqueet fosalie accepted the seven dollars, or fishberries as t he tu 1 abru ar are quaintly termed in Chicago, and started to look ul! and pr t N ‘ ur ng ol the ca { ead she sudader N i nerseil and sn 1 f £ B ‘ Thing e bo t me ¢ g sic f ‘ ) Davy, ‘“‘and you'll have to admit I'm no loafer, Ro I’m a worker ve looked high and low fora ». The last the Christma ur ‘ z and turne one exploded under me, and the one before that; and 1 bea fine plum; e! melte know yourself there is no ust king for work on the da Or before Christma lLveryone buying gilts and the office ested one dollar ‘ t M rT the ¢ downtown are deserted Rosalie nodded ‘So l may a line indust iY w ! well dash out and iy alittle golf. Do mea world of good tune, but not any t mer n! ‘ Take my mind off things.” Continued on Page 99

And to Think Mourned the Weak One, the Day After Tomorrow They W i Come and Take Everythi

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LACEY SMITH ned her golder i} re st re OWS | LOU She oped | SATURDAY EVENING POST LION ILLUSTRATED Br June 11, 1927 By MAUDE PARKER HAROLD DENISON aressing tat le ‘*‘No, darling, I don’t mean wicked in that way ] mean Wel Il have the kind o mind that love intrigue and loves to work things out in my own way If I'd been a mar en re I'd robably have Sa matter } done what my t ew father did. He i nterested made a lot ‘ yked be money in cor Erne né tracting and 1) who taced real estate, a ne na aight mixed up In poll i na ner tics, Dut he would ie eves might } never hold any } e been conten public office, be t s° Lie Cause ne said fe i wi! nad more pows uted above tne outside. Asama rged New York ter of tact, he w { sible at or time the } lv he parted most niluer s irtains mat n tne tate He . but the newspa n i pers never eve a W o printed his pict iving for time and scarcely m ever. She said a Me a rhe St f It ur t i he > ail t od to be true money and di i mu be varetul \ ner teatu must ge io seemed to sharp i ne nar 0 S she spoke ol me at Aloud st 1 “TIT Love Luxury. I Can't Afford It. I Exchange My Wits for It’’ It’s funr sweet i you sudder ) ilike drawl, ‘You'll have a glass of sherry anda ___ because she paid you 20 per cent of the bill afterward. But looked exactly like him. I never saw the resemblance b won't you, my dear?”’ on the other hand, neither could any of her rich friends fore. I remember going toa birthday party at your h« Oh, I don’t know.”” Ernestine pushed back the coat say openly that they wanted Mildred to stay with them once when we were about twelve, I gu he came eeve of her sensible gray tweed walking suit to consult at Newport in order to throw a jealous husband off the with a present for each of us ” She i al her wrist watch. “I'd like to get this thing settled, Mil- isn’t much time, you know. Bromley’s got to the icebergs begin to thaw, and if you can't ters to finance him he'll have to find someone had pressed the crystal-and-oynx bell which 1e decorated head of her bed; before Ernestine had finished speaking a middle-aged maid appeared at the door. Her black uniform seemed an incongruous note in luxurious ultra-feminine setting, but her manner left nothing to be desired. ‘‘ Madame has rung?” \fter her mistress had given the order Ernestine sighed. Honestly, Mildred, I don’t see how you do it. You get more service out of that one woman than I do out of eight ts, and I'll wager you don’t pay her half as much.” dred stretched her bare arms in a gesture of content- that was almost feline. ‘‘Oh, we understand each She’s been with me—well, ; i many years.” lon’t need to worry about irs. Even in this don't look a day over twerty-three.’’ Ernestine or at her own reflection; her figure matroniy and her face appeared broader because of mall gray felt hat pushed down so as almost to hide Then she looked back at Mildred, md prettiness was enhanced by a negligee of blue and lace S} ghed again. “*Nobody’d ever think we'd gone to school together and were within a few months ame age. | look ten years older than you do.”’ Well, you won't after I've gone with you to get your imme thes, my dear. I know a perfectly divine w woman, Madame Simone, who makes hats and dresses ng. She’s fabulously expensive, but worth it And you simply must lose ten pounds right away.” >” You re angel to take sO much pains with me No, I’m not.” Mildred moved a little uncomfortably he tir ented pillows. She wished that Ernes- would st« king at her with that kindly expression Wt lidm't Ernestine have sense enough to realize that he é iy becoming — and expensive— clothes A rofession with her? Of course, you couldn't say i yu took then © Madame Simone scent when a certain bachelor’s yacht was anchored in the harbor These things were rarely expressed concretely, nor was there usually any need for words; both sides understood the tacit quid pro quo. Mildred had no scruples about urging her friends to spend twenty thousand dollars on their spring wardrobes and then collecting from the mo- diste a commission big enough to pay for her own carefully planned wardrobe for the entire year. She knew that sooner or later, in return for this material favor, she would be called upon for her contribution of resourcefulness, and quickness of wit, and above all, com} lete discretion But in all these years since they had known each other. Ernestine had never before asked Mildred to do anything for her. And even now it was something which Mildred so longed to undertake, for reasons entirely of her own, that she had to draw heavily upon her fund of self-control to keep from showing the excitement which was bubbling up through her veins like coffee rising through a percolator. The maid brought in a low glass-topped table and put it between the two women. She placed upon it a silver tray covered with the finest of lace doilies, two crystal goblets, a square decanter mounted with silver and a silver platter of thin biscuits. “These are all right,’’ said Mildred fattening; I never eat anything else.”’ She poured only a few drops of the red liquid into her glass; the other she “They're non- filled and handed to her guest. ‘* Here’s to exploration! Her voice expressed spontaneous gayety, which was rare in her ‘To exploration !”’ eyes glowed. “‘Oh, Mildred, I am so glad you’re going te As Ernestine lifted the glass, her do it! You're an angel!” ‘If you call me an angel once more I shall change my mind and not do it.”’ her normal composure had returned. She smiled. “I am Her tones were again slow and sweet; really a very wicked woman, Ernestine, only you're so nice yourself that you'll never believe me.” Then she laughed outright as she saw her visitor's gaze turn instinctively toward the three photographs of men, n Nandsome s er frames, which stood on the painted with embarrassment Mildred’s n a dug into her flesh. But she only drawled, “* Yes, | remen ber. What a darling dad was!”’ Ernestine clumsily changed the subject These wall ands were so tightly clenched that the area heavenly color, Mildred They're paler than robir egg and not so deep as powder blue “Yes, it is a nice room. I was thinking the other day that your south guest room in the country would be love done like this.” “Wouldn’t you mind “‘T’d be flattered. I'll take you to the same man who did this one for me.’’ She picked up her engagement book, rose leather tooled in gold ‘*Now let’s see I’m going to you on Friday; I'll try to get him to go out Saturday morning and meet me there.’’ She said to herself, “‘ Than} God, I'll be able to pay him something for this room at last!’ Aloud she went on: ‘‘Then on Monday you might motor in with me and we'll do clothes.” Ernestine got up; she pulled down her jacket and put on her chamois gloves. She shook Mildred’s hand, which seemed very white and fragile against the yellow leather. *‘Good-by, and thanks a thousand times for taking on the job.” As she heard the outer door close behind her, Mildred rang for Yvonne. ‘‘Take away the tray, pull down the shades and switch off my telephone. If anyone calls up take the message and say I’m out, but will be back at one. Have my bath ready at quarter of. I'll wear my new dark blue and white for luncheon.” When the room was darkened and the maid had left, Mildred turned over and buried her face in the pillows She had so much to think about that she wanted at leas an hour of concentration. She tried to be entirely caln because she was superstitious about good luck, and this new venture contained a frightening amount of it Taken chronologically, the luck consisted, first of all, being asked to stay with Ernestine. To be sure, they had been friends for years, but since Ernestine’s marriage Randolph Draper they ha f i knew thet this w area Knew a

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST instinct for appraising the attitude of men toward her, and periectly definite scheme ¥ she knew that although he might find her attractive as a exactly this end. In order to further her plar et t r t t an er person, he did not approve of her as an intimate friend of even more care than usual with her wardrobe for the event t me t gs ast ev ‘ t 1 his wife. ful week-end with Ernestine As a result tl ure ( any time. But loesn’t me Her visit to the Drapers would increase her prestige came down to dinner on Friday night, knowing that He looke t ’ ng A ‘ with her own crowd, those half dozen families of newly looked her best in a picture gown of buttercup yellow rich, who lived only a few miles away in actual distance made her soft blond hair appear golder . but who were socially far outside the small self-contained late in the aftern« id as her hoste was out ‘ set to which Randolph and Ernestine belonged gone straight up to her room and slept for two hou i ir beag Wher ist The most important piece of luck was, of course, the Now, as she e herself a final survey in the full-len; 1 were ¢ chance to see Hacle a Peters while she was in the rignt set mirror of her bedroom door, she saw that she ( ( ri iu ‘ t 4 ce t ting. He was the richest widower on Long Island, and as_freshed, that her blue eyes were wide open and clear and e watche ‘ his origin had been somewhat humble, he was a snob that, in short, she appeared young, fragile and appealing tanned ir ntrast v ‘ M Ernestine had decided that Mildred should persuade him Never in her life had she been so determined to nm } to finance young Bromley’s flight to the North Pole most of it “1 know you can do it,”’ she had said ‘He told me last Just as she reached the landing of the stairs she iw Pe week that he had always admired you and was sorry he _ tersin the wide hall below. Although he did not glar 1 ] never saw anything of you. Then that very day Randolph — she recognized his erect figure and t} lver-gray ha trong \ came home and said that Bromley would have to give ip He's distir gZuished-looking, anyway e thougnt was undou the expedition unless he could raise at least a hundred and As she opened the door after him she perceived that r atient enoug fifty thousand dollars. We both agreed that Peters was one else was in the long white-paneled drawing-room ex Across the ! e saw R the very person to do it, but the question was how to cept her nostess, whose gown oO! pale Diue satin made t tne ill do iv convince him of it.” appear twice her size Ernestine. He came ‘ ‘ ““Couldn’t you ask him?” “Hello!”’ said Ernestine, kissing her I'm so glad I[’ms ute ‘Oh, no, he’s awfully difficult about anything to do wit! you're here. You know Mr. Peters, don't you He was handsom« money. He’s rich as mud, but absolutely temperamental ‘Of course I do.’” Mildred took his outstretched hand iiled up at him | in the way he spends it. Randolph says he'll get out of He saved my life at a Jinks dance two years ago listinetior ippea ‘ paying a club tax of fifty dollars if he can, but on the other it’s wonderful that you remember it Beneat! ilways expe hand, if he really gets interested in something, he'll hand _ his t black brows his dark eyes regarded her ad \ out half a million without a murmur.” mir y. ‘You're even prettier than you were then. How You're a ‘ eature He w **So my work is to get him interested?” do you do it?”’ hand in } lw i ‘ “Exactly. He’s dining with us on Friday night and has Ernestine grinned encouragingly at Mildred behind |} sitting ir yt the fire in tha ire \\ asked us there on Sunday. Bromley is coming out on Sat- back as she moved toward the door to welcome the other jon’t you g erandt { me er 5 Hadk urday, so we'll take him along.” arrivals eter miled with } but M There was a curious dovetailing of interests in all this ‘*Let’s sit down here by the fire.’ Mildred ledtheway to glance at his eyes and t er astor mer ww that the Ever since Sylvia Bradley's « ngagement to Grant Mason a blue sofa at the Opposite end ol! the room flashed wit innoyance Atte who up to that time had been the most eligible unmarried “It’s funny —I didn’t know till the other day that you aid and I suppose it our DI ege to monot ze the man of Mildred’s acquaintance—she had desired to see were a friend of Mrs. Draper’s,”’ he began naively prettiest lady if you want to more of Peters. Up to this time she had met with little Mildred said to hers l suppose if you had you'd have Well, we’re dining with you ~ iid M success, because although he played golf and hunted with paid more attention to me Aloud she said in her sweet He held her gaze with |} some of the men of her usual crowd, he almost always’ voice: ‘‘ Yes, Ernestine and I have been friends since w As he walked awa Jandolr ghed 1 dor found an excuse to avoid their parties when they included were ten. There's no one I’m so fond of And it’s su he liked it ata Funr neve ew him while he v women. Mildred realized that he regarded this crowd as_ fun being here; I don’t know anyone who gets so mu jut =married, but I remember now meone t nb he w socially second-rate, even though it was powerful finar of life as she and Randolphdo. They have children and lous as the de f his wife cially, and she knew that as a member of it she could never horses and dogs and books. There nt much ¢ I don’t see the mparisor Bu ‘ inne hope to interest him as seriously as she might in the role there? toward the fire to conceal the red flu ‘ of an intimate friend of Ernestine He looked at her in surprise I'm interested to hear nto her che She was still thinking over all the things she knew about you say that somehow always thought of you as leading he approach of a butler and a n wit " Hadley Peters when Yvonne knocked at the door and told a glittering life.”’ iviar turned the ynversatior her it was one o’clock less a quarter. ‘*‘Of course one takes what one can get She was sitting even as she engaged pleasant bant with Ihe ’ **Did anyone telephone?” on a low stool, her slender hand read out before t dred was pigeon} ng in her mind the informatior p ‘*‘No one but Mrs. Braite, ma- dame. She said \ thev we she was expecting tothecand} you for the week- ‘ white end and would ‘ ! ‘ send the motor ‘ ‘ Friday at four.’’ ‘ ‘ “Well, call her P up and say I’m t very sorry but that I’m spending the week-end wit! Mrs. Randolph Draper.” ss A shadow of a smile appeared or ; the maid’s face ‘Yes, madame ‘Even Yvonne ‘ knows the differ- ‘ \f ence!”’ Mildred ‘ P ‘ reflected as she ; prepared to step » ot into a warm bath. P ‘ She scooped a P handful of fra Pet grant rose-colored crystals froma huge glass jar,then splashed them into the water. ‘But I'd like to know how I could afford these or even Yvonne, for that matter —if it wasn’t for Dora Braite and her ' crew os Nevertheless, - | e had in minda When She Watked Initio Hadley Peters’ Drawing:Room, He Said, ‘‘I've Never Seen You Look So Beautiful Page 62

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June Wl, 1927 ANID Willy PGOPILE \ oy) \ entitled to? Wor outcome be tator?”’ But power and monopoly T IS curious how scant is the interest thus far taken by the public at n efforts either to promote or prevent the are never quite the sim] | ad of branch banking questions we so enjoy ma country. For in the ing them out to be f this device its true enough on o lies see a great future lurk in the extension er of monopoly’s tentacles being fastened branch idea. But everyone admits the exis of very great evils in the present sys unit banks, although here and nd a mere handful of these branch ti ; control nearly 90 per cent of all the By Llilbert W, LJltwooe found examples of extraordinary ing resources. With us, only California and efficiency of management, banks cities have thus far succumbed to DECORATIONS BY WYNCIE KING discount with the Federal Reserve , but its foes declare an inherent borrow from their correspondents or blan f the practice to be its constant and progressive centralization, the outcome of which, in there is usually a predominant party or personality in they fear will be like that in Great Britain. any such program. When two city banks combine, there management than upon any other ublic wish to encourage a great feudalistic may for a time seem to be two bosses. ‘But there are branches are just as good and no better who operate them. If the heads of branct ‘ial system, controlling the fortunes of industries and _not,”’ as one banker observes; ‘‘and when small banks are wise and strong enoug! a free people. Gy fore a panic. Suecess in any banking system depends r vast ureas, say those hostile to branches, or does taken in we do not even have the maintain the present distinctively American hallucination that there are.” il home rule and self-government in matters ‘‘Why should the dominating per- f / scientiously, sonality of a huge branch bank be perform a great ser their institutions of their own weig! ister their power et} twenty years from now, it is asserted, the less subject to the common ks will become more powerful than the Federal human failing of making mis- tself. This system was adopted in part takes?’’ ask those who combat $ “He is sub- } Success in Service + prevent banking monopoly, and was devised to the branch idea. rather than to centralize banking resources. ject to the same errors in ral Reserve may succumb, say the more ex- judgment as other bankers. He is, N CALIFORNIA, where so many of the branch idea, to what are in if anything, more liable to hear the . small community banks h: e privately owned reserve systems, the call of ambition, of competition, of been bought out | speculation. Accumulation by pur- chase does not increase in any mysterious manner mental capacity. There is no great has been to leave the circle of wisdom.” ger. In at least one instance a num! it European countries have central govern- Franklin W. Fort, who is one of the congressmen from managers are directors in the which have functioned for many years with- New Jersey, is himself president of a bank, and president participate in the discussion and adopti lowed up or swamped by the great privately or director of numerous corporations. Yet a few days _ policies. In this way the best practices ystems. It is true also that most of the big before the close of the last session of Congress he said: are applied, as far as possible, to the whol this country have joined the Federal “The further extension of credit control which must fol- There are branch-system heads who it with large resources. But in any low the extension of branch banking in our large cities will degree of centralization, as in Canada. It nch idea fear lest too much power inevitably result in some man, or group of men, unfitted way. Others do not dare venture beyon centralization would be too unpopul head offices in San Fra Los Angeles, the The Temptation of Great Power local president ir erase parent ra ( nds of a few men. What is to pre- for its exercise, securing and misusing enormous power. I fear from do not want to see the great banks of America faced with others, though recognizing the theoretical accept i ng, as they do, everywhere, that which the great life-insurance companies were faced centralization, are sacrificing it with in 1906. Banking is suffi- that the American people have always ciently powerful today. In the power more than other nationalities. One head offic ng state governments, as the railroads d unregenerate days? nt men that are in ating in the guise search for greater power some a vice president who goes around from bran¢ men are endangering the whole helping to build up decentralized credit ing control of the ai x ow are thou- structure.” as far as possible the number of re} Five or six men dominate the sent to the head office. branch banks of California, and It is difficult for an outsider to see hoy their opponents ask what will succeed in the long run unless they happen with continuedexpansion. communities. Certainly this cannot be accomp! “It is never safe to concentrate less the branch managers know their communiti in as close touch as the presidents of the independent yranches so examined he safe ty of power in too few hands,” they ““Should a handful of men _ banks. This, afterall, isa question of per argue t t right man for the job Sa) nat act ‘community is to pick th

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Even the heads of branch systems sometimes express their doubt whether the right sort of men car be found when the present type of branch manager, for the part a former independent banker, retires and it becomes ry to If the head offices most more necess: promote juniors cannot find the men, these fears will prove well founded; branch banking will then fall of its own weight gut the problem does not differ from any other large business; all f them are forced to find personnel Young juniors trained first in the branches, then in the head office, and nally sent back to the branches, ought to make good managers The middle-aged business man always views with alarm + , * } + . . ld” ‘ he unhappy day when the fifty-five-year-old id of a concern doe and one of with which he s business steps out, old But year-old will be considerably more ma- the thirty-five-year juniors steps up. he forgets that the thir ture by then, and that a whole new generation of custom- ers will have grown up But, return no tc ing t » the main thread of our narrative, it is a fallacy to suppose that a man must live in a town twenty or thirty years to understand it or operate successfully hereir A local organization is a question of personality, not of the number of years a man has vegetated in one place An Arizona banker, wholly unfamiliar with California conditions, was placed in charge in what we shall call It is doubtful if he ver been there for more than Yet within eighteen months he was president of the Greater Bonica Beach Club and a leader in the community. The writer has visited nu- merous communities in different parts of the country zens included tl of a branct Bonica Beach nad € a few hours before. where the group of leading citi- 1e manager of the state or regional power and light company, the local railroad representatives and en managers of chain stores. If such men have the per- nality, as they often have, they quickly become active club and other civic is a lot of bunk in the idea that a man must hamber of commerce, service There yrever in a place to be a useful citizen. Ready to Fill the Breach T IS commonly assumed in the arguments against branch banking that the local unit banker has grown up with the community and has practically always been identified with it. But branch banking has thrived most in cities like New York most of the peo} le, ine TI ere and Detroit and a state like California, where luding the bankers, are new anyway. are said to be places in California where the branch man- agers are older residents than the Mans t banks change officers of the unit bank of the smaller uni hands so often that it is imy sible for their opera tors to have grown up with the piace We need not be- ome panicky lest all THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the ndependent commu banks of the country be run out of business in the near fut even tnoug! tne okesn refer to the I able flict It said th the way NI the branch | and the init’ bar ux exist de t aie Ss to emulate ne lamb and the wolf, with the lan But chain store nave not elin independent merchants In the way, even in California, there are many hundreds o banks. Indeed, when a | ‘ { nstitution bu ou local unit, one or two new unit ire olter tarted to take its place At least one of the branch banks in California, eithe through its head office or its larger branches, acts as cor respondent for independents in the very locality where it has branches of its own Fifteen small independent Danks in the mmediate ounts in cinity of the agricultural city of Fresno carry ac a Los Angeles institution which has branches in Fresno it self. Paper is rediscounted real estate loans are as before the branches existed Il have been told repeate by the higher officials of bot California and Easterr t branch ba Ss, that the prob lems of organization involved in taking over ft fty or a hundred units are simply colossal Ever after as long a period as five years these problems still require the most intense ap] licatior More than that tne large Dar atte a i ind ever scornfully among themselves as to how branches should be operated It takes ability of the highest order and unceasing eff« to attain in practice the economies w h in theory should go with branch banking. Mere legal authority to oper branches does not keep them in profitable existence. To make an innovation of this sort work well requires bold able men. Then, too, though many ol! the t yusands of smal I dependent unit banks are badly run, there are always a few so efficiently managed that competition with them is extremely difficult Edward L. Howe, one-time president of the New Jerse Bankers Association, and a member of the special currer commission of the American Bankers Association whicl conferred with Congress in the preparation of the Federal Reserve Act, tells of a conversation he id with the late ae. G& most . iS la save that he | ove “uve stock of the other ventures “Too mar a power con tion besides of one, and « n our bar Competition Too Great for Monopoly a jues mous size Inste prices and |: so complete nterest, A few nor aq ‘ mor Mono; arge ly ar ce } \ + a gorously thar much at least the tou five regards its ow We know furt ng tends to g four to six —ba or upatior a i little sympathy) though part of the bank to another } + ry large and powe

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 FOR THek BEST Her Eyes Fiashed. ‘“‘My Father and I,’’ She Said, ‘“Despise You Utterly’’ By Clarence Budingtom Kelllamd _ tian 1AM Ezg2ezsz “T alway JS TRATED BY weit tees were linotype operator, and you are elevated get the idea. May I ask what and appurtenances of foreman of the and what it would have done composing room He . : ‘What fur?” asked Jake rtainment comm , With an evil 1lOOK arply, printer's ‘To help administer the second pill,’ said Don printed —for an entertainment, expression. ‘Who to?”’ ‘We are equipped te vice, “when I ever ‘Sugar Hollow It’s convalescing with one edition a entertainment committees iny beat of him.’ week. On the first of the month we a j ed out yestiddy?”’ yearning world wit} ssuage the ache of a She tossed a sheet of p two editions Tuesday and Friday red, and have then ““Ye’ll go bust,”’ said Jake; “jest when we was doin’ j irsday morning so nice too.” T Don's ‘You're ar = dly, ‘‘it ff half “I hain’t,”’ losophical TI nd of hotel. We got there's one to the g ‘There’s a makes the fi Don, ‘* betweer n you go ar newlangied “Git Out!’’ Said the Sheriff ‘We're Busy"’

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST she said, “‘despise even sufficiently an ! ta If " ! ' who sells his honesty and his independence tor the yunt him t prir A 1 be "y ‘ , “there was a girl wl imped ata g . \ the D plair he said } y t ‘ nds of money out of that court ise gang there Hleg r never a word of crit m of them in your paper alled an auton e and drove to the ‘Is the courthouse bad é 4 ‘ A ‘ ura ‘ t ¢ I nurt amazement natu lor him t irop into the pr ile “You know they are unspeakable. You know they a x. Big-Foot Mosher slouched outside the bringing in liquor from Canada, and my father told you nating a guardian angel, but he ntent iboutdrugs. They are utterly dishonest and unscru} 1 wling balefu it Don, wl mile n Another ‘utterly,’”’ said Dor “Do you mear all of them?”’ “3 very one “Say what you will about me,” he said virtuously, “‘I ever went to a dance on Tuesday night with one of them she demanded ‘I thought--1 only; thought I saw a young lady going to tl | witr Prosecutor Ellswortl “You are impertinent, e said. ‘“‘ Mr. Ellsworth is t like Sheriff Fox and yere NDable together ] e never been babies together with anybod y idon't Ippose we ould vO ilew ears and do 10 ou He ghea 8) to bea child again at mother’s knee! I came here on a busi- f errand snesaid not be made fun ol! t or goes to prove, e said, ‘“‘that the loftiest tentions sometimes lead into the most maligr ounding suc! ne ntinued Ss the I ol ( May t ne ak it anda e never knew what an el t ne made to ilt na dignified and to ng out at nim ist T iy pe ou wont be So mart Ale« when the new iper get started!” Upon which, and _ before he could frame a rejoinder, ne turned and was gone rough the open door. Don executed a noyis! g mace he peered ifte ner Now he said to himself ‘ t it gentie repartee was It based on private matior Dor ed to do his thir an ae ng while he talked It has een Sald that his conver ‘Tl Kin Run My Own Business,’’ Said Mr. Malloy. ‘‘True,’’ Said Don But What~— T? Burning Question What is Your Business?’

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 6 O88.) © & + Bi dercrcreeleledeines B: ON Pa2s& TO RH ““Chartey, You're Sick!’ She Cried pair of “it pearls. “‘Oh, you darling!’ she squealed Dropping the box, she seized him by his mop of tousled hair and dragged down his head to hers. ‘‘ You darling! You perfec Yes, but just 3 wait till you get downstairs,’”” mum- bled Charley wnstairs? She could not dream what he _ incredibly meant. “Just you wait!’’ he repeated. ten thousand dollars or It was a car he had bought for her—a small, snappy sertha now remembered \ he d for her Peet what when went down. Tears welled into Berth: money port roa r. The car was waiting at t ] 1 speak for a while There was a swellings pari in her throat, and both the new roadster and Ch: for a moment blurred. Only a man of ve done athing like that. Onl done it so boyishly and naiv +} and ere was no temperamental! lism to obs “e that o r moment

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= ” ° Q, Oo z 2 ee] > wy ~ & Q m& ~ bn & Y ~ x ™

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 SAT U. DAY who sent Mr. Mellon his Liberty Bonds could feel that may do all the housework in most economical fa m. Th 7 fel : he had followed the dictates of conscience just as loyally another she may be too ill to move, with hired help provi: 7 is his richer colleagues who had made contributions rur expensive and wasteful The more t} plan is studied, the greater its po tie 1 ind I es about x ‘ ‘ ppear to be In the f St place t would l ite tlor mer \ rY ent « I l for mere talk. It would be a definite step forward toward payment of ext: to men ¥ 1 t the goal of the cancellationists. But that is not a It the differential being met by the industry as a wl nearty adoption and execution would exert a tremendous is not to penalize the employer wit many tather r moral effect establishment It would free some of our bankers from the nharge tnat TI may seem a rather advanced suggestior But t the or cance itior I yrrder that tne ma\ ive me m me whe need a K I etitive n her field for the flotation of profitable private loreigr ilue will pla some part in hixing wage ind Il me ans It would afford conclusive proof of the unselfis} . ety as yet cannot meet all need erhaps it neve - om i lealism of the policy they have been preaching But wages and incomes are rising The workmar ! ¥ OUNDED AS D: 72 8 Che nearty odperation of ‘oll f fa uities In this move mu nterested n t idy ng a lecent ib tenc fan ment would restore ome lost dignity and prest ve to t! idget if he an make more thar PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY : ; y adem world Deservedly or undeservedly ollege inother group where incomes are mu irger THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY professors as a ¢lass have been brought under a cloud If a budget teaches the right us ne’s incom the injudicious dabbling in fore INDEPENDENCE SQUARE mall but emotional minority in their ranks. Here is the 1 Se PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA, U.S.A y GEORGE HORACE LORIMER, EDITOR own initiative begin the cancellation of war debts by turn- for millions in this country ther ees te g out the contents of their safety-deposit boxe tne . ted pe I east \ i A f i - ce ompel the respect ol a tne ountrymen, even thoug! r r est satisfied with n n t g 1B Chile, Colombia they may fail to get them to follow their example It uur boast, our hope y i ( sla, Haiti, Isle of ‘ ; 5, Paraguay Fortunately Liberty Bonds are almost as easy to buy a N onposses tomers as Many bonds as they care to turn i Nothing this time because of wid can check the headway of this great popu movemer C,overnme to ex t | I t t really has the widespread support which the cancellatior mir ty stockholders of the Ford Mot Com sts claim for their policy as the small boy gapes at tl irgest « PHILADELPHIA, JUNE l11, 1927 = [he crowning merit of this plan is that it instantly re W 1” in a circu » the Ame 4 marve t duces the whole vexed and intricate question of war-debt naire It i lite € 1 : . settlement to the curt but clean-cut formula Put up or Comparative ew expr yn tm A Cancellation Plan : ; snut up very bond would be a ote and every vote ire heard: the mmon feeling m ‘ ’ on , wouk measured will in terms of Liberty What could be simpler? What could be fairer? reasonable ertainty that | Bonds time m: ya gue n enormou yy B - s The Budget Craze NE of the more favored and moderr naoor s} t It iter 1 tnat not I tne itl ma erection of family budget sy a sort of patent mulatior f lesse t operation a lot ol imphant r 1 resul ly, usually described as being of the working 3 ea have v st irds ‘ y posed to live upon. This budget then goes through a Nowhere are the inequalitis y mar I mysterious process of sanctifi ( n the minds of its creators becomes somehow established hick Vi ore tirness, these gentlemen should be al- Any family getting less than the budget estimate the Is there a recognized point where inequalit eases t to their ideas in such a manner that victim of capitalistic oppression; any family getting more defensible and becomes gross or n evou tw d rece fu edit for their sacrifice and be presumably, is considered as not being in good form so long ago that many people doubted whether a m that the ourted notoriety by These family budgets serve the valuable purpose of dollar yuld be made honestly. Too many pe Is a eX e of the fellow xpayers giving work to deserving young masters of art r doctors the possibility of making that mucl r the gu than at the wn proper cost of philosophy in sociology and economics. But Professor as popular as was once the case ihe tact must not be lost sight of that cancellation by Bowley, in a recent investigation of the income four In the main. fortunes th intr seem t nment LCL on{ ition of American bonds for thousand families in five English industrial towr found been wor men who gave more than the nefit of pe k init the debtors pay, the that of the total number studied only five per cent were the the billionaire piles are the outgrowt f su isefu nu e taxed to pa ind the creditors are Amer o-called standard or typical nam¢ 1 fam tie 1 itable benefit nd tu ind taxpayt in which there is an employed husband with wife and motor car rt prope we ng to M Mellon’s attention is tl at three children dependent Ipon him, and with no other Hundred of great fortune et it be known that the Treasury Department will ac- members wealth their maker reated, ar berty Bonds from all who care to turn them in, and How can there be a ard or t al fan ommon wealt} mediat er e principal account of standard, typical budget for such a family? There are Students like Sir Josiah Stan ind Doct Da ate ve ieHto ition the sender may indicate If we families in which all the members work—husband, wife } work on the inequality of income and children. There are many families without any cl ire more affected by compar to dren, or with only one or two. There are many othe r man would rather have a large eo mall cake y é which elderly parents or other relatives either drain all the small slice of a large cake, even t ig} e latte d shut out no one. earnings of husband and wife or add immeasura to receives a greater cubic conte i ealt r e fairly named, could’ them. There are hundreds of varieties, combinations and But as Sir Josiah says, any sense of inju alue of hundreds of permutations, each of which has its separate financial tion based upon this attitude mind Lv oor mé l I ‘ USES W h have committed problem ure of actual econon welfare. In other w is, are W t t nee t 7 uld river “ve t} y le , ]l lavont fy nhere gaint tter ‘7 th hich tannAara f no - +} » ins itio would be given ven with an identical layout of numbers ga lily en better olf with hig standard ) t é ug oyed and numbers dependent, two families may have be great fortunes to en\ than wit ause Ol er +t y y f - + ; rea? ’ difierent financial needs i ela Ly “ gene

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CAPTIOUS COLUMBUSIES

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 SHORT TURNS ANID EINCOR icNab and mis Neighbors oft = | iv) A.) 6 | eee 1 ij ¢ apres ats me : saeniitibteentia a MecN« lll Trade a Much Bigger Bone “Ye Will? Weel, Take it, an’ Bring ‘Come With Meand I'll Show You “Bull McGraw There Has it—He Just he One You Have There"’ On the Big One!’"’ Where it Is! Took it Away From Me!"* H Telling Line AH Barber-Shop Ballad j * 4 ie? a h, WAR AY Ay F ‘ Oeste h GARDE~ ome, Come, Jimmy! Don't Waste All Day and Disrupt “And What's More, We'll Stay Here Until We Find the Entire Office Looking for a Dollar Jackknife’’ That Ball if it Takes Ail Day’’ If it Goes Much Farther her smooth rout knees second to none in the lives of m » Ar YENTLEMEN of the iry, aside [rom the legal as gentiemen, shut uur eyes ar a +t tion for th nomen \] J a s of tne case, turn vour attentio ( e moment Continued on Page If If This Neck:«Lengthening Fad of the After a Trip to the Attic. His Wife ‘You’re Always Talking About the Fashion Artists Continues Good Old Days, So I Thought I'd Show ’'Em to Y«

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Vary the soups you serve! ls i 2 cents a can SOMO RMSZO 7 $ [ © ONE arise Y Ie pve

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 L OQSz lg CS USl SW By Mary Roberts Rinehart TLCLUSTRATEDO BY w. H. D. K OE RNER And it Was Then That She Said Something That Roused His Pity forthe First Time. **‘Do You Think She Should See Me—Like This?’"’ XXXVIT Continued on Page 36

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST S Wilk OT ARS O A little more than 50 Cape Cod was the entire years ago this bu: Swift plant. It supplied It provided only market for the live-stock raisers in its imme Iding or 187 only the needs of local consumers diate vicinity OOD S In one man’s lifetime ORE THAN 50 years ago G. F Swift bought a calf, dressed it himself, and sold the meat from a covered wagon in Barnstable, Mass. From this humble beginning has developed the great organization owned by more than 47,000 shareholders—Swift & Company. This growth has been the natural result perform the even more difficult task of reach- ing every available market with the meat and by-products. thinly over It is only by spreading surpluses this whole country and abroad that prices are maintained on a plane. Distribution the an organization which sets perishables. fairly test handle even iS supreme of out to of a well defined need for large-scale handling Swift & Company has been handling of the meat supply. perishables for fifty years and has This need calls for meat dressing, C2 attained a large experience and handling, and curing facilities ade- \ Lo = developed an unrivaled organizati quate to furnish a cash market peo OLY iy for this service. It is significant even for over-supplies of live stock. In addition it calls for the ability to that the expense of this service to consumers has steadily declined Swift & Company thar Owned by more

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

enc FRETEE fey 06) Thebes BLEVYUTELE AUT | id

rad i aa % d ; + : e pga a] Se ; - > | V4 ¢ CAN THIS BE SAID OF ANY CAR BUT La SALLE? ] 1] | Th, La Oalle ts selicnn a 2 | | ] i - to race-drivers ane to debutantes—<to ov ners ol LOU and obo UU ¢

j 1 — to thre speed wicled — 1 by iuty-isistent. Sponsored = a quarter-century ol Lad i perlormance., Warranted by the CX PCEPICHes ol ) 50,000 Cadilla P. I d | y ti YU) gre V-ty po he eviiaaes engine Priced bo ver than iny car ¢ FOR A SMALL DOWN PAYMENT-— aan re G Mat | ( _ G. M.A. t CADILLAC MOTOR CAR COMPANY LA SALLE

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aS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 | | EW Hy EAUTY bee your home added leisure tor yourself | GUARANTEE SATISFACTION GUARANTEED — : — Rie Beem e nt OR YOUR MONEY BACK ) + 4 a rm ae a = Ly m - ss ; wa 5 ee om, 7 4 REMOVE SEAL WITH PDN DENIED EXEL RINDI, Ny EF eT =, Sit ver oce _ lt that practi . ver\ \ the Nes 1 > . £ es 1 hea tan . - rat try va / \rt R nts th insw ( 1 time. No hat veeping. No b I u ) nN ” - . ; i} () vif \t \ \ uN \ ! t if If 1 Hi g \ } \n 1 S pt | ! The Sec ¢ ( Dor t ) Color M Genuine ¢ \rt-R WAY n G , aAvee \\ va R It pl Sa Guara i i \ t t y ul VI Ba | | VE ha ly I (; (ONGOLEUM pepe: : GOLD SEAL Art-RuGs

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST \ SV és 445 THE ZEPPELINS 2sS30 88 WAS in September, 1916, that I t ] Ove London with twelve ‘ 7 action ft the arn and na t I ng net id impre ea rie ‘ ir earlier flight Chere were 1 ts and a host of batteries wit etter gu Most important of all. the a iné ‘ i es ol men and mate i nat ng their night flying, and from the strong attacks during ar ttoi ihe Kngiis planes were ¢ pped wit A pit incendiary bullets at the Ze; er! igh to cross their pat! The nada the hey could attack at an airshi jut the British was almost impossible for their pilots to } the dark. They were dependent upon sear en with their small machines tl ey could | the airship crew until on the verge an attack. The chances of be ing first secure a decisive hit were unedl en could be flown in se to tne airs! p before the Zep; ns machine guns covered it effectually, and e Zeppelin, being easily a hundred me arger in vulnerable area than a ne. ¥v was a simple target. Chis new aerial defense was not c + ] l. " d to London. Planes were main- ned everywhere on the British east t and also in special patrols at Nieuport and Dunkirk to intercept the / } 1 ng the B sloiay t ‘ pit ~ Passins Hit eiPian COast he morning. We had to be v . rela and make every eflort Lo ‘n home before dawn. The LZ SS, was only a 1,000,000-cubic-feet ind therefore unable to fly higher ! the enemy planes, had been at- Hide and Seek in the ¢ uu ‘ {1 on her return from a raid. By e best of luck she managed to dive f low-lying clouds ss ‘ ; ee . ‘i ; : ( ) e ne yt ( 1 thus shake off the machines. The o a long bank of 50.000 more cul The LZ-120 During the 101 Hours’ Flight 0, ore cubic ‘ eet of gas, was able to ascend 13,000 - nti eet above her crew were delighted to find nade te ¢ ment A r ! I é t the | ild not re that ! t i , ; ' Dangerous Defense Work dk the night pursuits of the Zeppelir ‘ ( led TMHE reason why relatively few airships were t dowr ar ve usua ed d est nights. wit ttered twenty 1 | from planes during the latter phase of the war layin the — clou ! ! , that the ships were constantly developed until they | ‘ age ssed the English planes. The ppelins were g 1 . , : rought to a stage where they 1, and eve mv LZ-9 ‘Eee higher than the heavier-than-alr machines 7 n,t the Le endurance of both ines and pilots = was limited. The 1 ? ould remalr ei t a yn lor ‘ ré ods, ever SO ng as erefore i ane ieit tne ground too ¢ the nances were + at te g soline supply would be exhausted — before 4 to grips with the ir rT. | t was Kept too ng onthe ground elore flying ip to the attack, tne Zeppelin was well O i rangebyt il ne time they gained s aititude to strike It was also dan- gerous for an Eng- pilot to fly the t of The L-59, the African Ih

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 A sensible reason for your success ms i a Bi’ | ae i ? i} j i 4 ; Sa ee ee Lubricating Oils for Plant Lubrication er ¢ | a | | 4 ; ROMINENT engineers assert that the effec- tive life of machine equipment, by proper at- tention, can be extended one month for each year of service. Many say this annual saving of one- cw elfth is far COO CONServative an estimate. Correct oil correctly applied is the remedy for The same remedy will forestall the causes of most engine and ma- the chief cause of deterioration chine repairs, with consequent production inter ruptions, and will reduce power costs OU naturally expect some com- petition based on substitution and cut prices. The imitator always stalks on the trail of established Successes. To meet price competition even your salesmen may ask for lower prices, but they would be unwilling to make quality concessions to obtain them. You have traveled your set course too long to be induced to swerve. This policy in your business un- doubtedly is fixed. It has carried our business to its acknowledged world- wide leadership in the field of lubrication. What effective lubrication will do to help any quality minded We stand ready manufacturer to establish and maintain a high standard of lubricating eficiency throughout his plant After our oils are installed our enginecring staff coéperates with the plant personnel to check up results and, wherever possible, to better them Our oils and our lubrication counsel, which are used by manufacturers of quality products through out the world, are at your service. acuum Oil Company Headquarters: 61 BROADWAY, NEW YORK Branches and distributing warehouses throughout the country

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST IFIR=IR=JRONT & Py Helen Christine Be 2

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Page 44

That's where the breaks come in.”’ They said it laugh- ese thorough sportsmer man, now, who rings for ice water. There are te ery city that have no circulating ice water nd the bell boy supplies this. A man rings and the Front we He gets to the room and there, outside in the 4 é he tuck out on the rug. He has to fill the rafe « tcl or whatever it is and go back to Last, even a chance at a tip. . . Do that? Of ( f do that. And more. One day I roomed a guesf a there was a quarter on the bureau for the room I did carried the bags in, took the maid. J had to do my stuff, but I saw the quarter things that are my job nd from the closet and set them on it, opened the put on the lights, opened the bathroom and saw were towels and soap—and turned to ask the man if there was anything.else that I could do for him is the regulation thing, understand? Well, the quarter as in plain sight when we came in, but by then it was gone. And the man put his hand in his pocket and handed He was a dime in, the chambermaid was me tT ftee n cents ly. Chiseler!”’ out entire When the Buck Won’t Pass r IS a term used only of one utterly beyond the pale. Chiselers or gougers are men who not only refuse to tip but vho manage somehow to trim someone. The bell boy is ady for them and it becomes a battle of wits as to who One boy, rooming a guest, saw an envelope on iccee ie | au. He glanced at it, saw a written line in pencil: For the maid,’’ and knew by the appearance of the enve e that it contained bills. He went into the bath- oom to turn on the lights and when he returned, the envelope had disappeared. When he had finished his work he hesitated There was an envelope for the maid here the bureau,” he said. “‘I promised to bring it to her. Tyid ” +9 ou see it! ’ assented the guest. “I—I thought I'd hand to her myself ‘Well,’ said the boy with determination, “‘she’s waiting out there for me and I'd better take it That brought the elope out of the guest’s | et, and the boy went out triumphant, to give the en- lope to the surprised maid, f sing to accept a penny of THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The code of the bell boy is strict. The guest is his legitimate business, his pals are protected. The who take chances usurping the place of the boy occasional ‘‘wolves’’ among the bell boys, next on the wheel, rushin g ahead ina lobby to seize upon a guest, are frowned upon not only by the management but by the boys themselves, and retaliation is sharp and severe. the guest are equally contemptible. The boy who “wolfs”’ and who ‘chisels,”’ Searcely less so in the eyes of the bell boy are the guests who forget to tip. Sometimes they really do forget. ‘‘A man who is called the $20,000 deal may run to it and forget you, but on phone on a he will remember afterwards and you know he will make it up to you. later fellow who is always talking about seeing you later and never does. And some men get their wives to do it for them. You will start to show a lady and gent to a room, and he'll stop at the elevator and say, ‘You go up; and I've got to attend to something’; and when she is settled she will say, ‘My husband will see you later’—which he don’t. Many a guest we show to a room walks into the bathroom and shuts He isn’t the see-you- the door and, of course, we have to go back to the desk. “Then another kind of fellow when he registers, ‘Here, boy, take up my bags. I'll be right up.’ I goes up and he beats it out the side door and comes back in an hour.”’ Good bell boys are made, not born. Most of them uate from the ranks of page boys your name about the lobbies and dining rooms. says, grad- the real boys who call A page boy becomes a bell boy when business is heavy, and so n most first- breaks in. He passes a severe training, which class hotels is followed day after day with military pre- cision. For the morning shift, which begins in most places at seven, he reports at 6:30 in the bell boys’ room down- stairs or the back hall, gets into his uniform and has his and looks himself over. He spection. With the ift, he will line up in shoes shined or rubs them up, is about to face in other boys on this st single file and pass be fore his captain and the superintendent of service. Hair, skin, hands, shoes and uniform are critical] looked over. Then, in some hotels, thers is delivered a little the particular house, con: lecture on the rules of what to do and what not to ‘* They Took Two Boys to Room Them and the Man Handed Out a Quarter and Said, ‘There, Split That Between You ay, **‘Well, We Ain't Allowed to Look What is But I Goes Off to a Corner warm heart. Under his shrewd ey¢ bays work gladly because special cor ditions obtain. Ambition is fostered If a boy is a good worker and wants ar education, night s hool or day, tl superintendent arranges his hours Given Us, working under hin One elevator mar 1g ! to See” goes to Columbia Universit and sent off at two P. M. so that he car s classes A worked three months, yesterday made attend hi sixteen-y hours off to take a course at high school Luggage Carries the Big Tip June 11,1927 He is made to pull out from his |} pocket the small tray w hon olds and t way in his coat t the let | functior } e€ pre ¢ ndtow T whe vu ‘ At » hatale ¢ t ect tow mme ¢ ¢ y e De « we as ‘ , ‘ Oo nuate T ive to give se ewhetherthey get money or t. In these hotels they take are of the boys’ uniforms f nothing anda the boys don't ay the bell captair here is one superinter ent of service known to be boys far and near as a mighty parti lar man to work for, but one with a FTER inspection and the morning lecture the bell boy goes into the lobby. He is then on service and |} nr act is to welcome tne guest and wnat ne arrile with hin It used to he called *“ baggage ** but now no self-respect bell boy knows of anything but iggage he thir before he speaks ‘Luggage”’ it then, and the term covers a range of objects wide and 1 Lu I thing a guest brings with him that a bell boy may hope t carry. It is the backbone of the industry, the mainst ( ll DOY ’s earnings. {ooming the guest is the bell boy first and most mportant duty and ming tnat the luggage is carried. This duty ordir gs the f t of the guest’s stay but } ir! eT ortant y Continued on Page 44 Ne Ow

Page 45

SATURDAY EVENING POST ummer lime is ew Car lime- Enjoy a Buick Vow- So many things to do,so many places ioned, properly-tilted seats, and to go, so much fun for the whole cantilever springs add to riding family this summer—zin a Buick. comfort é } ‘ At { But 1) “rorn 1) il] 1 im) This is the logical time of year to ad Buick performance Will win buy a car—at the beginning of its your heart. The Buick Six-Cylinder 1 iT) ik, TY . ; period of greatest enjoyment. And Valve-in-Head | . tbr ale Buick 1s the logical car to buy, b yond belzef. \t develops more power cause it will provide the greatest usc for its size than any other automo ‘aii ee fulness with the greatest CCONOM\ - om Pine, ana gYreates Pee tila ! t ve driver ever uses Its Fisher Bodies win admiring ] ] ] S I 1dr om | > de v 1 I I glances from every sidc rOr tneir : I S ] rat your earl: pportunity beauty, stvle and smart Duco colors : te CO} cunit Buick fittings and upholsterics exem- kK MOTO MPAN plity the utmost luxury. Soft-cush- WHEN BETTER ,tI TOMO BUICK W BI \ UY AW YGy-22 Zz

Page 46

Continued from Page 42 if the boy tackle, s, cats, dogs and babies them bags, fishing . bows and arrows, snow shoes, tennis in addition to the ordinary burdens yags, valises, suitcases, hat boxes, golf s and parcels. guests traveling, English parties carry the most luggage. n an English party leaves home,” confided one bell boy of seventeen years’ take everything with I’ve roomed Of all “+ “they them but the River Thames. to six, and honest, no foolin’, i party of four they’d have six to eight trunks, ten to twelve suitcases, includin’ carryalls and hat boxes. And heavy—whew, you’d hink they had a library in them! And they ain’t what you'd call hearty tippers either. I had a man and woman in lately who ‘brought eight bags and boxes, and heavy ones. They took two boys to room them and the man handed out a quarter and said, ‘There, split that between you!’”’ But handle an Englishman right,’ 1dded another veteran, ‘“‘and you won’t ome out so bad at that. You see, they are ised to servants, and they don’t have to over there, and they can’t accustomed to American ways If you have patience you can get pay much ilways get t fret through with them and not fare bad. I take an Englishman to his room and ask him nicely if he is familiar with the city and an I do anything for him. And likely as ing him the taxi rates, and Wail Street is, and I say that we have Subways by which he can get there quicker than a taxi and at less charge, if he I tell him of our information and add that I know the city well ill be glad to give him any special I also warn him to ask direc- ot I'm notin next tell whe re information. tions of a policeman—this for his own pro- tection. And J get nothing for all this then. But when he leaves for good, he will send for me. I’ve been doing more or less for him all the time and he’ll leave me a five- dollar bill. With the English you need a 1 ” litt.e patience, An American Summer Resort South Americans and Cubans also bring large quantities of luggage. They usually ome in parties and they never come in d her. Get a Cuban or a South Ame here when he has to wear an and he takes the first steamer out The party will often include the maids, the children, the baby and the baby’s ice box to overcoat keep the baby’s milk right. Like the Eng- lish, they when they leave. In New York City there has come to be a heavy ‘-tourist trade of South Americans a who look on the city as a summer resort, and find it entertaining, cool and comfortable, while its citizens flee heat to the mountains and sea. In a number of the leading hotels in New York one-fifth of the summer guests are America or Cuba. For them are provided special bell boys, who do ordinary work in winter, but who be- interpreters to these guests in sum- are usually Cubans or South Americans who speak both Spanish 1. They welcome summer as a ison. umme from it: about from South tnere mer. Such boys and Engli well-paid se “These people stay in the best suites,” Cuban, “‘and they tip more American. They give half a dollar or a dollar for any call, and they give a specia! tip when they leave. They, of course, demand a good deal of service. I’ve gone*to shops and acted as interpreter for all kinds of purchases, and said a young than the average I’ve put through many a business deal, going along with the man concerned or talking over the phone. I had one man who was a wonderful guest. He owned a huge sugar plantation and came here partly on business and partly for pleasure. When anyone called him on the phone he sent for me. I never got less than five dollars for interpreting a phone conversation, and if it was a ten. The last year I helped him a good deal and when he bass | } business deal] I got THE SATURDAY left he gave me my biggest tip—one hun- dred and fifty dollars.” From these heavy-luggage carriers to the guest with no luggage is a long step, but the guest without luggage is welcome! In most cases he would not dare to arrive without luggage unless known to the man- agement, or unless he intends to pay in advance. The pay-in-advance man is always a good tipper; he is uncertain of his standing at the hotel and he eases his way with ready coin. And if he is sufficiently known to the management to stay without luggage and without advance payment, nine times out of ten he is a person of sub- stance who can be counted upon to treat a bell boy well. Guests Traveling Light No fear need enter the mind of the trav- eler who is the victim of an accident and has lost his luggage, or the utter stranger who for some reason arrives without luggage and is unknown, and must therefore pay in advance. No bell boy will look upon him with scorn. Indeed he is an excellent pros- pect, for he may ask the boy to go out and buy him a razor, toothbrush and paste, and night ciothes—even a shirt and collar for the morrow—and a good tip is at least vis- ible in forecast. Likewise the bell boy has a welcome smile for the carrier of ordinary luggage—for the man or woman who brings suitcase, valise or hat box. You may be careless as to your luggage. You may carry practically any kind you matters not. It may or may not be expensive, although, all things con- sidered, a good bag gets more attention. When the luggage is carried into the hotel from taxis or busses, it is put into the lobby and remains there until every guest has identified his own bags. This is vital. It is a hotel ruling, and bell boys may not carry a bag to a room until the guest has identified it. Despite all care, mistakes will occur. Only a few days ago one of the leading hotels of the country suffered a severe shock. An arriving guest picked out a suitcase as his, was escorted to his room and left there. A few minutes later the room clerk came to the bell-boy captain. “*Where’s the boy that roomed 840?” he demanded. The boy was located and went up to the guest, together with the captain and the room clerk. They went in, the door was closed and, with a dramatic gesture, the guest opened the suitcase. There lay a portfolio, a cap, two guns and a black silk handkerchief—these in plain sight. The guest wanted the case out of his room at once, and so it was closed and taken to the office, where it was examined more care- choose; it fully. The guns were fully loaded. The case contained little besides the things mentioned and two newspapers, which were carefully examined, with a view to finding a clew to the proposed business Nothing significant was found. The two men who brought the suitcase were lo- cated, but when their room was entered they had gone and the mistaken suitcase had been left in the closet. Lightweight bags, when carried by men, are objects of suspicion. “Women’s clothes don’t weigh much nowadays and we don’t figure on weight from them, but we are asked by the man- agement to watch for light bags and report them to the room clerk. Not that it means anything—many a time I’ve toted a heavy bag filled with two telephone books! Beats? Of course. Sign the register and live a few days at the hotel on the strength of a heavy bag. Leave and you find the telephone books or a couple of bricks wrapped in paper. The newest trick is ice. He wraps a chunk of ice in thick layers of newspaper and puts it in his bag. We carry it up, he puts the ice in the bathtub, keeps the papers and carries them out when he goes. No evidence—the ice melted. “When the hotel thinks a guy’s a beat, it sends the house detective to the room to feel how heavy his luggage is. Beats will carry out their clothing little by little. One man staying quite a time had a big trunk. EVENING POST He ran a bill of some size and the manager sent the house officer to see to his trunk It was locked, of course, and the officer tried to lift it. He couldn’t. He went to the manager. “*That room’s all right,’ he said. ‘The trunk is so heavy I can’t lift it.’ The fel- low went out that night and did not re- turn. When the trunk was opened, it was empty and nailed to the floor! No wonder it couldn’t be lifted. “For us, those men are ali right! Sure, they tip well. Give you a half dollar for taking up their two telephone books or their cake of ice.” When a traveler enters a hotel the bell boy’s eye is upon him, and that observing eye at once classifies him and puts him in his proper place in the scheme of things. “T know any man when he comes in the door. If I don’t get him then, I do before he’s finished with the room clerk. I know what he’s goin’ to give me. I can tell every time.” It has a magniloquent ring, but it is no empty boast. Even if there is an occasional failure, the bell boy’s powers of observa- tion are trained to their utmost and he can, in ninety cases out of a hundred, size up a guest, from the tipping standpoint, with accuracy. World travelers may be sur- prised to learn that in every experienced bell boy’s memory are catalogued the na- tions of the world in a novel listing—one far removed from geographical impor- tance, strength of population, industries or armies—namely, the tipping value of the inhabitants. It is a list that forms the sub- ject of much conjecture among bell boys. Often they reason upon it, and draw some friendly and logical conclusions. The list- ing seems to suffer little change with the passage of years; national values remain constant, although individuals of any na- tion may prove exceptions. In every case there may be men who decline to follow national habits, and run out of form, fol- lowing a tipping system of their own. But the standard list runs in this way, together with the standard comment: h Americans—fine. free with money. Spanis They are rich and Germans— good, Er glish poor. Scotch—very poor. Canada~—fair. They are nice, sociable people and always speak to you ir the morr ist haven't got much mone} se —fine. Every bell b ymes in the door. » good, best on earth. Americans Then follows the geographical index of the relative tipping values of Americans York City best tippers in countr Chicago—good, but not so good New York. Kansas City Cleveland . Toledo Good. Cincinnati Philadelphia—fair to poor, and very ur sociable; don’t notice a boy We call a nickel to a dime a Boston poor. ‘*Boston quarter."’ New England—poor California—good. Westerners in general good. Florida—poor. You'd think people from Miami would be great, wouldn't you? They ain't. The South in general—poor. Portrait of a Lady From bell boys who have worked at Washington, D. C., one may obtain a rough classification as to the relative tip- ping values of our Presidents and distin- guished foreign visitors. President Calles of Mexico is rated as good, General Diaz as fine. Marshal Foch and ex-Premier Briand here reverse the listing of their country and are recorded as all right. ‘President Harding was easy to please,”’ said a boy who has waited on two of our Presidents. ‘‘I took care of his room and he gave me a dollar for everything. And Mrs. Harding was a nice lady. I kept the dollars for years; I had six of them. I waited on Coolidge, too; he had a suite at June 11,1927 the Willard when he was Vice President. And Coolidge is all right. Of course, he don’t tip like Harding did, Harding was a rich man and Coolidge never had much money. He ight, though; he gave a quarter or thirty-five But Mrs. Coolidge—she is wonderful! Oh, she is a lovely lady. Why? Well, she is never high hat; she talks to you. Mr. Coolidge hardly ever talked, but she did. And she smiles and laughs with you.” He stopped and drew a long breath—that gracious charm of Grace Coolidge has not been lost upon this active citizen—then he went on eagerly: “T want to tell you somethin’ I noticed about the Coolidges. leads and he follows—down the halls and into the dining room. They say that is the right way —for the lady to lead—but all I know is that not many gentlemen who come to Washington let ladies do it. Generally they go in first. But I had one great time when they lived there. It was the night of the Gridiron dinner. The tables were in the ballroom on the tenth floor. Well, they all went home, and somewhere between ont and six A.M. fire broke out it posed a cigarette butt caught in a drapery. I came on at six, and the halls were filled with smoke and the run- nin’ and people runnin’ out in their night clothes and yellin’, ‘Five dollars to take pee my trunk down! but was all cents. She always 1 } al Was SuUp- , elevators not A Schedule of Tips “T saw I could make another fellow starte runnin’ them down on the steps from the tenth floor bed and she asked the : her out. We did, in a blanket, and took her to the Washington Hotel. Scared? Naw, I was makin’ money. Well, the Coolidges was in their suite and we went to the door money, There was one woman sick in and knox ked, and no answe r oO Wwe DroKe n the eard a thing ce. Then they got uy I made In an hour, € 1 I lil and they sat up bewildered : 7 I came out. twenty-five morning dollar bill Not charted by name, but and I found a five- also ir | ] letters in the bell boys’ list, are those guest who make a point of tipping a dollar for no ma r how sm Do r yr them that rofe n t and rkers’ contempt sd easure ese heavy tippers have a dollar hat They're not usually men of large we h, but mere men of large gesture If or them has ninety cents in s ! pocke nda boy brings him a new } \ end the boy to the ish ) hange twenty-dollar bill and tip a dollar. It’s the principle of the thing For the benefit of those readers who realize now that they are hopelessly out- classed in this matter of tipping and who still wish to travel and earn the be Do respect, as Well as pay him a sum that w enable him to have food an pause here to answer the questior rming on 10,000,000 or more lips ‘“‘What is expected? What ought ar How am I to ordinary traveler to t know?” The simplest way is to ask lar bell boy. He is tion. Every day someone is the minimum, or usual, tip?” boy is quite prepared to answer. But for the timid soul who shirks such questioning, I advance the following sched- ule. Paste it in your traveling case. It is authorized by bell boys who have worked in more than forty first-class houses. “For rooming a lady or gent with the ordinary amount of luggage—say two bags—in a first-class hotel, a quarter. If there are three or four bags, forty to fifty cents. This means we carry them to their room and see that lights, heat, bath, towels and soap, andsoon, areallright. If anything your particu- quite used to the ques- inquires ‘‘ What and the (Continued on Page 46)

Page 47

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46 Watch This Column Our Weekly Letter

“SNOOKUMS”

Universal’s “Short Subjects” which are depended on to brighten the programs of thousands of theatres throughout the world, have been devel- unusual extent for the coming as ilways found that anything which makes the human family laugh is worthy of the ducer’s best efforts. I'd rather make you 1 than cry. SNOOKUMS"”

oped to an

pro-

made a tremen- hit. | r ociwous of the ‘Newly- veds,’’ Stern Brothers’ r ict fro George d, tum } d zg A to ivor recy he a hen. er see 1 t

ty shes GEORGE LEWIS in | 1 **The Collegians

. > Collegians,’ too, are on re 8S ist ot preferred ‘*The subjects.

Laemmle, Jr ped into favor in a night oh thease Shart Star of college fe. The cast ht t t of the campus and

kedthe right voung tars to interpret these

By the way, we have been

looking for » long time for the subject that will appeal to all, and w t

“OSWALD, The Lucky Rabbit’’ a Winkler I

ry I'll tell you about luding Octavus Roy ( rles Puff *“Harol« iR Highbrou s th Chur

ir Lake wit Art f faemml President

ntinued next week )

»>TURES 730 Fifth Ave., New York City THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 44 else is wanted, it is another tip—a dime or more. Inasmaller hotel or a less expensive one, fifteen cents. “For bringing up cigarettes in response to a phone call, ten cents. ‘For bringing up a package or telegram, ten cents. ‘For going to the hotel drug store for a razor, tooth paste, soda, or anything, a quarter. This takes more time than the igarettes from the stand. “For bringing a newspaper or magazine, ten cents. “For going out of the hotel on any er- rand, at least a dollar. If the errand is a long one, a dollar an hour is the minimum. ‘*For talking to guests in their rooms ure, we talk to them. Many atime ona a stormy one a man or an old lady will ask for a boy to come to the room and talk about the city. And we go and talk about the shows and whatever they want, and maybe we plan a couple of days’ stay for them. We expect at least a dollar an hour for that. We might that akin’ our turn as Front, and we have to time. ‘*For acting as courier or guide to guests and taking them about town —all expenses, any taken in, and five dollars an afternoon, ten dollars a full day, dark day or miss lre on tickets to shows ‘“‘Going on long journeys, the same rate five dollars a half day.” It’s a when you get a long journey. One boy was taken by a guest on a trip abroad, the hotel giving him leave of “good bell’’ absence. Another had a two months’ stay at At- lantic City, where he took care of a man who had a nervous breakdowh. At resort hotels courier guides are in de- mand, and the bell boy who specializes in resort work in summer makes his fifty-five dollars a week, if he is in a good location. At Niagara Falls rewards come easily. Good Tippers and Bad ‘*A man is never so generous as when said a veteran bell boy sagely. “I go to Niagara every year And , thick and fast, and the bride slipping off in the lobby, he’s on his honeymoon,” there are the honeymooners, comin while the groom forgets to regis- and maybe goes up to the room I’ve had them by hundreds. They always tip well; they send for an; want; and I ter her without her. thing their wives gue } wives have it figured out as a main chance, because they manage to want quite a bit In a resort, if you guide, you are entitled to attractions, for you bring to them. Altogether, I always ind I know what I am goin’ how. I can tell, the minute a omes to the i rebate from the various any party know a you make good money.

noneymooner,

man room clerk.” How do you tell?”’ I demanded. Every

he boy I } e ever known has held tl ” on of being able to estimate } tip n advance, and so firmly does he believe in acumen that he is willing to gamble on t. Again and again the whisper goes along to Front: ‘‘Give you a quarter for your mar If Front figures his man as worth ( y a quarter he makes time by chan the card that indicates his place on without the

and

ne nas hard Work Is it clothing or appearance?’’ I urged There came a chorus of decisive ‘‘ Naws,’ ind out of the babel following, I was able to get some fact I the mysteriou omething that er

EVENING POST tipper. He may be smart “It’s more in the way he and ‘‘the look on his face.” and a poor one carries himself,” If he’s grouchy If he’s melan- choly, a dime or fifteen cents. If he is cheerful, expansive and talky, a quarter or more. “‘A good man is a talky man. No, that don’t go f looking, no tip, or a dime. for women. But a who is going to tip you well will talk weather, call you man about the maybe son or iad-

die, or say somethin’. If he don’t talk, he ain’t likely to be so good. Women? A good woman is good; she is better than any man, for if she don’t give so much, she don’t A man will forget, a woman If she goes home and don’t see you forget you. don’t. } ; she'll write back and send the tip. But clothes have got nothin’ to do with it,

‘ j ana rooms not

much ally speakin’, un- Amer medium-priced rooms tip better than the

less South icans are in the hotel, the g tips are plentiful in fiction, but fact. In certain they suites.”” Bi

hotels

aiways ri A Call for Kindling Wood } “T was watchin’ the phone booths one day,” said a captain “you know phone booths are good places to be near; you often get a call from a fellow who leave

one—well, I was lookin’ at a door a woman had left closed, and I opened it to show the phone was not in use, when I saw a hand bag—big size, like an overnight | I it to the office and we opened it, and it was

full of jewels, diamonds, pe: iso or So I went ba < to the lobby and it was put in the safe, and about an hour later a woman rushes In, goes to the middle ol »Z 1 lobby and yells, ‘I’ve lost my j vels.’ I goes to her and takes her to the office and she identifies them. She was some nervous, who found them and turned

and she is them in, and they says it w

“*Those jewels are worth $25,000 he says, almost sobbin’. And she presses bills into my hand. Well, we ain’t to look what is given us, but I goes » see It was two one-dollar bill F The courier tip is big, but it means time If it takes a wer to show a mar pout t town and the tip is fifty dollars, that 1 only fl or tend lars more t thes ¢ time would bring if spent in the hotel é extr not large Odd je metim«e bring tips out of proportion to their value At one of t ( n Ne Yor ( r too ( H \ nerson of means and 1 we One he called the be yy capta I want to know if a boy ean get some kindling wood,” | a 1 7 captalr houg qu he n his lite MW ( ( ‘Those round andl went or for two cent I want x ¢ rhe tain hung \ vanted wit! x ndles « i he could not imag But he ser ) Third Avenue and the boy returned six bundles of kindling at the 19 five cents each. The guest re ed ther gave the be two do nd o ed **Now i ib and put them

I’ve t a daughter dov ) those studio att n Greer nh \ he explained She é We I ent ) ef t her a l ens She won’t take 1 , — it

June 11,1927 ‘When I go to a ball and stay I pay well, see? I check my co and I give the girl a quarter, in town, + i¢ 4} know she don’t get it, because she is worl and all her tips are turned

» fellow whe coat room. coat out I give another q cents to I do And when I’m shown to my roor twe nty-five ished sure

its the trouble \ nw t of tl people who dor r l he ain't learned to trav And they’re afraid hev’ll n e mistake . wer th up Dy belr ss andt I ¢ the peo A inde 1. You te them Lots of peo} don’t know rT} other day a m mar me in fror Canada. He had seven he bags and took two of us to r t! to ! r He s a big fello vell-dressed in t Enclis} n ” i od } ne ) it re TY l ( Y Fes nt to give yY Pane SEN “We looked at then 1 ned We w su ly Naw, | mean al hing | ¢ } I gave n { } } nted them ‘ Innocents in the Big City At the Ses ( ny mr f the home And ORE on Ve ne ne 1 I id he i I How much off He yuldn’t be lieve me when I not : f mar to ft Y \\ D vent nd e Dutcl } ’ ' qu er ind is \\ t y nted to ' en I t t ¢ i e'( ( ) R ++ ; ' - I « there j Ds , ( t I i t i

ve ‘ | t re Vy oe \1 e our wi TY r t eleve i \ tiny \\ )

Continued on Page 48

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Your enjoyment on tour this summer will be made more certain if you install a set of dependable Cham- pion Spark Plugs before you start. Your car will per- form better under all driving conditions, because every dependable Champion Spark Plug is of two-piece gas-tight construction, with sillimanite insulators and special analysis electrodes. That is why two out of three motorists the world over buy Champions regularly. Ul I e st Ford to Re R Champion Spark Plugs lpryerertioay ie have been standard equip- Y oe ment on Ford cars and ; trucks for 16 years and . the Fordson tractor since it was introduced i/} i " “ { Fora am ei on us nap Car manufacturers recommend, and hundreds of thousands of motorists are « spark plugs every year to insure better and more economical car operatios 4

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46 Watch This Column Our Weekly Letter PS “SNOOKUMS” Universal's “Short Subjects” which are depended on to brighten the programs of thousands of theatres throughout the world, have been devel- oped to an unusual extent for the coming season. | have always found that anything which makes the human family laugh is worthy of the pro- | ducer’s best efforts. | I'd rather make you laugh than cry. “SNOOKUMS” |~ has made a tremen- dous hit. The precocious baby of the ““Newly- weds,’ Stern Brothers’ product from George McManus’ famous car- toons, has rolled, tum- bled and grinned him- self into public favor. Have you seen him? Did | you ever see a baby more bent on “Raising Ned?” Heeven furnishes fun for the studio, and that’s going some. “é : The Collegians,’’ too, are on the theatre’s list of preferred subjects. Car! Laemmie, Jr., jumped into favor in a night with these Short Stories of college life. The cast- ing director caught the spirit of the campus and pickedtheright young stars to interpret these dashing comedies. By the way, we have been looking for a long time for the ani- mated cartoon subject that will appeal to all, and we think we have found it in “‘OSWALD, The Lucky Rabbit’? a W GEORGE LEWIS in “*The Collegians’’ jinkler Production drawn by Waiter Disney. I wish you would watch for the first one and write me your opinion of it as soon as you see it. A little later I'll tell you about other comedies, including Octavus Roy Cohen stories with Charles Puffy, ‘‘Harold Highbrow’’ series with Churchill Ross and ““Drag Store Cowbcy’’ with Arthur Lake. 2 =) (arl faemmle President “OSWALD —The Lucky Rabbit” (To be continued next week ) 1# you want to be on our mailing list send in your name and address UNIVERSAL PICTURES 730 Fifth Ave., New York City THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 44) else is wanted, it is another tip—a dime or more. In asmaller hotel or a less expensive one, fifteen cents. “For bringing up cigarettes in response to a phone call, ten cents. “For bringing up a package or telegram, ten cents. “For going to the hotel drug store for a razor, tooth paste, soda, or anything, a quarter. This takes more time than the cigarettes from the stand. “For bringing a newspaper or magazine, | ten cents. “For going out of the hotel on any er- rand, at least a dollar. If the errand is a long one, a dollar an hour is the minimum. “For talking to guests in their rooms— sure, we talk to them. Many a time on a dark day or a stormy one a man or an old | lady will ask for a boy to come to the room | an hour for that. and talk about the city. And we go and talk about the shows and whatever they want, and maybe we plan a couple of days’ stay for them. We expect at least a dollar We might miss that | takin’ our turn as Front, and we have to figure on time. “For acting as courier or guide to guests and taking them about town —all expenses, tickets to any shows taken in, and five dollars an afternoon, ten dollars a full day. ‘Going on long journeys, the same rate— five dollars a half day.” It’s a “good bell’’ when you get a long journey. One boy was taken by a guest on a trip abroad, the hotel giving him leave of absence. Another had a two months’ stay at At- lantic City, where he took care of a man | who had a nervous breakdown. At resort hotels courier guides are in de- mand, and the bell boy who specializes in | resort work in summer makes his fifty-five | dollars a week, if he is in a good location. | you make good money. At Niagara Falls rewards come easily. Good Tippers and Bad “A man is never so generous as when he’s on his honeymoon,”’ said a veteran bell boy sagely. “‘I go to Niagara every year. And there are the honeymooners, comin’ thick and fast, and the bride slipping off in the lobby, while the groom forgets to regis- ter her and maybe goes up to the room without her. I’ve had them by hundreds. They always tip well; they send for any- thing their wives want; and I guess the wives have it figured out as a main chance, because they manage to want quite a bit. In a resort, if you guide, you are entitled to a rebate from the various attractions, for any party you bring to them. Altogether, I always know a honeymooner, and I know what I am goin’ to get anyhow. I car tell, the minute a man comes to the room clerk.” “How do you tell?” I demanded. Every bell boy I have ever known has held this | conviction of being able to estimate his tip in advance, and so firmly does he believe in | his acumen that he is willing to gamble on | it. Again and again the whisper goes along to Front: “Give you a quarter for your man.” If Front figures his man as worth only a quarter, he makes time by changing the card that indicates his place on the wheel—quickly, and without the superin- tendent’s knowledge—for the card of the better. He will gamble on his knowledge, but he has hard work defining it. “Ts it clothing or appearance?’’ I urged. There came a chorus of decisive ‘‘ Naws,”’ and out of the babel following, I was able to get some facts. It—the mysterious something that en- ables a bell boy to gauge you accurately, and in the main he does gauge you accu- rately, as you come into a hotel—is not clothes. A man may be shabby and a good EVENING POST tipper. He may be smart and a poor one. “It’s more in the way he carries himself,” and “‘the look on his face.’’ If he’s grouchy looking, no tip, or a dime. If he’s melan- choly, a dime or fifteen cents. If he is cheerful, expansive and talky, a quarter or more. ““A good man is a talky man. No, that don’t go for women. But a man who is going to tip you well will talk about the weather, maybe call you son or lad- die, or say somethin’. If he don’t talk, he ain’t likely to be so good. Women? A good woman is good; she is better than any man, for if she don’t give so much, she don’t forget you. A man will forget, a woman don’t. If she goes home and don’t see you, she'll write back and send the tip. But clothes have got nothin’ to do with it, and rooms not much. Generally speakin’, un- less South Americans are in the hotel, the medium-priced rooms tip better than the suites.’ Big tips are plentiful in fiction, but scarce in fact. In certain hotels they always run large. A Call for Kindling Wood “I was watchin’ the phone booths one day,”’ said a captain—‘‘you know phone booths are good places to be near; you can often get a call from a fellow who leaves one—well, I was lookin’ at a door a woman had left closed, and I opened it to show the phone was not in use, when I saw a hand bag—big size, like an overnight bag. I took it to the office and we opened it, and it was full of jewels, diamonds, pearls, and so on. So I went back to the lobby and it was put in the safe, and about an hour later a woman rushes in, goes to the middle of the lobby and yells, ‘I’ve lost my jewels.’ I goes to her and takes her to the office and she identifies them. She was some nervous, and she asks who found them and turned them in, and they says it was me. “*Those jewels are worth $25,000,’ she says, almost sobbin’. And she presses bills into my hand. Well, we ain’t allowed to look what is given us, but I goes off to a corner to see. It was two one-dollar bills.”’ The courier tip is big, but it means time. If it takes a week to show a man about the town and the tip is fifty dollars, that is only five or ten dollars more than the same time would bring if spent in the hotel. The extra is not large. Odd jobs sometimes bring tips out of all proportion to their value. At one of the leading hotels in New York City a man took a suite. He wasa person of means and tipped well. One day he called the bell-boy captain. “T want to know if a boy can get me some kindling wood,”’ he demanded. The captain thought quickly. ‘“‘There’s no hearth in his suite. What on earth ——”’ “Those round bundles,” went on the voice over the phone—‘‘they used to sell for two cents—I want six of them.” The captain hung up. What a guest wanted with six bundles of kindling wood, he could not imagine. But he sent a boy to Third Avenue and the boy returned with six bundles of kindling at the 1927 price of five cents each. The guest received them, gave the boy two dollars and ordered ““Now call a cab and put them in it’— which the wondering boy did. As the guest entered the cab he saw the dumfounded look on boy’s and captain’s faces and he grinned. “T’ve got a daughter down in one of those studio attics in Greenwich Village,” he explained. ‘She thinks she’s an artist. Well, I went to see her the other day and froze. She won't take money from me, but she’s got a fireplace, and I propose to be warm when I see her today!” The best tipper on earth, considering his income, is a bell boy! point of honor. It is a professional June 11,1927 “When I go to a ball and stay overnight in town, I pay well, see? I check my coat and I give the girl a quarter, although I know she don’t get it, because she is work- ing on salary and all her tips are turned over to the fellow who has the concession for the coat room. And when I get my coat out I give another quarter, see? I pay twenty-five cents to have my shoes pol- ished—sure I do. That guy has to work like me. And when I stay overnight and I’m shown to my room at one of the smaller hotels, I give the bell boy a dollar for roomin’ me. We bell boys are no pikers. We know how to travel.” “That’s the trouble with most of the people who don’t treat you right. They ain’t learned to travel. And they’re afraid they’ll make mistakes, so they cover that up by bein’ cross and tippin’ shy. Travelers are the people who understand. You can tell them. “Lots of people just don’t know. The other day a mining man came in from Canada. He had seven heavy bags and it took two of us to carry them to his room. He was a big fellow, well-dressed in the English style, and after we had roomed him, he stood there and grinned down on us. ***You boys have been so good to me,’ he said, ‘I want to give you something.’ “‘And he handed us each two Canadian pennies! “We looked at them and grinned back. We was bustin’ laughin’. Naw, he didn’t mean anything; he just thought that was allright. I gave mine to the chambermaid; she wanted them for a collection.” Innocents in the Big City At the Sesqui-Centennial last summer there were visitors who had never before left their homes. And many of the old jokes on guests were revived in fact and new ones added. “T took a man to his room—and you know, there’s all rooms and baths in this hotel—and he looks in and says, ‘I see there is a bath to this room. I don’t need a bath. How much off?’ He wouldn’t be- lieve me when I says nothin’ off, and he went down to the room clerk. We had a Dutch convention of some kind here, too, and one Dutch lady comes to me with a quarter and asks, ‘Where is the meter?’ She wanted to be sure her lights would stay on! “Then I had two farmers. They had a room and bath, and when we went in, they liked it fine. ‘Say, son,’ says one, ‘can we use that bath tonight?’ I guess he thought we'd run out of hot water. But the queer- est of them all was two guys from some town who come in and asked me for an oil stove to cook on. I explained there was no cookin’ allowed in the hotel, and they was mad. ‘Don’t want to cook much,’ says one of them. ‘Just a few chops.’ I sent them to an automat, but they grumbled a lot.” The most disliked job a bell boy can encounter is the opening of a new hotel. If he wants a job in the new hostelry, a boy is expected to go in when the hotel opens. “‘ And the first four to six weeks we move bureaus and beds and chairs—all stiff work. And if there are guests, they are few. I hate a new hotel until it’s really open. No money to speak of and you ache all over every night. I don’t mind other things much. ‘*Maybe our worst trouble is losin’ our tempers. You know, we meet the guest with a smile six.to eleven hours a day. Well, sometimes it’s too much to smile and we break out. We get a day of bad breaks and run‘our legs off gettin’ time tables and ice water and findin’ out about busses, and (Continued on Page 48)

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Your enjoyment on tour this summer will be made more certain if you install a set of dependable Cham- pion Spark Plugs before you start. Your car will per- form better under all driving conditions, because every dependable Champion Spark Plug is of two-piece gas-tight construction, with sillimanite insulators and special analysis electrodes. That is why two out of three motorists the world over buy Champions regularly. CHAMPION Champion Spark Plugs have been standard equip- ment on Ford cars and trucks for 16 years and the Fordson tractor since it was introduced. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST $7 STA Champions are standard equipment on the entire range of motor cars from Ford to Rolls-Royce and there is a correctly de- signed Champion for every type and kind of engine. Dave Lewis Wins With Champions Champion added another 1927 victory at the 200-mile race at Atlantic City, May 7. Every car among the 16 qualifying Fe) was Champion equipped. Dave Lewis, the winner at 129.89 miles an hour, set a new world record for o1 inch cars TOLEDO, OHIO. Champions were also equipment in the Stutz, winner of the special 75-mile stock car race, at an average of 86 miles an bour and in the Auburn and Paigecars which ran second and third Car manufacturers recommend, and hundreds of thousands of motorists are changing spark plugs every year to insure better and more economical car operation. All spark plugs even Champions, ultimately lose some of their efficiency under the continued stress of 600 to 1500 explosions per minute. ’ Pitting of electrodes eventually checks the free flow of current. Carbon burned into the insula tory will, in time, cause current leakage. A weakened spark is the result. * Under these conditions the in- stantaneous ignition necessary to cause complete combustion does not take place. Gas is wasted. Power is lost. * That is why it is real economy to install new spark plugs every 10,000 miles. + Champion X — exclusively for Ford cars, trucks and Fordson tractors—60 cents. Set of four—$2.40. * Champion—for all other cars—75 cents. Set of four-—$3.00. Set of six—$4.50.

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You men with tender skins you men with wiry s—you men who would enjoy a bes = clean shave each ay (twice a dayif need be) without the slight- est soreness or irrita- tion of the face— MOLLE is for you — Try this delightful beard-softening cream instead of brush a lather, for a few shaves and learn what a won- derful aid it is to quick, easy shaving. Just spread MOLLE over the beard like a fragrant cold cream ana use the razor— that’s all. There’s nothing else like it. Sold by thirty thou- sand leading Druggists _ —ask yours. ‘ A big, special, trial tube will besentanywhereinthe United States, postpaid, for 25c a THE PRYDE-WYNN CO. NEW BRIGHTON, PA. de i i | front of him. Yes, we do. | on the next. THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 46) hardly a tip. They run that way some- times. And then some man asks us for cigarettes after we carry two heavy bags to his room, and we get ’em and he hands us a nickel, and we throw it on the floor right in More of us get fired for throwing down nickels and dimes than anything else, and we know it; but it’s just too much. That’s what keeps most of us down. If you want to be an assistant | captain or a captain you’ve got to keep your temper.” a The Bell Boy’s Ladder Promotion, for a bell boy, may mean being taken off the regular shift and put on the dog watch. In many hotels there is a day dog watch and a night dog watch, and the term has come to mean any number of straight hours’ service. The shifts work upon many plans, usually from seven to three on one day and from three to twelve In some houses a long and short day is alternated, from seven A.M. to twelve noon, and from six P.M. to twelve midnight on the long day, and from twelve noon to six P.M. on the short one. The night dog watch, from five P.M. to two A.M., is the cream of the bell-boy job. There are no salesmen coming then and the best people check in in the night. Business men detained in town come in for rooms, | orders for ginger ale and sandwiches come | after the kitchen is closed, opportunity | speaks oftener. | ally appointed by the captain, who expects | an extra share of the results of the oppor- tunity thus afforded. Dog-watch men are usu- To be captain comes next, with fifty cents a day from every bell boy on your EVENING POST shift or, in a few hotels that are exceptions to the rule, no pay from the boys, but a good salary. If you have a shift of ten, this means five dollars a day and the re- sults of your own work, for a captain an- swers calls and gets his own tips. Next comes an assistant superintendent of serv- ice in a large hotel and a superintendent of service in a small one. This is a position of responsibility. The superintendent of service has charge of all the house service employes except those concerned with the dining rooms and kitchen—elevator men, door men, porters and bell boys are under his authority. It is a job that pays well and it has perquisites. Certain conces- sions go with it. The superintendent may have the employes’ barber shop and split 40-60 with the barber who works there. He may also have the bootblacks on salary or commission; he may’ manage the pub- lic lavatories for guests and reap the dimes for soap and towels. He is a man in busi- ness for himself, with the possibility of a good income. Sometimes the boys have side lines while bellhopping. One boy is a reporter for a tabloid newspaper in off hours. He never presumes upon his hotel tips, but plays his first and second games straight. Another built up a unique business. He kept a close eye upon the death notices. When a well- to-do man in his city died, he waited a week and then called on or wrote the near- est relatives, offering to assist them in dis- posing of the clothing of the man who had no further need for it. These clothes, often sold by relatives who had no use for them, were the basis of a very nice little trade. But these are exceptions. The occasional boy who has his eye on an outside place is also an exception. Sometimes a boy drifts June 11,1927 out into the restaurant business, where his ready smile and his gift of attention mean profit. But mostly their ambitions are in the hotel business which is expanding and developing before their eyes. Many a room clerk has come from the bell boys’ bench, and many a manager of a small hotel. In a great hotel in Philadelphia the bell boys point to an assistant manager and say: ‘He used to bellhop. He’s worth a quarter of a million, he is, and he draws a good salary. He invested his money.” The Wheel of Chance Repeated again and again is the fairy tale of Willie Peterson— Willie, who, when he came toa New York hotel as page boy, was so small that the management feared suspicion of employing child labor. But Willie worked and grew and attended high school as he worked, fitting in school and work hours, and receiving honors at both ends. When Willie was sent to Germany in hotel uniform, to take a personal mes- sage to Hugo Stinnes, he thought he had reached the apex of his career, but not for long. Returning, he became mail clerk, room clerk, studied shorthand and type- writing, became secretary to the manager, went from there to be room clerk at one of the largest hotels at Palm Beach. He is there now—confidential secretary to the manager. And Willie is not yet twenty- one! On the bigger wheel of chance, there wait life’s opportunities. Sooner or later, every bell boy believes that his turn will come, and he aims to let no wolf head him off, but to keep his ears open for the larger call of “‘Fr-r-ront!” BANKS AND THE PEOPLE will come all the way West across the coun- try. I have tried to look ahead, and have perhaps reversed the ordinary procedure a | little. Our headquarters are in California, | but we own banks in New York. When the Eastern institutions reach across the continent we expect to be ready. They will not take our bank away from us. I think I have tied myself enough to the people of California to prevent that.” Regardless of any such future extensions as Mr. Giannini envisions, it may be ob- served that the development of the branch system in California has made the Pacific Coast and portions of the intermountain interior less dependent upon the East for financial assistance. The movement has in this respect been toward emancipation rather than monopoly. Theoretically, one great bank might do the country’s business. Practically, in Great | Britain today competition is very keen, al- though five banks control the situation. In | practice the public will never permit one institution to control. The public is fickle. Customers will leave one bank in a huff | because of some petty requirement and then blandly give their business to another bank which imposes precisely the same conditions. People simply refuse to be pleased by one concern. An independent may take customers away from a branch for some petty, unimportant reason, but | the branch will turn around and take busi- | ness away from the independent for equally slight cause. The Conscript Army But after all, the main question we have to consider is whether branch banking serves communities well or ill. It does not matter what the bankers think so much as whether the public is accommodated. The objec- tions to branch banking seem to have come from the bankers themselves and not from the public. The discussion, protracted, bit- ter and violent, appears to have centered around the question of whether the branch practice is good for the banks and whether (Continued from Page 25) this or that group of banks is entitled to this or that privilege in connection with it. In a recent hearing before a committee of Congress, where the question was threshed out at great length, Senator Glass asked a witness if any formal protests had been lodged with the California legislature against branch banking by chambers of commerce, boards of trade and manufac- turers’ associations. He was answered in the negative. Senator Glass then asked if the National Association of Credit Men, through its California branch, had ever made any formal protest, and the reply was again in the negative. A clever spokesman for the independent bankers of that state counters by saying that the vast number of depositors and cus- tomers in branch banks are a conscript rather than a volunteer army; that they wake up in the morning to find the inde- pendent bank sold out over their heads, “frequently against and always irrespec- tive of their will. As well assert that the slaughterhouse where most sheep are killed is the most popular with the sheep.” This spokesman, Mr. MacDonnell, of Pasadena, further points out that the aver- age customer has no ideas on banking ex- cept those which are fed to him over the counter by the banker with whom he hap- pens to do business. As there are many branches in his state, it follows that hun- dreds of thousands of customers are fed branch-bank ideas. It is true that in Cali- fornia a certain odium attaches to the selling out of an independent bank. Sev- eral local business men of whom I made inquiry admitted that more money had come into the community with branches, but declared they were very suspicious of the whole thing all the same. The presidents of independent banks who sell out and become branch managers are often subjected to much criticism from their fellow townsmen, even though they are able to lend their customers more after than before the change. One such branch manager told me his friends said he had submerged instead of merged when he joined the big-city institution, and he added, ‘‘ With local feeling as it is, we have succeeded despite, rather than because of, branch banking.” It is probable that if a bank is compelled at any time to call loans or take other dis- agreeable measures, as, of course, it must occasionally do, such action is more un- popular when taken by a branch than by an independent unit bank. In some states banksare afraid to use the word “branches,” calling them suboffices or subagencies. Perverse Publicity On the other hand, if branches were actually serving their communities badly, one might naturally expect formal protests from the commercial interests and real signs of popular disapproval, of which there are none whatever. Certainly the extremely powerful and highly organized agricultural groups in California would register a vigor- ous objection. On the contrary, they ap- prove of branch banking, as far as the writer can learn, and several of the codper- ative leaders are directors of branch banks. But the most lively competition between the two systems, as far as I can discover anywhere in this country, has been in a nonagricultural community, Pasadena. The largest of the independent banks has shown a big growth, but so have the branches. Dr. John Willis Baer, former moderator of the Presbyterian Church and now manager of a branch in that city, told me that in five years his deposits had grown from $9,500,000 to $18,500,000. He added, “Someone likes branch banking. No busi- ness has ever had such aggressive competi- tion as we have had here.” Melvin A. Traylor, president of the First National Bank of Chicago and therefore not engaged in the branch practice, told the American Bankers Association, of which he is president, at their last convention, that if the unit bankers keep on talking against branch banking, the people will think there is some good reason for it. (Continued on Page 50)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 49 | ——————rr Ll ome L IS a feminine characteristic to want all one’s possessions to be beautiful and in good taste. Women suffer more from ugli- ness or shabbiness than men. If they use a closed car for shopping or social engagements they want its interior to be as well groomed as their own person, as attrac- tive as their own living room— and to remain so. YY BS be Me B.F S +e E Cars upholstered in CA-VEL, the velvets of enduring beauty, meet their requirements per- fectly. In consequence, these richly colored fabrics have es- tablished a vogue as predomi- nant in the fine car market as among furniture makers and interior decorators. No other textile is used to so great an extent in the motor car field. The advantages of CA-VEL are overwhelming: a lustrous beauty that out-lives the car; a glowing surface that is unruffled by body pressure; a smart, well condi- tioned appearance that means greater motoring satisfaction; and, not the least gratifying, a much higher re-sale value. Collins & Aikman Company, Established 1845, New York City. ~~ K 4 ee 1 | ie | 2 a A U T.¥

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50 H \ (k ATS fer HE Knapp-Felt way Ter making straw hats preserves the natural lustre of the straw undimmed, the full, rounded braid un- crushed, and produces that pleasant feeling of comfortable ease on the head. Tbe JUNE ‘BUG is the New Knapp- Felt Straw A Perfect Example of American Craftsmanship The Reverse-Lap- Brim method of mak- ing the head-band soft enough to fit comfort- ably avoids clumsy ap- pliances that mar the smartness of the trim style. The June Bug will be featured by the best hatters. The Summer Knapp-Felts include Sennits, Panamas, Ballibuntals and Leghorns in the best proportions and all sizes. Tue Crorut & Knapp COMPANY JOHN CAVANAGH — President 620 Fifth Avenue - New York City ea, NAPP-FELT MEN y, THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 48) In a previous article it was pointed out that the ambitions and thirst for power of dominant personalities accounts in part for the spread of bank mergers and branches. Strong men act first and rationalize after- warc. But all men do this, whether strong or weak. Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. The big man who opens a hundred branches finds theoretical reasons after- ward to justify his action, but so does the little man at the head of a small local bank, who is afraid he is going to lose his dignified position. His arguments against branches are as much colored by self-interest as are the other man’s arguments for branches. The clamor of small bank presidents afraid of losing their jobs should not be mistaken for public sentiment. So we must seek to discover directly whether branch banking serves its com- munities well or ill. The first fact disclosed is that the whole American independent banking system is based upon the corre- spondent relationship. This means that the tens of thousands of small country banks must depend upon their correspondents in cities like St. Louis, Chicago and especially New York, to handle excess loans for them. One bank in New York has 6000 of these accounts and several others have from 2000 to 5000. By “country” banks I mean practically all those outside the larger cities. Most of these institutions have a capital so limited that by law they cannot lend more than a small amount to any one borrower, and the remainder of the necessi- ties of their customers must be cared for by excess loans from the big-city correspond- ents. The small bank usually carries a balance with the larger institution, and in slack season will send on surplus funds, which eventually find their way into call loans on the New York Stock Exchange. But when the crops come on, the local banks not only must employ their own funds; in addition they are forced to call upon the city corre- spondent for help. Those who combat the branch system are afraid that in a crisis the head office might leave its branches in the lurch. But it certainly is under stronger motive and obligation to help them out than is the big independent city corre- spondent. In a pinch the latter has a much easier moral exit, and the history of bank- ing certainly does not prove that the cor- respondent relation is wholly satisfactory in a panic. Thus we have always had an immense in- formal branch-banking system in this coun- try. It has been branch banking in effect, and there are able city bankers—big ones at that—who regard it as the better system of the two. The big New York or Chicago banker, with his thousands of correspond- ents, wields an enormous influence without assuming the responsibility and risk which go with branches. Once he enters the branch field he places his whole capital at stake in each and all of the branches. Sympathy and Responsibility There are other advantages in the cor- respondent relationship, but many people are raising the question of why the big-city banks should not dodirectly what they have long done indirectly. An organizer of farm- ers’ coéperatives told the writer that he had been opposed to branch banking until he discovered that the banks were already involved. It is more a change of method than an engaging in business in a new field. Much of the whole elaborate and moving argument against branch banking breaks down completely once these few simple facts are understood. The independent banker refers eloquently to the more sym- pathetic understanding of the customer’s needs by a local, home-community institu- tion. But the bald, simple fact is that the local home bank can at best only appeal to a remote correspondent to take over what is beyond its own ability, and by the very laws of its existence that ability is usually slight. EVENING POST Certainly the head office is just as sym- pathetic toward its branches as a great city unit is toward its correspondents. The rela- tion is closer, more direct, more responsi- ble, and action is swifter. It is true that big-city unit banks draw officers from all sections of the country in order to understand the requirements of their country correspondents, but the head office of a branch system has more control of the situation. It probably knows the seasonal needs of its fifty or a hundred branches, for each of which it is financially responsible, better than a New York or Chicago unit bank knows the requirements of several thousand correspondents, for none of which it is directly responsible. In the opinion of the writer, branch bank- ing is even more suitable to the country than to the city. In one place it is merely a convenience; in the other it is a protection. Historically it is a country rather than a city proposition, characteristic of Southern and Western states more than of the East- ern cities. Diversified Bank Crops Although regarded now by its opponents as new and un-American, branch banking flourished before the Civil War in states like Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky and Mis- souri. It has been in existence for a long time in rural sections of Maryland, South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisi- ana, as well as in other states, receiving no notice in these places, even though it ante- dated the big development in New York City, Cleveland, Detroit and California. In Maryland, South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana there are branch- bank systems with head offices in towns so small as to be wholly unknown outside the state. Most of the branches are in very small rural centers. It is true that none of these systems, nor the one in Maine, is very large, and they have not expanded aggressively, as in Cali- fornia. But looking at the California situa- tion theoretically, any outside observer would expect branches to develop exten- sively and work well there. The state pro- duces an enormous variety of crops, each crop in a different part of the state, so that each section is a one-crop section. One might suppose that if a bank chose its branches carefully and according to an agricultural scheme or pattern, it might use its total resources as a revolving fund, first to finance one crop and then another. As a matter of fact, many of the crops do mature arid are harvested at different times. In this way one community can be made to help another. One cop moves another. Obviously the safest banking is where there is a diversity of loans. The small rural bank lending to farmers money which it has obtained from farmers all in the same locality, all on one crop, and all at the same time, is an anachronism. California is pri- marily an agricultural state, and much of its farming area has been seriously de- pressed. Yet it has had practically no bank failures, as compared with several thousand in the Central West. Opponents of branch banking hasten to explain that the branch system is not what has saved California, but rather the influx of new capital in the hands of tourists and settlers, and the wealth from new oil fields. Any new banking system would succeed in the rising market caused by these factors, they declare. As for agricultural success, that, they say, is due to the highly developed coéperative-marketing associations. But the development of the marketing as- sociations and branch banking have been closely related, and the strength of one has made possible the financing of the other. As for surplus capital in the hands of new- comers, it is through the very agency of the branch banks that this money has been gathered up in places like Berkeley, Santa Barbara, Pasadena and Los Angeles, to be loaned out in the thirsty rural areas. Mr. Giannini says his bank can lend $6,000,000 unsecured in a small country June 11,1927 town. Such a large sum is not likely to be loaned out in a small place, but there is no questioning the effectiveness of the branch mechanism for reaching down to the tap roots of city wealth and transferring it to the country districts which are so generally devoid of funds. The bank of which Messrs. Robinson and Stern are the heads has fifty city branches and fifty rural branches. Many of the city branches carry immense numbers of non- borrowing accounts. In a city like Pasa- dena, where so many Easterners live on accumulated wealth, a branch may have from $5,000,000 to $10,000,000 more on deposit than it can loan locally. H. Parker Willis, former secretary of the Federal Reserve Board, who has made a detailed study of banking in California, says that the branch banks have merely taken away from the city correspondents the handling of the staple crops, while the independent unit banks across the street handle business suitable to their size, which is all they can do anyway without the help of the city correspondent. The owner of a fruit-packing house in a rural section of the same state told me that he requires about $125,000 to carry him through his rush season. ‘‘The difference between branch banking and what we used to have is that now we get the money im- mediately from the branch manager right here on the ground, while formerly we had to go to Los Angeles or San Francisco.” The former president of a little bank in another rural community in the same sec- tion told me that in order to keep the pack- ing houses, growers’ associations, water company, local utility and other enter- prises going, he was obliged to make con- stant trips to San Francisco and Chicago, passing the hat around, begging one city bank after another to take $75,000 of paper apiece. “Now,” he said “the whole community is financed almost automatically and as a matter of course by a couple of branch managers.” The history of the Bank of Italy is inextricably associated with the extensive orchard, vineyard and other farming opera- tions of the large Latin element in Cali- fornia’s population. Mr. Robinson’s bank is, if anything, even more frankly agri- cultural in its set-up, and is regarded as openly procoéperative. Its connection with the vast raisin industry is well known. The head of one coéperative even went so far as to tell me that this bank discourages farm- ing operations which are unfriendly to the coéperative movement. Between Theory and Practice There is no more preposterous assertion than that branch banking robs or skims money from the local rural communities to fatten the cities. The facts are just the reverse. Indeed, it is to be suspected that much of the opposition to branch banking comes from local bankers who are appalled by the amount of money which the branch institutions are able to lend in these smaller places. Outlying and rural communities are given what amounts to metropolitan service, not only in respect to loanable funds, but in the other departments of banking. Several thousand banks throughout the country now have investment and trust depart- ments, but whether the majority of small country banks are really competent to ac- cept trusts issomething of a question. Prob- ably most people feel more confidence in purchasing bonds or setting aside trust funds with a branch of a great city institution. But returning to the main issue, it might be technically or theoretically possible for a while for a city bank to skim or drain the country through its branches. Practically, however, it would be a ridiculous thing for a bank to wreck its own outlying area. Certainly if that were the intention of the branch banks of California, they would place mere tellers’ windows in the country towns and not man their branches, as they (Continued on Page 52)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NE LOWNESS—Only thigh- high for easy loading. NE COMFORT—The first truck cab and upholstery to give the driver the same comfort he could have in a Coupe. NE W POWER—For holding the pace on hill or heavy road. NEW ACCELERATION—To make the truck hold its own in passenger car traffic. NEW SPEED—For shortening miles on the straightaway, ’ for beating schedules in city traffic. ; a NE EASE OF HANDLING— Easy to stop with 4-wheel * internal-expanding brakes. Easy to steer with modern adjustable bevel pinion and sector steering gear. Easy to shift—oversize single plate clutch. * NEW COMPLETENESS— Crankcase ventilation, cg electric starter, Tilt-Ray headlights with switch on steering column, extra accessible tire carrier at rear under frame, speedometer, electric horn, etc., etc. MORE And even more of the ruggedness and dura- bility which have saved thousands © of dollars for former Speed Wagon ee oOupe In er owners. } REO MOTOR CAR COMPANY : Lansing, Michigan rAaAKES|S AD — ngines SPEED «WAGON

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tn te THESE SIMMONS GIFTS JUNE OCCASION THE girl graduate or the bridesmaid is thrilled with a Simmons Watch Bracelet ... the diploma or the usher at the wedding is delighted with a Simmons Chain. You have a wide range of beautiful designs to choose from when you ask to see an assortment of Simmons Chains and Bracelets. And any one you select will give years of service because it is made by the special Simmons process of drawing natural gold, green gold or white gold over a dtout base metal. Yet, with all this beauty in design, Simmons Chains and Bracelets are very reasonable in price .. . $4 to $15 for the chains and $6 up- wards for the bracelets, Ask your jeweler to show you the Bond- ftreet Chain, also the Slipon Beh Chain. The Bondétreet is winning everybody with its heavy links and the Slipon Belt Chain is “just the thing” when vests are not worn. R. F. Sim- mons Company, Attle- boro, Mass. SIMMONS LADS MAP CHAINS MEET EVERY | Flexible Bracelet or | THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 50) now do, with responsible, well-paid and well-informed managers. In an agricultural state like California, the future of cities such as San Francisco and Los Angeles is dependent upon the de- velopment and coéperation of surrounding areas. The cities will have very few fac- tories unless the great Sacramento, San Joaquin and Imperial Valleys are cared for. Agriculture in these valleys grows in- creasingly intensive, thus requiring more and more money. It can come only from the cities if the state is to stand up at all. There can be no such thing as skimming the country. I asked Mr. Giannini if his bank had been of any service to the hun- dreds of rural communities in his state. “Don’t ask me,” he wisely replied. ‘‘Go to these towns and make your own in- quiries. But I know what you will find. You'll find the people are glad we went in. Even the bankers are not so hostile after a while, because they find the whole line of deposits increases. The whole community grows.” The manager of a branch of another big system in one fruit district told me he was actually farming eighty of these fruit ranches—that is, he had loaned so much that it became necessary for the bank to operate the farms. Which is not very pleas- | ant for anyone, and perhaps not very wise young man getting his | for the bank in the first place, but pretty good evidence that the branch was not placed there merely to skim money out of the community. The Third Degree It is not uncommon for a single rural branch to be a million or even several mil- lion dollars overloaned—that is, with the local loans exceeding the local deposits. One bank, not as large as Mr. Giannini’s, was at one time overloaned about $20,000,- 000 in the rural areas. First-hand inquiry on the writer’s part in a number of rural communities brought the almost uniform | reply from ranchers and orchardists that | more money had been available since the branch system came in. This is not the usual picture of monopoly. The branch manager never has any ex- cuse for saying, as the head of the unit bank is forced to do now and then, “Sorry, but we are loaned up. Perhaps we can do something for you next week.” But it is alleged that branch banks do not lend to young men with no security but character, and who are just starting in busi- ness. I made inquiry of a young merchant in a small interior city, first learning that the firm which he had recently joined had been reorganized after a none-too-success- ful past. “I suppose branch banking is a bad thing,’”’ he said, “‘but I know nothing about it except here. Of course, it’s different here because Mr. ——-, manager of the Great Western Bank, is such a fine fellow. I’ve | only haf one experience with him. I went in and said that I wanted to ask him a ques- tion which admitted of only one of two answers: Yes or no.” “What did he say?”’ I urged. “He asked me how much. I replied that I needed $2500, and his only reply was to push a note at me and say, ‘Sign here.’”’ “Was that all?” I exclaimed in surprise, expecting, from the criticisms I had heard of branch banking, that any poor and youthful borrower would be put through a sort of police third degree at least. “Yes,”’ replied the merchant; ‘except he told me to give him a statement in a month or so. Of course he knew all about us anyway.” In another little city I wandered almost at random into a modern, well-equipped department store. I learned that the pro- prietors had had a serious misfortune not long before, but were doing well now. They expressed their opinion of branch banking in emphatic and cogent terms. ““My borrowing line is just twice what it was before the branches came in,” said one of them. “I wrote out a single check EVENING POST for $18,000 for fixtures alone for this new building. Before the city banks came in, the local people would have thought me crazy. I knew that to pay the overhead on this building I would have to increase my business by 20 per cent; but the fact is I have increased it nearly a third. “The directors of the local banks I’ve known lend a dollar if they are sure ten dol- lars are coming back. They see just as far as their noses. The directors of the big branch banks are not afraid to lend money, and the result is a growing community.” In one farming center the manager of the leading fruit-growers’ codperative asso- ciation told me he thought the branch banks made more character loans than the unit banks. As far as I could learn he was not a director or officer in either. There is no reason why a branch bank should not take good moral risks. It can carry them longer than the single unit banks, and absorb losses more readily. Because of diversification, losses should run smaller in proportion to loans. “T tell you it galls me sometimes when our unit competitor across the street tells the people, in big newspaper advertise- ments, to deal with home folks because only in that way can they get the personal touch,”’ said a branch manager in a farm- ing section. ‘‘Why, I can lend more money without turning around in my chair than they can by consulting their whole board of directors.” What critics of the branch idea seem to overlook is that branch managers are usually allowed toloan, without consulting the head office, as much as the legal limit of the bank before it became a branch, and sometimes more. In one farming center with which the writer is familiar the branch manager’s limit is at least $30,000. In what is perhaps the most important farming center in the state, where the population is about 60,000, the limit is $100,000. A branch manager in Pasadena told me he had just loaned $160,- 000 a few minutes before I entered his office. ‘And Los Angeles won’t know it until they get my report tomorrow morn- ing,’’ he added. In England, Scotland and Canada the effect of branch banking seems to be to iron out interest rates and prevent extreme variations. In general this seems to be the result in California, although proponents of the branch idea do not claim that it has reduced rates to any radical extent. The prevailing rate appears to be around 7 per cent. The extreme development of branches in these other countries is probably not suited to the United States. On the other hand there never seems to have been any question in Great Britain that the branch system equalizes rates and results in a shift- ing of funds from communities where they are not needed to places in want. The Home of Branch Banks It is said that the system has worked poorly in South Africa and Norway, but as to this the writer is not informed first-hand. With all the faults of the Canadian sys- tem, it seems to have responded quickly to the needs of an undeveloped country. Agencies are opened in tents in new mining camps, and Eastern cities, where interest rates are comparatively low, complain that the banks shift funds obtained there to the undeveloped Western sections. It is a ques- tion whether the great ice-bound Western and Northwestern stretches of Canada would have developed as much as they have without branch banking. Great Britain and Canada probably have more banks to the population than the United States, and offices are main- tained in villages smaller than any unit bank could exist in here. In extremely small villages in England, branches, or agencies, are kept open only two afternoons a week. But the community has city fa- cilities, whereas if there were no branch system it would have no facilities at all. The home of branch banking is Scot- land, and there is no country where the small customer has been better taken care June 11,1927 of. The personal credit, or cash credit, which has been so peculiar to Scotch bank- ing, has been of great aid to both farming and business. Thus far in this and a previous article the whole emphasis has been upon the serv- ice which a bank can render a community by lending money therein. But obviously a still greater service is the protection of the depositors’ money. If a bank fails and loses the depositors’ money, not to mention that of the stockholders, it has fallen short of its primary purpose, even though it may have temporarily aided some pet commu- nity enterprise. This point is too clear to require argument. Since 1920 there have been several thou- sand bank failures, mainly of small inde- pendent concerns, mostly in the Northwest, Central West and parts of the South. There were nearly 1000 failures in 1926 alone. Many failures took place in states having a deposit-guaranty law, which is evidently a slender reed to lean upon. A few small branch banks failed in Southern states. Most of these had only one or two branches, and could hardly be described as branch banks in the sense we have been discussing. The failures of chain banks were much more numerous. No large branch bank has failed in this country in recent times. Branches are sometimes closed if they prove unprofit- able, but, of course, that is much less se- rious than a failure. The Right to Fail No one argues that branch banks cannot fail. There was one rather serious failure in Canada several years ago, and a number went down in Australia in 1893, when panic conditions covered so much of the world. Under any banking system or form of legis- lation there is possibility of loss. Branch banks merely represent a system which has greater strength than the unit system. On the whole a large bank is stronger than a small one, and less subject to failure. The bank-failure liabilities per capita in Great Britain in the years 1900-1925 inclusive were $8.30, as compared with $31.80 in Canada and $55.90 in the United States. An adversary of branch banking has said the standard of the British system is safety first, last and all the time, whereas the criterion of the American unit system is enterprise and stimulus to growth. Even granting the second statement, one may ask whether the right to fail is a necessary part of enterprise and stimulus. It is true that extreme agricultural de- pression furnished the groundwork for recent epidemics of bank failures in the Central West. But failures have been most prevalent in the very sections where banks have been exceedingly small and admittedly too numerous in proportion to population. In 1920 North Dakota had one bank to 916 people and New York state had one bank to 31,000 people. Yet because of its lack of surplus wealth, North Dakota was the very place that needed big banks or branches of big banks. In old Eastern com- munities where values are stable a small bank can get along well enough. It takes a powerful institution to weather the vicissi- tudes of a new country. We have had a veritable mania for start- ing small banks in this country, especially in the West. The average size of the failed bank in the last few years has been only one- quarter that of banks in general, which is pretty good evidence of the cause of weak- ness. Failures have quite largely been con- centrated in sections where small banks abound. At one time some of these states chartered banks with capital as low as $5000. The whole system has been careless, slip- shod and haphazard. It may have the merits of independence and individualism, but even these virtues turn into vices when run mad. In any’period of farm prosperity or rising land values a perfect swarm of tiny new banks springs up. Almost any un- trained, inexperienced person can start a bank, and the last thing asked of him is (Continued on Page 55)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST a) EVROL oLET << i

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THAT'S obvious. It goes for any car— but the right kind of oil for other cars is the wrong kind of oil for Fords. More swollen operating costs, needless breakdowns, and preventable repairs come from using the wrong kind of oil in a Ford than from any other single cause. y ry y N ANY Ford owners think, and the idea costs money, that any fairly good motor-oil will lubricate the Ford correctly. It is just as reasonable to suppose that a Packard piston would operate smoothly in a Ford cylinder, as it is to assume that a motor-oil designed for other cars will satisfactorily solve the dual-problem of Ford lubrication. Lubrication engineers have proved that the Ford car requires not only a high- quality oil but a different £ind of oil, as well. The Ford Lubrication System § haw Ford engine and transmission are combined in one housing. Both units must be lubricated by the same oil. Yet each unit requires special charac- teristics in the lubricant. A high- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST can never run right with the wrong kind of O7@/ That is why your Ford requires more than a different grade of oil; it requires a different kind of oil—an oil that will do both lubrication jobs. Made for Fords exclusively FTER fouryears of study and experiment with the problem of Ford lubrication, Tide Water engineers perfected a different kind of oil for Fords. It is Veedol Forzol, the economy oil made for Fords exclusively. In Veedol Forzol, the widely different characteristics of a motor-oil and a trans- mission band lubricant have been success- fully combined. Of course, Veedol Forzol lubricates the Ford engine perfectly. But more than that—it also is the ideal lubri- cant for the Ford transmission, because it prevents destructive chatter and chassis vibration, and, by reducing the trans- mission friction, increases the ability of your Ford to coast. More than a million Ford owners now use Veedol Forzol and endorse it as no other oil for Fords has ever been endorsed. They have tested its quality and find that it actually gives these 8 definite economies in operation. The 8 economies of Veedol Forzol Veedol Forzol eliminates costly chatter; gives 10 to 25% saving in gasoline; gives 10 to 25% saving in oil; reduces carbon 10 to 25%; resists destructive heat and friction; resists fuel dilution; increases ability to coast; reduces repair bills. 7" is easy for you to get the benefit of these “8 economies.” Just stop next time you see the orange and black Veedol For- zol sign. Let the dealer drain your crank- case and refill with exactly four quarts of Veedol Forzol. Ask for Veedol Forzol by name. Tide Water Oil Sales Corpora- tion, 11 Broadway, New York. Branches or warehouses in all principal cities. June 11,1927 Today, more than a million Ford “3 y Btn use and endorse Veedol Forzol. They find that this economy oil for Fords reduces their operating costs 10 to 25%, TEST A GALLON TODAY A gallon of Veedol Forzol is the correct amount to pour into the breather pipe of your Ford after the crankcase has been drained. Your dealer can supply you with Veedol Forzol in a sealed one-gallon can. ©T.W.O.S.C. 1927 quality motor-oil will lubricate the Ford engine correctly—but not the transmission. And a lubricant de- signed primarily to lubricate the Ford transmission and prevent destructive band chatter would fail to lubricate the motor properly. EEDOL VEORZO The economy oil for Fords

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(Continued from Page 52) that he shall be a banker. Nor are the motives for starting such concerns always of the best. As the banking commissioner of one of the Western states has said, many men have started banks ‘‘more for the pur- pose of providing a job for themselves and a convenient place to borrow, than with any thought of serving a need in the com- munity or paying the stockholders a rea- sonable return.”’ It is significant that most of the banks which have failed were not members of the Federal Reserve System or of any clearing-house association. Great numbers of banks are so small that they cannot handle the more profitable accounts. Business is on a different scale and plan than in earlier days, and the ex- tension of credit should also be on a differ- ent scale. A $25,000 bank is really only a $15,000 bank as compared with prewar values. The eggs of the little bank are too often in one local basket, its business is one- sided, and its officers are not always trained to distinguish between current and per- manent capital requirements. We do not know that because branch banking has been successful in California, it would necessarily succeed in states like Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, Minnesota and THE SATURDAY the Dakotas. These states do not present quite the diversity of crops, and conditions differ in other ways. Yet there would prob- ably have been fewer failures in the North- west if the larger St. Paul and Minneapolis banks had had branches in the rural sec- tions. It is a question whether economic pres- sure for larger capital resources will not gradually extend the limits of branch bank- ing. If this tendency is dammed up arti- ficially by legal enactments there is almost certain to be a marked development of chain banking, which has all the faults and none of the merits of the branch system. Already a bootleg form of branch bank- ing, by means of holding companies and other subterfuges, has got well under way in various parts of the country. One of the largest of these chains failed in the South last year. Chain banking lacks the features of openness and responsibility that go with branch banking. It is doubtful public policy to permit banks to operate sepa- rately when ownership is identical. Chain or holding-company banking lends itself more readily to stock manipulation and speculative excesses than the more open, recognized forms. Its growth is to be de- plored. EVENING POST Probably the next ten or twenty years will witness marked changes in banking in this country. Mr. Giannini, chief exponent of country-wide branches, says there should be a branch in every village big enough to support a motion-picture theater and a drug store. It should, he adds, perform services for the public not now handled by banks, such as title insurance and perhaps other forms of insurance. He believes that banks should serve the public much as do depart- ment stores, and should in turn be owned by the public—that is, by tens of thou- sands of stockholders, after the fashion of the great utility companies. This is the day of the so-called common people, and Mr. Giannini says he owes his success to hundreds of thousands of men and women of moderate means. These ideas may be wise or unwise. There is no space here to discuss them. The newer developments in banking may pro- duce their own weaknesses or abuses. But this much is certain: In a land of change like the United States, banking as well as other institutions will not escape transitions of its own. Editor’s Note— This is the second of two articles by Mr. Atwood TICK-TOCK, TICK-TOCK “Don’t you feel any sympathy?” I asked in surprise, for, in spite of the fact I had just started training my imagination, I had experienced a marked sorrowful emotion while observing the case. “Sympathy? Ha-ha. Why, I am inter- ested just as I would be in an insect under a microscope, but sympathy with stray neu- rotics is not in my line. I am a business psychologist, Mr. Ennis, and my psychology spells dollars—honest dollars, but dollars.”’ He laughed a little more. “If you feel, though, that the young lady needs help, go ahead and help her. Follow my methods and little by little you will cultivate her confidence in her fellow men, or anyhow one of them.”’ He laughed again. Following her at a convenient distance, we turned the corner about fifty yards in the rear, to observe her entering a select boarding house on a cross street. “There’s your future pupil,’ said the professor with another laugh. ‘Go to it. You'll learn more about imagination by teaching than by studying, and it won’t cost you a cent, on the contrary. Butt right in and introduce yourself as my stu- dent assistant. I'll back you up.” That night I woke from the following dream: I was patting a young girl on the back and saying in an emotional and imagi- native way, “There, there, sweetie, every- thing will be all right and I will cultivate your imagination in the tick of a clock. Leave it to Jasper.’’ And the young lady was not Willa. qi DO not have to say that I had no in- tention of butting in as suggested, though I will admit spending some time wondering if I knew anybody who could help me out. Thus I was agreeably sur- prised when the next morning Professor Smith, on his way to Mr. Burfield, stopped at my desk and said, “‘ Here is a chance to improve the shining hour, Mr. Ennis. Last night at the hotel I ran into a party who lives at that boarding house and this morn- ing I made the young lady’s acquaintance over the telephone. She was very lachry- mose when she discovered that I was a psychological expert and seemed delighted when I told her about you. So go to it, professor.”’ Twenty-four hours previous if anybody had asked me did I feel competent to give lessons in applied psychology and develop- ment of the imagination, I would have re- plied, ‘‘Certainly not.” But my success in cultivating my own had been such that now I did not hesitate. Having eaten a sand- wich on the way, I arrived at the boarding (Continued from Page 15) house a little after twelve and was shown into a small parlor. A minute later Miss Violet Mavis—for that was her name greeted me. “Well,” I said after a little preliminary conversation about the weather and what the lessons should cost and she insisted on a dollar a lesson, though I offered to give same for nothing, “I want you to close your eyes and imagine you can trust me.” She closed her eyes as requested, and the lesson began. ‘‘I am trying hard,” she said after a minute. “I would like nothing bet- ter than to trust you, but in all my life I have never trusted anybody. That is why it is so difficult for me to start now.” She repeated this statement more than once, her beautiful sad eyes filling with tears. And though I did my best, the only progress observable was that she seemed to suspect me a little less at the end than at the beginning, though this was not saying much. And if I had not used my imagina- tive gift to the fullest extent I would not have been able to accept her dollar with a clear conscience. “Well,” said Willa that evening, “have you gained the big-value reward offered for solving the mysterious ad, or are you still tick-tocking?” With a sudden burst of constructive imagination I replied as follows: ‘Yes, Willa, I have solved the problem. I have imagined Jasper to be the last name of a man at the head of a large enterprise with offices in the second story of a big down- town building. He is a business man and philanthropist of the highest type and has often helped a poor old man by the name of Sweetser. Owing to an accident to the card index, Mr. Sweetser has not received his last check, and therefore he put this ad in the paper to suggest to Mr. Jasper that he is waiting. And the typesetter, unable to read Mr. Sweetser’s rheumatic handwrit- ing, printed the name as ‘Sweetie.’”’ “That is splendid, Jasper. Now lean back and let me put a sofa pillow under your head, because you must be tired out.” My response to this sarcastic stuff was another effort of the imagination, the result of a sudden thought. ‘“‘T may as well tell you, Willa,” I went on, laughing easily, “‘that what I said just now is partly fact. The other day I met an old man named Sweetser who is badly crippled by rheumatism and I have been going around noons and reading him opti- mistic literature because he is much dis- couraged about his life at present.” The rest of the evening passed in a disagreeable manner, with Willa doing a tick-tock every time I would stop to think of something to say. I was glad when the time came for me to go. But if Willa was not acting friendly, other parties were changing for the better. It was astonishing to observe what imagination was doing for Mr. Burfield. He was six feet three inches high and very large around the chest and hitherto, as stated, had always given the impres- sion of being extremely hard-boiled. But Wednesday morning he was all smiles, and when the collector for the Community Chest called he left Mr. Burfield’s office with his head high in the air, a thing he had not done for three years. “*Violet,”’ I said that noon, for I was now calling Miss Mavis by her first name, “‘ you have no idea of the wonders imagination is working on others and how happy you will be when you get to trusting your fellow man.” But though she showed great interest in all I said and was willing to close her eyes and make the mental effort directed, at the end of the hour she remarked with tears trembling on her long eyelashes, “‘I am sorry, Jasper, but though I trust you a lit- tle more, I cannot say I have made any great progress.” “There is nothing to be done except to continue along the same lines,” said the professor that afternoon. Thus I continued though I could not sleep well nights as a result of always thinking about Violet's unfortunate case; her sad inability to trust others and the harrowing history of her un- happy childhood in Nevada. It was Friday noon when by chance I made a sensational discovery, verbally confirmed by Violet herself, who admitted its truth in a burst of tears. “Professor Smith,”’ I said Friday after- noon, when he stopped at my desk after having given a lesson to Mr. Burfield, “I have found out something in the case of Miss Mavis.” ““What is it, Mr. Ennis?”’ he asked, seat- ing himself and leaning toward me in a confidential manner. “The first thing I have found out, pro- fessor, is the reason why this poor girl does not trust anybody. When she was an or- phan and living with her aunt and uncle in Nevada, she was wrongfully accused by the former of having stolen some sugar. She had always trusted everybody until this sad occasion, but since her aunt went back on her, and the aunt was drunk at the time, she has never trusted anybody.” “This is very important, Mr. Ennis. Here you have the clew to her strange i ' Send data on Paging System a instant decision needed and the man with the necessary information missing—away from his desk—lost within the walls of his own business. It is happening every minute of every business day. Eliminate it in your or- ganization. Make every im- portant individual instant- ly available anywhere with- in your walls. Install an Autocall —mechani- cal finder of men. SERVICE we e BL FIRE ATCH | Paging \Siwu Ngan Systems “ a cer” are one of three electric sig- nalling systems (see coupon) perfected by T he Autoc all Company to protect your three business assets—time, property and human life. Send for com- plete details—or have an Auto- call Protection Engineer from the our 16 of- fices call on you at your place of business. 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Merton Caps and Knickers to match are sold by the better dealers everywhere. MERTON Write for the new Merton aumento style booklet. Free, of course. CHARLES-S;MERTON-&-CO 210 FIFTH AVE. §= NEW YORK THE SATURDAY behavior. But I can see you have some- thing else to tell me.” “Yes, professor, but if I had not acci- dentally stumbled across her private scrap- book full of newspaper clippings, I would never have discovered same. The reason Miss Mavis is so worried about not being able to trust anybody is because circum- stances will soon force her to trust a great | many different people.” “How is that, Mr. Ennis?” “It is a remarkable story, professor. The first point to note is that Mavis is merely her middle name. Her real name is Dug- more. She calls herself Mavis to avoid newspaper notoriety.” “Wait a minute, Mr. Ennis. It seems to me I remember some sensation about a party in Nevada named Dugmore. Wasn’t he a lone-hand bandit?” “No, professor, her uncle, James R. Dugmore, better known as Alkali Jim, dis- | covered the Golden Vision Mine shortly before being bit on the left leg by a rattle- snake. At the time her aunt was having delirium tremens, with fatal results, and thus the girl, once an orphan depending on charity, suddenly became one of the great- est heiresses in America.” Professor Smith leaned back in his chair and looked extremely thoughtful. “But here is where the most astonishing part comes in,”’ I continued. ‘‘This poor girl, having spent an unhappy childhood, has a deep sympathy for all other unhappy chil- dren. Therefore she is going to distribute her immense fortune to alleviate the un- necessary sufferings of unfortunate little ones. And she is now looking for persons she can trust, to help her distribute the money; but, though she has spent six months looking, as yet she has found no one. Of course, the psychological reason for this is that she cannot trust anybody. | That is her secret.” For a minute Professor Smith drummed his fingers on the table, then placing his hands in his pockets, he sat up very straight. “Ennis, I know you well enough to be frank with you. Children, as you may sup- pose, don’t interest me in the least. Noth- ing much interests me deeply except my own job. But I can say that even if I am | out for the dollars, I prefer honest dollars. Do you follow me?” “Not exactly,” I said. “Then let me make it plainer. With the information you have given me I suppose I could swindle this poor girl out of her last cent—if I felt like it. And I could excuse myself by saying that if I didn’t, somebody else would. But I have no wish to be con- sidered a crook. Now, then, I have reached a point where this roving existence as a professor of applied psychology no longer interests me. I want to settle down. Suppose I win this girl’s gratitude by curing | her; suppose she appoints me as one of the administrators of her fortune; wouldn’t it | be for the best interests of all? Don’t you The COLLEGE, a | think I am capable of administering her fortune honestly?” “Yes,”’ I said. ‘How are you going to cure her?” The professor laughed again. “Ennis, you have given me the clew in that little story of her unhappy early life. I know what is wrong with her and how to cure it. Listen.” I had eaten practically no lunch that | he had to say, I was too excited to eat even a mouthful. Instead I walked up and down the streets, sometimes stopping to pat a stray child on the head, but always wondering how I would be able to explain to Willa so she would see I was acting in her best interests as well as my own. Probably I would not have been able to get Willa to agree to the plan if I had not previously had my imagination cultivated, but before ten o’clock that evening, by the use of this psychological gift, I had received her necessary signature. Midnight had passed before I finally fell asleep, happy and excited over my future prospects, because I EVENING POST had now made all preliminary arrange- ments to enable me to share with Professor Smith the task of distributing Violet’s for- tune. Iv T WAS a little before Saturday noon when I left the bank and, as per agree- ment of evening previous, showed up at the office where Willa worked. “Well, old Self-Improvement,’”’ she said, ‘‘ how is our little optimist this morn- ing?” “*Oh, all right,’ was my cautious reply. “And do you think Mr. Sweetser is get- ting worse hour by hour?” “Yes,” I said with dignity and imagina- tion; “at ten o’clock I received a telephone message saying he was delirious. But even in his delirium his fixed idea is the same as I explained last evening. He keeps saying, ‘If I could only put my hands into my trousers pocket and feel a big roll there, I could imagine myself back in the old days when I was so rich and so happy!” “Ts he wearing his trousers in bed?” “No, Willa, he is speaking figuratively. But he wants to handle a wad of money for the last time before passing on to a better world. That is why, when not calling pathetically for me, he is watching the clock.” “Why watch it, Jasper? Why not listen instead? Listening to a well-regulated clock is practically the same as reading a newspaper, because it goes ——”’ “Willa,” I said, interrupting this sarcas- tic line, ‘‘ please do not kid the state of poor old Mr. Sweetser. And if you do not wish me to use your share of our money as a temporary loan to soothe his last moments, I will be glad to give it back to you now.” “No, Jasper,” she said, ‘“‘I want todo my bit. Let us go and smooth his dying pillow together.” With a final effort of the imagination, I answered, “I am very sorry, Willa, but that is impossible. Mr. Sweetser had a wife who died when she was very young and since then he has never spoken to any woman ‘whatever. If you should come into his room it might be fatal.” “Tn that case, Jasper, I will stay away. But for goodness’ sake don’t lose that money. Here; let me put it in an en- velope.”’ As half of the nine hundred and eighty dollars belonged to her, I decided to let Willa have her way. Taking an envelope from the desk, she placed the bills within, and then sealing it, wrote my name and ad- dress on the outside, drying the ink with a large blotter. Picking up the envelope on the table, and with a hasty kiss behind the door, which was not returned, I walked out of the office wiping the perspiration from my brow. At the corner the professor was waiting. “Well, Ennis,”’ he said in a brisk, hard- boiled voice, “there will be one less neurotic in the world when we get through with the young lady whose imagination has turned sour on her.” “Yes,” was my reply, “but I hope you will not say anything rough to the case, be- cause she has had a very unhappy child- hood and is still sensitive about it.” “Ennis, what your young friend needs is not sympathy but a few home truths, and believe me, she will respect the man who tells them. I understand her condition and you will see that everything will turn out exactly as I predicted last evening. Put your sympathy on ice and save it for an- other occasion.” I said no more, and a few minutes later we were in the little boarding-house parlor conversing with Violet. ‘*My friend and assistant Mr. Ennis,” began the professor, “‘has told me some- thing of your unfortunate experience as a child. Would you just as soon recount them again for my benefit?” Tears quivered on her long lashes as, bowing her head, she began her life’s story. Starting, she told how her parents had died when she was but five years old and how she had been adopted by her aunt, Mrs. Dugmore of Nevada. And the first thing June 11,1927 this aunt did was to hand her an old flour sack. “There is your dress,”’ said the aunt. “Cut holes for your arms and put it on.”’ And so saying she ripped the regular little dress from the poor child’s back and sold it to buy a bottle of whisky. “What?” I said, turning suddenly, for the professor was standing behind me and I thought he had made a remark. “‘T’m just blowing my nose,” he snapped. “‘T suppose a man has the right to blow his own nose without being asked to explain his actions.””’ And with this he walked to the window, and during the rest of the story re- mained looking out on the street. Violet went on, telling how all through her childhood she was practically the same as a slave, always having to wash all dishes and, whenever she dropped one, being struck repeatedly with a blunt instrument. And finally, how she was accused of stealing sugar and received such a terrible beating that she had to lie on a heap of rags for a week. Well, I am just human and have never claimed to be hard-boiled, and, moreover, it was the first time I had heard the complete story. And when Violet related such in- cidents as how her aunt would drive her out of the house barefooted on a winter’s night or catch her by her golden curls and throw her across the room, I had to keep bringing my arm up and pretend to scratch my head in order to wipe away my tears. But I was certainly surprised at the effect of this story on Professor Smith. He had come into the house with his usual cynical and hard-boiled air, but when he turned from the window his face looked as if it had been recently convulsed and his eyes were red and there was a tear alongside his nose. And after speaking a few words, he had to stop and gulp. “Miss Mavis,” he said with difficulty, “‘I have been listening to your story with a great deal of interest. I believe your trou- ble results from a psychical distortion of facts. You think, honestly enough, that you can trust nobody. Miss Mavis, please do not be offended, but is it not true that ever since the episode of that stolen sugar you have felt that nobody trusts you? Is not this your real fear?’’ What happened next, though pretty much as the professor had predicted it, hap- pened so suddenly that it took away my breath. For a moment Violet stood there, tears streaming from her beautiful eyes and her hands across her chest. Then she said in a strangled voice, ‘‘ Yes, you are right. And why should I lie and try to conceal the facts? Yes, my real trouble is—and I see it all rlow—is that I know there is no living soul ori earth who trusts me.”’ Her voice raised while her eyes grew larger and more desperate. ‘And why should anyone trust me? I ama thief, and I might as well ad- mit it sooner as later. More than once when I was a child I would go to my aunt’s cupboard and steal a crust of bread and gnaw it to soothe the hunger pangs that gnawed at my stomach. Yes, and I lied about the sugar; I did steal it; and once a thief, alwaysa thief. Sowhy should anyone trust me, rich as I am? Oh, don’t look at me like that. I never meant to do wrong. I was so hungry. Oh, why should I live to be so humiliated? Oh, I wish I were dead.”’ In spite of our mutual lachrymosity, the professor and I moved quick enough to grab Violet from each side, thus preventing her from dashing out her brains against the wall. At first she struggled desperately, but little by little she calmed down and remained in our hands quietly sobbing. “Little girl,’’ said the professor, and you could hardly make out his voice, it was so strangled, “little girl, Mr. Ennis and I know you are above reproach. We trust you. Personally I am going to prove it by placing in your hands three thousand five hundred dollars—all the money I have in the world. I want you to walk out of the house with that money, because I know yes, I know—that in ten minutes you will bring every cent back.” (Continued on Page 58)

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Arnold Shoe Company, North Abington, Mass., and we will introduce you to him and to ARNOLD GLOVE-GRIP SHOES The Nanette (Continued from Page 56) She stood there the same as a person in a dream. “No, no,” she said in a voice so low you could hardly hear her. ‘‘ No, don’t give me false hopes. Don’t be cruel to me and tell me what isn’t true.”’ “Tt is true,” said the professor, gulping and forcing a large roll of bills into her hands and then placing her hat on her head and helping her into her coat. ‘‘ We trust you to the limit. Take this, and in ten min- ’ utes you will bring it back to the last cent. I know you will.” She did not seem to be able to speak and the last look she gave us from the hall was pitiful. The door closed and the professor collapsed. “Ennis,” he said, trying to hold back his lachrymatory activities, but not succeed- ing, ‘‘I thought I was cynical and hard, but I find I am just like anybody else. When I think of what that poor little girl has suf- fered ——”’ He stopped. “That is just the way I feel about it,”’ I said, when I could speak. “Ennis,” he remarked between sobs, ‘‘when I consider her case I am glad I am not as hard-boiled as I thought I was. And I am unspeakably grateful that we have found her in time to turn her morbid imagination into useful lines.” I did not say anything, because I was crying quietly and trying to wipe away the tears so they would not be too noticeable. “Seven minutes have gone,” said the professor, taking out a new handkerchief. “IT would not look out of the window and try to spy on her, for all the money in the world. We are going to cure her by trusting her.”’ We sat there wiping our eyes until nine and a half minutes had passed. ‘She has a wrist watch,” said the profes- sor, ‘and though she wants to wait the full ten minutes, wild horses could not keep her from being punctual. I cannot hear her, but she is just about to mount the front steps. There! She is opening the door. She is here.”’ The feelings I had had before were noth- thing to those which overwhelmed me when Violet, running in from the hall, ran to Professor Smith and, with tears coursing down her cheeks, kissed him violently three times. “You trusted me,” she said to the profes- sor, “you trusted me.” And resting her beautiful head on his shoulder she kissed him again. “ And I trust you too,” I said, forcing the envelope into her hands. “I have always trusted you.” Dropping her arms from the professor's neck, she said, “‘Do you mean you are will- ing to trust me in the same way?” “Yes,” I said, controlling my emotion and imagination as well as possible, ‘‘ yes— nine hundred and eighty dollars—all I have in the world—come back in ten min- utes. I trust you.”” And with these words I practically shoved her out into the hall and closed the door behind her. “Ennis,” said the professor, crossing the room and shaking me by the right hand, “I am not a man given to spilling over, but I want to say that your action just now is the finest thing I have ever seen in my life, and I am glad I advised you to take your money out of the bank for the purpose. You can be sure you will have her gratitude forever- more, because your gesture has wiped away every trace of those blighting suspicions that have been ruining her life.” “She is at the corner,”’ I said presently, wiping away my tears and letting my imag- ination take its course. “Waiting anxiously,” added the profes- sor, ‘‘and from time to time looking at her wrist watch.” “And she is crying a little.” “Yes, yes, Ennis, but she can’t help that. She feels so grateful to you.” When eleven minutes had passed the pro- fessor got up. “I hope she has not met with an accident. Wait here, Ennis, I will be back immediately.” I waited. At the end of ten minutes the maid called me to the telephone. ’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Ennis,” said the professor’s voice, “ pre- pare for a little bad news. Miss Mavis has met with an accident. She was standing at the corner, when, trying to escape a skid- ding auto, she sprained her ankle. I didn’t want to worry you, so I had her taken to the nearest doctor’s. He is fixing up the ankle now, but it is a long and painful job. She says, ‘Tell Jasper to wait forme. I am so grateful and I want to thank him in the little room where he trusted me.’”’ I had just started to ask the doctor’s ad- dress when the professor rang off. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I re- turned to the little parlor and paced up and down and listened to the clock, which seemed to say, “Jasper: Tick-tock, tick- tock. Sweetie.” At 2:30 I had just decided to try to locate the doctor’s office when a step sounded without; the doorbell rang, and a moment later the maid opened the parlor door. My heart had practically stopped beating, be- cause I thought it was the professor return- ing with more bad news. But what was my surprise to see Mr. Burfield. “Well, well, Ennis,”” he said in a husky voice and pacing up and down the room, “‘I didn’t expect to find you here.” “No,” I said, not feeling much like con- versation. “T suppose you are waiting here to see someone.” ““Yes,”’ was my reply. “T am waiting to see someone myself.” And with this he pulled out a handkerchief and made as if he was wiping his forehead instead of his eyes. “IT don’t imagine, Ennis,” he said in the same strange voice, “that you have ever thought much about the unhappy children in the world today.” “T have often thought about them,” I remarked, turning my face away from the light to hide my emotion. “The crimes against childhood, Ennis, are the worst crimes that a despicable wretch could commit.” “You are right, Mr. Burfield,” I as- sented in as clear a voice as possible. ‘‘ You are right.” ““We ought to look out for unhappy chil- dren, Ennis, and in the future I am going to do my share.” I nodded, but was unable to say more, being overcome by imaginative emotions of a lachrymose nature. “We should try to understand others, Ennis, and feel for them in their troubles. That is where imagination comes in. Imag- ination rules the world.” I nodded again, but did not speak for reasons mentioned above. “Tf it had not been for Professor Smith’s training I would never have been able to appreciate the sad case of a remarkable young girl I met recently, whose life, though practically as pure as the undriven snow, has been transformed by her imag- ination into a living hell.” “Yes,” I said, being able to pronounce this syllable. “T will be frank with you, Ennis. I am waiting here for her now. She felt nobody trusted her, so I trusted her. She said she would be here in an hour. She is probably at the corner waiting. Maybe she is look- ing at her wrist watch. Presently she will come in full of gratitude and ——” I felt like I had been struck by a flash of lightning. In one single instant my entire life passed before my eyes, including in- cidents of the last few days, which now took on a new and depressing significance. And in that instant I understood all, and wished that the house would stop revolving and collapse and bury me under the ruins. When once more I came to myself I was still sitting in the chair as before and Mr. Burfield was still walking up and down and talking. Probably not more than a couple of seconds had gone by, but it seemed to me as if all that had previously happened that afternoon had taken place the day before. “Mr. Burfield,” I interrupted, “‘I would like to ask you a couple of questions.” “What is it, Ennis?”’ he said, wiping his eyes. June 11,1927 “Mr. Burfield, when curing that girl, how much did you trust her with and what was her first name?”’ He looked surprised. “I don’t know that it’s anyone’s business, but as I am not ashamed of what I have done, I don’t mind telling you. Her first name is Violet and I left her alone in my office with five thou- sand dollars in currency.” “Mr. Burfield,” I said, “at a little before one o’clock this afternoon I restored the confidence of a girl named Violet, and as near as I can make out it is going to cost me nine hundred and eighty dollars. I am thinking of calling up the police.” Right there I stopped and, after a couple of pertinent questions, Mr. Burfield started. He had always been a good free- hand talker, but now, with apt imagina- tion’s artful aid, he surpassed anything I had ever heard him say in the past. As he went on expressing himself, you could hear the doors slamming and screams from up- stairs as various lady boarders went into hysterics. But his most imaginative re- marks Mr. Burfield saved for his conversa- tion over the telephone with the chief of police. The tears had stopped running down his face, which had got to be as red as a toy balloon; but this was the only way it resembled that article. Never in my en- tire experience have I seen a face harder- boiled. And he kept yelling to the chief, with adjectives which I will omit: ‘I don’t care whether you think she is Weeping Sadie or Waterworks Lizzie! I tell you I am not interested in your pipe dreams! I want action! I want action!” Vv DID not wish to face Willa, but I could not think of any way out. The result was that three hours later I was telling her the entire story, without concealment or subterfuge. “So that is the way it hap- pened,” I ended, “‘and that is the way I have lost all our money.” “No, Jasper,”’ said Willa, “you didn’t lose it, because you never had the chance. Don’t try to figure it out. Just reassure yourself that though I have never culti- vated my imagination I have too much ever to trust you with more than carfare and lunch money. When Miss Sweetser Mavis Dugmore’ Boobcatcher opened that switched envelope all she found inside was two five-dollar bills wrapped around a part of the legacy left by my lamented grand- father. Maybe she can sell those Confed- erate notes to a museum; it is all right with me. And here is the original envelope with our joint savings practically intact.” Unable to believe my ears, I stood there while she counted out my four hundred and ninety doilars less five. “There you are, Jasper, and now if I were you I should look around and see if, with the aid of my imagination, I could not find somebody selling gold bricks or rutabaga wells. By the way, are you waiting for something? I hope you don’t expect me to pay interest for taking care of your money this afternoon.” I turned to go, feeling as if I had lost my last friend and also as if some of the tears I had shed during the afternoon would come in handy now. But there was nothing doing. “T do not want to seem to advise you, Jasper,”’ she said as I reached the door, “but if I were you I should take that imagination you have so carefully culti- vated and put it away in moth balls. Some- thing tells me that in the future Mr. Bur- field will be off imagination of all kinds. The only possible use you can have for yours will be on certain social occasions.” “What do you mean by that, Willa?”’ I asked, turning back. “For the moment, Jasper, I am so sore that I feel I never want to set eyes on you again. But if, say, a week from tonight, you should drop around and I should re- mark in a casual way, ‘Jasper: tick-tock, tick-tock ——’”’ She stopped. “Well,”’ I asked, “‘what should I do?” “Use your imagination.” And I did.

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60 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 1, 1927 al ise, ol aa Health | Products,

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THE SATURDAY day at school, when Mildred’s long golden curls had won her admiration. Neverthe- less, it did seem ironic that Ernestine, of all people, should suddenly renew her de- votion in order to further some scheme of her own. All the time that these thoughts were rac- | ing through her mind Mildred was listen- | ing charmingly to the blond man’s tedious description of his recent trip to Italy: “Of course, the women didn’t know where to get black veils at such a late hour, and we were told they wouldn’t be allowed in the Vatican without them, so we thought we'd have to give it up; but then they told | us that after you had been granted an This is the seal | adopted by the Greeting Card Association The members compris- ing the Association seek | to employ the best artists, the best writers, the best audience you were obliged to go, so we de- cided ——”’ Fortunately at this moment Ernestine turned to the man on her left and in the general movement to follow her example Mildred lost the further details. But in | spite of her eagerness to talk to Peters, she did not forget to make the tiresome man think she was turning away from him with reluctance. “You must tell me the rest of it after dinner,”’ she said, even as she vowed to herself that she would never talk to him again as long as she lived. Then she looked up at Peters. ‘‘ What have you two been talking about?” To her amusement, he dissembled. ‘Oh, | hunting and farming and all sorts of pro- | saic things. I heard your partner going strong on the Eternal City.” She was further interested to know that he, too, had eavesdropped. ‘I wonder why it is,” she said, ‘‘that other people’s con- versations, if heard in snatches, are apt to sound so alluring—just the way if you read | a newspaper over someone’s shoulder it al- minds to create their ways seems to have fascinating things in | it which you can never find even though product, so as to enable you truly to scatter sun- shine with Greeting Cards. Perhaps not every merchant who sells cards | you buy the same paper.” She kept the conversation on this im- personal level until the end of dinner. There were two maxims of her father’s which had contributed much to her success with men. One was: ‘“There’s nothing a man hates | worse than to be forced to keep on paying compliments to a woman all evening just because he’s been foolish enough to say one nice thing to her in the beginning.”’ The other, she now thought, was even more val- uable in dealing with Peters: ‘‘No man likes an easy job. The more attracted he | is, the more difficult it should be.” manufactured by the members of the Greeting Card Association will When the men joined the women in the drawing-room after dinner Mildred mo- tioned to Herman Tupster to sit in the big chair beside her. “I haven't seen you for ages,” she said, even while she observed out | of the corner of her eye that both Peters | and Randolph, who were the last of the six display this Seal, but wherever it is shown you will find a complete as- sortment of Greeting Cards for all occasions —cards to meet social obligations promptly — cards to keep friendships warm. Scatter Sunshine | with Greeting Cards men to come in, looked disappointed at finding her occupied. Tupster was a red-faced, black-haired young man in the early thirties with a | Rabelaisian sense of humor, coarse man- ners and an unusual background of good breeding. He talked like a stableboy, but because | his family connections were so excellent everyone said he was like an eighteenth- century country squire. Mildred usually avoided him, but tonight she was willing to sacrifice personal comfort. “You're a likely looking wench!” he be- gan. ‘What are you doing—angling for | old Peters?” This was so near the truth that for the | second time that night Mildred felt herself | blush. ““Of course I am,” she answered. “Doesn't his farm adjoin yours?” “You wouldn’t waste five minutes on me, and I know it.”” He looked at her with ardent admiration. “But keep on saying it. There’s honey in your voice. . . . Uh-huh, my wife is looking at us now. She’s pretending to vamp Randolph, but she’s really wondering what the devil we’re saying. She thinks you’re a siren. Are you?” EVENING POST EXPLORATION (Continued from Page 23) “ Absolutely—only I can’t sing.”” He shouted with laughter. Peters, who had been strolling around the room, came toward them now. ‘‘ What's the joke?” “You'll never know!’’ Tupster turned deliberately to Mildred. ‘There ought to be a law against you. If I was a wife I'd never let you in my house. I'll bet you’ve broken up more homes—not to mention hearts.” “Oh, don’t worry!’ she said. “I never do it on Fridays. That’s my day off.” Peter’s eyes sparkled. ‘‘ You'll never get anywhere with her, young man.” “‘ And neither will you.”” Herman folded his arms and contempiated his patent- leather shoes. When he spoke he looked at Mildred, although his words were ad- dressed to Peters. “‘ Besides, you've got to be a lot more careful than I have, because I’ve got the protection of a loyal wife.” “Oh, is that why you’re so fond of her?”’ Mildred’s eyes were wide open. “Yes, you’d be surprised, you little country mouse, to find how useful a wife can be to a philandering male. I’ve never been able to see how you could get along so well without one, Hadley.” “No, I suppose you couldn’t.”” Peters drew up a chair on the other side of Mildred. “*What are you going to do tomorrow night, do you know?” She noted the significance of this ques- tion as a personal matter, even while she saw that it gave her an excellent opening to introduce Ernestine’s plot. ‘‘Some friend of Randolph's is coming out—an ex- plorer named Bill Bromley.” “Oh, the fellow that wants to fly to the North Pole!’’ Tupster was interested at once. ‘He has a bully record. Was an ace during the war and has done lots of things since. I didn’t know Randie knew him. Hope he'll bring him over to our place Sunday.” “You're all dining with me Sunday night.” Peters’ tone was anything but hospitable; it sounded as if he’d be glad to recall Herman’s invitation if he could. “You can see him then.” It seemed to Mildred that it was time to change the subject. She got up. “Er- nestine wants us to play bridge.” As Peters moved away Herman glanced significantly at his back, then whispered to Mildred. “I’m going to give orders to- morrow to have every single fence taken down between his farm and mine!’’ When they reached the card table he said aloud: “T refuse to play with this woman. She’s so lucky at love tonight she couldn’t pos- sibly win at cards.” But in spite of his prophecy, Mildred stuffed bills and checks aggregating more than two hundred dollars into her gold- and-platinum mesh bag when the reckon- ing came at the end of the evening. The next morning, when she rang for breakfast, she was conscious that the evening had been highly successful in every way. Yet as the day wore on she grew superstitious again about the piling up of so much good fortune. “I must be careful,”’ she said to herself several times, although there seemed noth- ing about which carefulness was needed. She and Ernestine played nine holes of golf, then lunched at the country club, where Randolph was playing in a tourna- ment. It was a warm sunshiny day, the grass was green, everyone was in a_ perfect humor, and it seemed to Mildred that life would be perfect if one could choose a whole calendarful of days like this. But before the men came in she had to go back to the Draper house to meet the decorator who was coming to look over the south guest room. “T think I'll stay here and wait for Ran- die.’’ Ernestine settled herself in a wicker chaise longue and picked up a fashion magazine. ‘“ Anyway, I’d rather leave it all June 11,1927 to you. Your taste is—what’s that word? impeachable?”’ “No, darling; impeccable, I hope. right, I’ll attend to it.’ Mildred signaled to the chauffeur. As she put one foot on the running board, the noise of an aero- plane caused her to look up; a dark-winged machine specked the blueness of the sky. “Oh, that reminds me—if Bill Bromley turns up before we get home give him tea, won’t you?” “Right!” The man slammed the door and Mildred waved a hand to her hostess. It was probably her aggrieved feeling at being obliged to go indoors and work when everyone else was outside, amusing themselves, that caused Mildred to quarrel with Steinchen for the first time. She had met him at the station, taken him up to the house and shown him the room in question, with the request that he decorate it exactly as he had done her bedroom. This seemed simple enough and she had thought he would be delighted with the order. But instead of showing any appre- ciation, he merely pulled at his short flaxen mustache and said, “I cannot duplicate your room here. Yours isa city room; this is a country house. I shall originate some- thing here.” “No, you won’t. Mrs. Draper wants a room just like mine.” “T shall do something very nice in this room—very unusual. The walls shall be yellow, the furniture some very beautiful old carved walnut. Spanish furniture, I think I can get.” “You’ve had that Spanish stuff in your shop for years!”’ “TI think you have never seen in my studio the furniture I mean.’’ The more coldly deliberate his tones became, the more she desired to lose her temper and tell him that she knew he was lying. His light blue eyes were regarding her with hostility. “Perhaps you will change your mind when I tell you that the Spanish furniture is much more expensive than the French pieces in your room.” He made notes on the mem- orandum pad lying on the Queen Anne desk. “If Mrs. Draper has the yellow Spanish room, your commission will pay half what you owe me now.” “And if you duplicate my room?”’ “Oh, in that case, your commission would amount only to about 10 per cent of your bill. Also, I do not care to have un- collected bills around. I could have sold that bed and dressing table you have to a very rich customer at more than I charged you, and what is more to the point, been paid for it.” His manner became more suave as she walked over to the window. “But to come back to the subject in hand. This room would be marvelous in yellow. There is the contrast of the blue sky out- side, and the green trees; one must take all these things into consideration. French furniture of your kind needs the most artificial of settings—it is perfect in a All skyscraper. In the country, it is another matter.” Mildred turned around decisively. “Don’t talk to me as if I was a client!’ she snapped. ‘‘You want to do this room in yellow and walnut not because of the green grass and blue sky outside, but because you’ve never been able to unload that furniture on anyone else. All right, go ahead, do it!” He bowed. before I go.” “The car will take you back to the 5:20 train. Don’t forget when the room’s fin- ished to send me a receipted bill for half my room.” **When Mrs. Draper has paid me I shall do so with pleasure.” Mildred went down the hall to her own room, filled with anger. ‘‘I certainly needn't have worried about having too much good luck today!” she thought as she took a “T will make a little sketch (Centinued on Page 64)

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SATURDAY EVENING POST “The supreme com- bination of all that is fine in motor cars” ‘DEPENDABILITY --- Thousands of families have not been without the faithful service of a Packard for a generation. To these and many other families of more recent ownership Packard cars have come to mean far more than fine, efficient machines of transportation. They have gained some part of that affection men feel for faithful dogs and high-bred horses. For the Packard is, above all, dependable. Owners learn AS K THE M A N W to trust the unfailing performance of this fine car— day after day—year after year —with its surpris- ingly small maintenance cost and simplest sort of routine care. The famed beauty and distinction of the Packard, its roomy comfort, great power and long life—all have had a part in establishing its priceless reputation. But underlying all these is the Packard dependability which for twenty-seven years has made the name Packard synonymous with quality motor cars. O Wns H O ONE PACKARD

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64 THE SATURDAY so smooth ! a damp Ordinary Flat Finish White Paint Barreled Sunlight Gloss Finish The microscope shows the difference! These photographs of paint surfaces were made through a pow- erful microsccpe. The astonishing contrast shows why Barreled Sunlight is soeasy to - keep clean. Smooth, unbroken and non- porous, it resists dirt and washes like tile. Barreled Sunli cloth keeps it spotless bY jpcwrd happens to ordinary interior paint? It gets hopelessly dirty. Hard scrubbing may remove the dirt, but it also wears away the paint. Repainting is soon necessary. The wide popularity of Barreled Sunlight has been won by its satin-smooth surface that washes easily like tile, and is so dura- ble that washing cannot injure it! A finish so handsome, moreover, that it replaces the finest enamel—at a lower cost and with fewer coats. Guaranteed to remain white longest. Any tint can be obtained by mixing oil colors with Barreled Sunlight. Ask your dealer about the new, easy-mixing Bar- reled Sunlight Tinting Colors in handy tubes. Quantity for quantity, Barreled Sunlight covers a larger area. And the extreme ease of applying it by brush or spray saves many labor-hours. In Gloss, Semi-Gloss, and Flat finishes. Cans and drums. Where more than one coat is required, apply Barreled Sunlight Undercoat first. U. S. Gutta Percha Paint Co., E-22 Dudley Street, Providence, R. I. Branches: New York— Philadelphia—Chicago—San Francisco. Distrib- utors in all principal cities. More than 7000 retail dealers. Reg. U.S Pat. Off | man got up. Tan acy Prange We > xorr""r > U. S. GUTTA PERCHA PAINT CO E-22 Dudley Street, Providence, R. I Please send me information on the use of Barreled Sunlight in— (Check) () Homes (If you wish a sample can enclose 10c) Name Street City State | : | people are coming. Don’t mention his wife. Commercial Buildings ( Industrial Plants EVENING POST (Continued from Page 62) blue chiffon tea gown off the hanger in her closet. Someone knocked at the door; a maid’s voice said: ‘‘Will you please go down to the telephone in the library, madame? Mrs. Braite has been trying all day to reach you. She says it’s very important.”’ “All right.” Mildred turned off the | water in the tub and ran down the stairs. As she went into the book-lined room a “My name’s Bromley,’’ he said. At first glance Mildred saw that he was tall and young and fit; that his black hair was smooth and was brushed back from a high forehead. She regretted immediately that she had not had time to change her dress. When she sat down on the sofa and picked up the telephone to speak to the cause of her dishevelment, her tone was not cordial. Then Dora’s obvious distress claimed her attentiveness. “Mildred, I’m in terrible trouble! been a fool, and I don’t know what to do! ““What’s the matter?” “Well, to begin with, I thought you were coming down and I planned my entire party around you.” “Don’t be silly!’’ Mildred lost her tem- per for the second time that afternoon. Then, regaining her composure, and mind- ful that Bromley was sitting only a few feet I’ve | behind her, she said more slowly and more sweetly: “‘ You did say something about it ages ago, but when I saw you at Helen’s last Sunday you didn’t mention it, so I | supposed you’d changed your mind.” “Well, as a matter of fact Oh, lis- ten, Mildred, this isareal SOS. I’ve asked the Beales here— both of them!” “Dora!” “Well, I had to. I had to have a show- down. At least I thought so. I must have been crazy. I didn’t tell either of them that I'd asked the other. He accepted because he still hepes to get something out of Jim. You see, in the beginning, when they were living together, Jim gave him tips on the market, and Beale hasn’t yet caught on to the fact that the tips were meant for her. Anyway, he’s here now, just sitting around, drinking one high- ball after another and not saying a word. She’s due at 6:30. Neither he nor Jim knows she’s coming. What am I going to do?” “Are they really separated?” “They haven't lived together for six months. She left him just after she met Jim. I suppose she thought ——’’ Her voice broke. Mildred could visualize the expression of misery on her round, mas- saged face. ‘And I honestly think if Jim knew I'd done a thing like this he m-might — She could not go on, but Mildred knew that she lived in constant terror lest Jim should form a serious attach- ment for some younger woman. “I thought you'd be here and would somehow straighten it out. You can always handle Jim.” “Well, it’s too late to think of this now. Of course I’d have come if you’d spoken of it on Sunday. But you’ve got to do some- thing quickly, my dear. Beale is a bad actor when he gets started, and he’s got an obsession about her. If he suspected that it was Jim’s fault she had left him he might do anything.” “Oh, what shall I do?” ‘Listen!’ Mildred’s thoughts arranged themselves in a clear pattern. ‘“‘Order the closed car; have a servant pack all Beale’s things and put them in it. When it’s at the door go to him and say you're sorry but you got your dates mixed and a lot of other Get the butler to help you. If he’s been drinking a lot he won't even think it’s awfully strange. Tell the chauffeur not to stop until he’s safely at his club.”’ “Mildred, you’re wonderful! I knew you could help me out. I couldn’t have lived through it.’ “Well, it will be all right now.” “Oh, thank you a thousand times! I can’t ever thank you enough! Will you June 11,1927 lunch with me at the Colony on Tuesday just by ourselves?”’ “T’d love to.”” Mildred hung up the re- ceiver and stretched her arms high above her head. ‘‘A silver fox!” she said aloud. “Tl avert a divorce, perhaps a murder, and in exchange they will give me a silver fox!” “Well, that’s not so bad.” Bromley’s voice made her jump; she had forgotten his presence. Now she pretended that she had been addressing him. He went on: “Taken all in all, you spent only about five minutes on the telephone, so I should say your time was terribly valuable. Even corporation lawyers don’t get much more than that per minute.” As he talked he came over to the sofa and stood looking down at her. “You know, I thought when you first came in that you were about eighteen. Then I heard you hand out a line like a bouncer in a night club, and now I don’t know how old you are.” “‘And no reason why you should.” He made her feel absurdly immature; instead of dealing with him with savoir-faire she wanted to snap at him. Then she thought that perhaps she felt at a disadvantage be- cause she was still wearing the sport dress in which she had played golf. “I'll go up and change and be down in a minute.” “Oh, don’t go! You're one of those women who take at least an hour to dress, and I'd be all alone. Besides, here comes tea.” The butler wheeled in a tea cart, which he placed in front of her. To her surprise, when she lifted the silver pot, her hand trembled so that she spilled tea into the saucer. She said involuntarily, “I’m worried.” “For fear you won’t get the silver fox?” Her eyeballs seemed to swell and burn; she carefully poured a fresh cup. He sat down beside her on the sofa. Mil- dred thought that she had never seen any- one so self-possessed and so thoroughly detestable. In fact, she was so filled with enmity that she realized the necessity of pretending friendliness. ‘‘How did you get here?”’ “‘T flew out, then got someone to motor me over from the landing field. When I arrived the butler said I couldn’t go to my room because it was being surveyed.” “Yes, I was up there with an interior decorator who's going to do it over.” “Oh, are you in that business?” “No.” “T see. Just another silver fox.” This time she did not wince. ‘Some- thing much more valuable than that, I hope,”’ she said gayly. “‘Why, I worked over it at least half an hour.”’ She said to herself: ‘‘He will pay for this. I wouldn’t ask Peters now to finance him if I got a million dollars out of it!’’ She forced herself to remember all the scraps of information about flying which she had accumulated, and she asked him questions intelligent enough to launch him into a monologue on the subject. This put her at an advantage and gave her a chance to sum him up. She admitted that he looked both well-bred and distinguished. “T’ll wager there’s one per cent of Indian blood in his Virginia ancestry,” she thought, because even in his most enthusiastic mo- ments, when his dark eyes lighted up and his lean brown hands illustrated some point of his narrative, he nevertheless gave one the impression that his predominating characteristics were pride and inaccessi- bility of spirit. When the door opened and Ernestine and Randolph came in she got up de- cisively. ‘“‘I must write some letters before dinner.” But before she had left the room a maid appeared. “Oh, madame, the butler from the Braites’ house has just telephoned. W-will you go over at once?” Randolph said dryly, ‘‘I suppose they need an extra woman for dinner.” “Oh, no, sir—oh, no! Oh, he s-said there’s been an accident—with a gun and Mr. Braite was dying!”’ (Continued on Page 67)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST #/ Wear-Proof .\ Journals The 88% reduction in starting load, due to friction elimination, only begins to express the value of Timken-equipped railroad car journals. They have the capacity, because Vimken Bearings are more than equal to the tre- mendousshockand side-thrust, as Hanged steel wheels race over steel curves, cross- ings and switches. Compactly, simply, with absolutely no axle wear, /L/ stress is amply provided for by Timken mate- rial and design—Timken-made electric steel; Timken taperedconstruction; and Timken Pos/TiVELY ALIGNED ROLLS, considered the greatest bearing advance since the advent of the taper principle. Journals are permanently protected. Gone are hot-boxes, endless lubrication, and rough starting. Labor, fuel and materials are saved. Upon request any railroad may have the data resulting from years of Timken development. THE TIMKEN ROLLER BEARING CO., CANTON, OHIO we eee & TIMKEN "BEARINGS" =— \

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66 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 LOG CABIN Youll be famous for this new and delicious dessert OG CABIN Especially prepared by Betty Crocker, the renowned Home 2 cup sugat Economics Expert, for use only with Log Cabin Syrup cu ip Log Cabin syrup 1%4 cups flour If you would win new laurels for yourself as a success- England and Canadian. These are blended with purest ful hostess and a wonderful cook, try these two new recipes. Log Cabin Maple Frango is the most delicious of all frozen desserts. Dainty, rich, creamy, with an alluring flavor of maple, rare and tempting. So cooling and re- freshing. on a hot summer's night. Log Cabin Pecan Rocks are like confections. Crisp and crunchy. Delicately flavored with maple, too, so when served with Maple Frango the combination is a de- lighttully different dessert. Use only Log Cabin Miss Betty Crocker created these lovely recipes es- pecially for use only with Log Cabin Syrup. Don't use any other syrup or flavoring. For Log Cabin has a luscious flavor of pure maple that permeates every bite granulated sugar by the famous 40-year-old Towle process. Nothing else is used. Hence the delicious maple flavor—rare and melting. Make this test Order a can of Log Cabin Syrup today. Then make Log Cabin Maple Frango and Log Cabin Pecan Rocks. If you don't agree that Log Cabin is the most delicious syrup you have ever used—that this new dessert is the most delicious you have ever eaten—return the unused portion of the can to us. We will refund the full purchase price, including postage. Log Cabin Syrup comes in three sizes. Order from your grocer today and make this test—at our risk. If he can't supply you, send us his name and we will see that you are supplied at once. LOG CABIN Maple Frango ips Log Cabir p +} with rich goodness. That is why it is the most pop- 3—Cr pe er vit ys anda, afatae Por THE LOG CABIN PRODUCTS COMPANY ae a ee paren ia ; Dept. 19, ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA 5—Co is We use only the two choicest kinds of maple— New THE CENTER OF NORTH AMERICA 6 Pour i j ick tor 8 hours 7 — Use two parts ice to one #f rock sal 8—The mixture s long, icy Towless LOG CABIN Sprup rystals so : This recipe will serve

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CzG (Continued from Page 64) Automatically Mildred picked up the coat Ernestine had just dropped on a chair. “The car’s still at the door.” She turned formally to her hosts. “I’m so sorry to disarrange your dinner.” Her voice sounded unnatural, but she did not feel in any way like herself. She heard, as if coming from a vast dis- tance, the comments of the three others all speaking at once; then, bareheaded, she went directly out to the motor. The doctor and she arrived together at the big white house of the Braites. They shook hands. ‘“‘Do you know how it hap- pened?”’ he said as they waited for the door to be opened. She had rehearsed, all the way over, the story which she hoped could be given out. “Yes, I think Jim was cleaning his gun and it went off accidentally.” She looked sig- nificantly at him. ‘‘ Don’t you suppose it was that way?” As he did not answer, she went on: “I don’t believe I’ve seen you more than once since you attended father. I shall never forget how devoted he was to you.” “And what a fine fellow he was! The bravest man I ever saw. He could stand any amount of pain and never whimper.” “‘I wish I was like him,” she said, and it seemed to her as if it was the first time in many years that she had expressed spon- taneously that which was in her heart. A maid admitted them; her eyes were swollen and red. ‘ Mrs. Braite is up in her room, madame. She wants you to come straight there. Mr. Braite is in the study.” As they separated, Doctor Romney patted her shoulder. “I’m glad you're here to help.” It was so dark in Dora’s room that Mil- dred could scarcely find her way across to the four-post bed on which Dora lay, fully dressed. Her voice went on, monotonously saying over and over, “I’ve killed him! I’ve killed him!” “Stop that!’”’ Mildred spoke sharply. “You didn’t shoot him, did you?” “Oh, no; Beale did that. I killed him! I killed him!” “First of all, he isn’t dead. Secondly, you are not responsible for the acts of a crazy man.” “Yes, I am! I asked him here! He heard me talk to you on the telephone. That’s why he did it. I killed him!” Mildred put both arms around Dora’s shoulders and raised her head. She spoke gently now: “Now, my dear, this won't do. You are no more to blame for Jim’s accident than I am. Doctor Romney’s down there taking care of him; he says he’s sure he’ll live.” At those words Dora burst into hysterical sobs. “Oh, I love him so! I’ve never loved anyone else! I'd kill myself if he died! I wouldn’t want to live! Oh, if he’ll only live he can flirt with anyone he wants to! Oh, Jim, Jim, don’t leave me!” Mildred piled up the pillows beneath her head, then ran into the bathroom. She re- turned with a wet cloth, with which she washed her hot face, and a glass of sedative which she made her drink. “Now you'll go to sleep,”’ she said sooth- ingly. ‘And when you wake up, Jim will be better. You're going to sleep.” Within ten minutes Dora was breathing regularly. Mildred rang for the French maid and posted her at the door, then she went downstairs. In the hall she met the butler, an Englishman whom she had al- ways tipped well. ‘‘ How is he?” “Just the same, madame. He’s still alive.” “Saunders, who’s in charge here?” “No one, madame, up to the present. I’ve done what I could.” “How many people know about the actual circumstances?” ““Only Mr. Braite’s valet and myself.” “Good! Then you can say on my au- thority it will be worth five thousand dol- lars to him to understand that Mr. Braite was cleaning his gun when it went off acci- dentally, and twice that sum to you, Saun- ders. Do you understand?” THE SATURDAY “Oh, quite, madame.” “Where is Mr. Beale?” “Locked in his room.” “Did you know that Mrs. Beale is ar- riving on the 6:30 train from town?” “Oh, no, madame.” “T believe she is. Something has to be done about it quickly. She mustn’t come to the house. Order the car, then ask Doc- tor Romney if he can speak to me a mo- ment.” When the physician came out she realized from his face how serious Jim’s condition was. “He may pull through. I don’t know. I’ve seen worse wounds, when peo- ple have lived, but he seems to have no re- sistance. After all, he’s only in the middle forties, but his nervous reactions are those of an old, old man. What a price to pay for success !”” “T have to goto the station. Beale’s wife is due. I’ve given Dora something to quiet her and told her maid to call you if she wakens up. Don’t let her see Jim. When you see her tell her he’s sure to live. And tell her—oh, Doctor Romney, I really be- lieve this is as important as saving his life—tell her she must never, never let Jim know that she asked Mrs. Beale here, or in any way stirred Beale up. Will you do that?”’ He looked down at her with paternal af- fection. ‘Of course I will. There’s the car now. But don’t wear yourself out, child.” As Mildred descended from the automo- bile to the station platform she saw a tall, loose-jointed man whom she recognized as Henry Beale walking jerkily toward the news stand. She went up to him. “How did you get here?” He had a slightly insane, foolish expres- sion, but he answered docilely: “‘I walked part way, then someone gave mea lift. I came to meet my wife.” His face, with its indication of weakness and dissipation, had always displeased Mildred; but now, as he grinned at her, she had to clench her fists to keep from running away. “I’m meeting your wife too,” she said. “Now look here, Harry Beale, if you so much as touch her when she gets off this train I'll tell the police everything I know!” His blue eyes stared at her. “I know you shot Jim. So does Dora. But if you behave yourself no one outside will know it. The story is that he shot himself accidentally. But unless you treat your wife decently you'll go to Sing Sing!” He closed his mouth. His vacuous ex- pression changed to one of terror. It was evident that he was shocked back into sanity. She saw that he understood com- pletely and would acquiesce. The train whistled around the curve. ““Now meet her,” she said—‘‘and wait here for the 6:40 back to town. I'll have your bags sent in on Monday. If you have any sense at all you can get her back now.” He seemed to have regained complete composure. He walked to the motor with her and opened the door. ‘“I—I can’t thank you. It’s wonderful of you to have done this for me.” “TI didn’t do it for you. I don’t care what happens to you. I did it for Dora.” She slammed the door and signaled the chauffeur to drive back. Then all the way home she sat with her face buried in the sleeve of Ernestine’s tweed coat, crying as if her heart would break. Having started in to cry it seemed as if the high wall which for so many years had protected her emotions had crumbled. When she got back to the house Dora was still sleeping, Doctor Romney and a physi- cian whom he had called in consultation were with Jim, and the place seemed empty of life. She wandered upstairs into the big luxurious guest room which she had occu- pied on so many occasions, and it seemed to her as if she was a stranger to the gay and carefree person who had slept in that silk-draped bed and sat before that dress- ing table hung with lace and covered with brushes and combs and bottles of engraved gold. She looked into the mirror and was not surprised to see how little resemblance , EVENING POST she bore to her usual self. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes red and Ernestine’s coat was ludicrously long and broad for her. But it did not matter. She bathed her eyes and combed her hair, but she did not even powder her face. She felt as if the whole world was suspended in mid-air while she waited to see if Jim would live. It was twenty-four hours before they felt confident that he would. In the mean- time they had given him two blood trans- fusions, but the physician insisted that it did him even more good to learn of the eagerness with which the men who worked for him had competed for this service. When Dora came out of his room where, | through the half-open door, Mildred had seen her kneeling beside the bed, her face was transfigured. “It’s going to be all right!” Her face shone with victory. Suddenly Mildred was conscious of be- ing terribly tired. “‘I think I'll go back to Ernestine’s now.” Dora put her arms tightly around her. “Bless you—always!”’ The servant who opened the Drapers’ door told Mildred that everyone was up- stairs dressing. ‘‘ There is a large dinner at | Mr. Peters’ this evening. He was just on the telephone a moment ago saying he hoped you wouldn’t disappoint him, madame.” “No, I won’t. Will you tell Mrs. Draper I’m back and will be ready in time?” She was so exhausted that after a hot bath and an attempt to repair the signs of tears and sleeplessness, which had made her face appear so unnatural, she lay down on the chaise longue and closed her eyes. But such strange unwonted thoughts raced through her mind that she could not rest. Finally she took out of the closet a low-cut black velvet dress and _ half- heartedly completed her toilet. As she clasped around her neck the string of pearls which her father had given her on her eighteenth birthday, she smiled wanly at her reflection. She was so pale that she did not dare use rouge, and be- neath her eyes were violet shadows which no cold cream could remove. Yet half an hour later, when she walked into Hadley Peters’ drawing-room, he said, “T’ve never seen you look so beautiful.” “Oh, haven’t you?”’ said Bromley, whe was just behind her. “I think she looks better in sport clothes.” Mildred moved on to speak to the other guests. On the way over she had told him and Ernestine and Randolph the story of Jim’s accident, just as it had appeared in the Sunday newspapers that morning. Now she found it necessary to repeat it to everyone. Herman Tupster was the only one who openly showed his disbelief. ‘‘I know darn well it isn’t so,”” he said after dinner, when they were sitting with a group around the fire. ‘“‘ Nobody cleans a gun and has it go off accidentally. Come on, Mildred, give us the low-down on this thing.” Bill Bromley got up from the small sofa on which he had been sitting and leaned against the mantel. “Lots of guns go off accidentally,” he said. “I remember sev- eral cases even during the war.” He told an amusing story to illustrate his point, and at its conclusion Mildred was able to slip away into the library. During dinner, Peters, at whose left she sat, had asked her to come in there after coffee so that he might show her a new etching. But he spent only a few minutes over the picture, and devoted the rest of the time to conversation so personal that even in her state of fatigue Mildred realized that he was seriously making love to her. She looked around the beautiful paneled room. “This would be mine,”’ she thought. **T would live in this place. I would have a house in town, and all the clothes I wanted, and jewels--and no more bills!” At the moment she was not capable of ela- tion, but his admiration warmed her; and when at last she felt obliged to join the others she saw in a passing mirror that her cheeks were flushed a delicate rose. (Continued on Page 69) Ocean Suit 5 sketched from life Whispers of admiration OU instinctively sense the approving glances, the whis- pers of admiration, that greet the fashionably dressed swimmer. No matter how gracefu! your dive, how smooth your stroke, your appearance can be enhanced by well styled bathing suits Today, women—and men—are carefully choosing swimming suits that have smartness and individ- uality in addition to comfort They are going even farther, se- lecting suits appropriate to the place—gay, gorgeous costumes for the social hours at the beach; sim- ple, but smart athletic suits for the morning dip, or for the prfvate pool or secluded camp. 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(Continued from Page 67) “T’ll be in town Tuesday,” Peters said, as she told him good night. “Please say you'll dine with me—just by ourselves.” “‘T’ll have to look at my book,” she an- swered. ‘‘Telephone me tomorrow and I'll let you know.” Herman held her hand in both his. “Please hurry the wedding. I want you to begin to be interested in me.” She could think of no retort, but she smiled appreciatively, then followed Er- nestine into the hall. During the half hour’s ride through the cool dark night her de- pression dropped from her as if it had been a cloak which she had taken off. When they entered the house she said, “‘T’ve never felt so wide awake in my life.” “You look it.” Ernestine yawned. “I’m paralyzed with sleepiness. You three can sit up all night if you want to, but I’ve got to go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” After she had gone up, Randolph disap- peared into the pantry and Mildred and Bromley settled themselves in comfortable chairs before the library fire. Bromley had been silent on the way home; now he said: ‘‘No matter how late Randie stays up, I want you to wait and talk to me alone afterward.” His dark eyes were even more com- manding than his words. She had again the feeling that in his character there were the directness, the courage and the arro- gance that suggested Indian chiefs and for some reason an eagle. “Oh, flying, of course,’’ she said aloud. Then, at his expression of astonishment, she laughed. ‘‘I was wondering to myself why you reminded me of an eagle.” “Well, will you stay up?” “Oh, yes. I thought you knew that.” Randolph brought in a tray of bottles and glasses. ‘‘ There’s some sandwiches out there. I couldn’t carry them all. Will you get them, Bill?” The moment the other had disappeared he whispered, ‘‘ What did Peters say? Will he finance the flight?”’ For the first time that day Mildred re- called the reason for her visit. She tem- porized: ‘‘I’m going to see him again on Tuesday.” “But every minute counts now.’ She thought resentfully: “‘ Even if he did only ask me here to use me, he ought to hide it better. If I were married to Peters, he’d never use that tone!’’ Aloud she said sweetly: “‘It was impossible to pin him down tonight. And he’s so difficult it would be a mistake to force his hand.” “Well, that’s right. But I did hope we could get it settled. Oh, here’s Bill.” Bromley put down the plate of sand- wiches, then seated himself on the floor , facing the sofa, his hands clasped around his knees. He and Randolph drifted into reminis- cence of their experiences in the air service, and Mildred listened to him and watched his face and hands as he talked, wondering why he was so unlike any cther man she had ever known. “Are you bored?” her host said at last. “Not at all. I’ve loved it.” He got up. ‘“‘ Well, I think I’ll have a nightcap and then go to bed.” “I’m not at all sleepy,” said Bromley, glancing at Mildred. When they were alone he stood up, facing her as she sat curled up on the sofa. ‘‘ You're just as hard as nails, aren’t you?”’ She gasped, then the shock of his words braced her like a plunge into co!d water. “Of course I am.”’ “And proud of it?”’ “Yeu “Tsee. Now that you've captured Peters, you think it’s paid. Now you can tell any- one where to go.”’ ““You’ve expressed it perfectly.” “Are you going to begin on me?” “Oh, no, I shall send you to the North Pole.” “You send me—what do you mean?” “This is what I mean.” His insolence had aroused in her such deep anger that she threw aside all restraint: ‘‘ You pretend to despise me because I want other people to help me. I admit that I do. I love luxury. I can’t afford it. I exchange my wits for it.” “I suppose Mrs. Braite will give you a diamond tiara for your work over there.” She jumped to her feet. ‘Don’t you dare say that! Ilove Dora Braite. What I did there I did for that reason. You can’t talk to me like this! And after all, what’s the difference between us? You need money for your work, so you ask a woman to wheedle a man into giving it to you!” He raised his arm as if to strike her. “I never did such a thing in my life!’’ “IT suppose you didn’t know Randolph wanted me to get the money from Peters.” “‘T never heard of it till this moment. He told me he knew a rich man who liked to finance explorations because of the pub- licity he himself got out of it, and so on. I didn’t ask him who it was. It never oc- curred to me it was Peters. And as for get- ting you to raise money for me, I’d see him in hell first!’’ “For one so self-possessed, you seem a little excited. Becalm! I didn’t ask him!” “Well, thank God for that! I can find lots of ways to finance this expedition with- out getting a woman to help me do it!”’ ‘Columbus didn’t seem to mind having a woman help him. In fact, I was thinking of disguising myself as Isabella and offering THE SATURDAY EVENING POST you these.’’ She unclasped her pearls and held them out for his inspection in the hol- low of her small pink palm. “‘They’d just about fetch the sum you need. You can have them.” He stared at her, his eyes still alight with anger. “‘Where’d they come from?” “My father gave them to me. They’re the only jewels I’ve never sold. I’ve been tempted to lots of times though.” “And why haven’t you?” “Because I always remembered him saying, ‘So long as you have these you'll have independence; keep them until some- thing else seems more important.’”’ “Are you trying to tell me that you think my flying to the Pole is more impor- tant to you than silver foxes and limou- sines and perfumes? I suppose it amuses you to make a fool of me! You like to have men so mad about you that they don’t know what they’re doing!” She blinked. “‘Mad about me? No- body’s mad about me. Peters is mildly in love.” “Oh, that old fool! He isn’t capable of love. Don’t pretend you haven't known I was mad about you from the first mo- ment you came into this room yesterday afternoon. You knew it as soon as | set eyes upon you. There isn’t a single symp- tom you've missed!”’ As soon as she was able to speak she said, “Such as your excessive politeness, | suppose!” “Of course! Do you suppose I'd have fought with you if I hadn’t loved you? What do you suppose makes little boys pull the hair of girls they like?”’ She sat down again; her heart was pounding. “I—I don’t know. I always wondered.” “It’s because they love them and wish they didn’t, just as I wish I didn’t love you. I wish I'd never seen you!” “Well, that’s something else [ understand.” He dropped to the sofa beside her. Her head was very near his shoulder. “‘ Well, I haven’t got any money or any of the things you want.” While he was looking into her eyes she slid the string of pearls into the pocket of his dinner coat. She was doing sums in arithmetic in her head. ‘I could sell my bedroom furniture to Ernestine and be able to pay Steinchen what I owe him. There's a lot of other stuff I can sell that we'll never need. Small houses are quite cheap in the country.” Bromley put his hands on her shoulders. “What are you thinking about?” “IT was just thinking,’’ she said, ‘what a lot of things there are in this world for us to explore together.’’ And she turned her face hopefully toward his. can’t The Deep-Breathing Enthusiast Breathes a Little Too Deeply Keep a good clipper handy (the kind your barber uses) ITH almost the whole family W\ visiting the barber regu- larly, you'll find a good pair of clippers a very handy additior: to your bathroom equipment. They are just as necessary as a comb and brush to keep the hair of all the family neat and trim between haircuts. When you buy clippers though, get a good pair. Ask your barber's advice. He'll tell you to get a Brown & Sharpe. He himself (nine out of ten barbers ses them do) and he knows they're the keenest cutting, smoothest run- ning clippers you can buy. If you ask him how long they'll wear, he’ll tell you some barbers have used theirs day in and day out for over twenty years, and they’re still going strong. With a little care, the Home Model Brown & Sharpe will last you a lifetime. You can get one in any good hardware store BROWN ¢ SHARPE Brown & Sharpe Mfg. Co., Providence, R. 1L.,U. S.A CLIPPERS

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THE SATURDAY or dimple marking—only 7 5c. The extra-toughness of the new Goodyear Golf Ball is the result of Goodyear’s long experience in selecting and compounding Goodyear has developed a cover that resists scuffing and cutting to a remarkable degree. And this means that a Goodyear Ball keeps its length and accuracy to the very last. Cored and wound scientifically, the new Goodyear Ball has the long flight, the fine accuracy, and the pleasant ‘‘chick”’ you like to Seventy-five cents can’t buy more. Ask your professional for the new Goodyear Ball. The new Goodyear—All-Weather The Goodyear Glide, 50c. MADE BY THE MAKERS OF GOODYEAR TIRES Copyright 1927, by The Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., Inc. EVENING POST historically, within its own borders. Nor have there ever been American heroes whom it has been dangerous to worship. And, above all, America is not a dejected or disappointed country—as most of the countries of Europe are. The ideals ac- cepted by Americans during the war did not work through to actualities, but the average American is as little disturbed by the failure of these ideals as he is by our failure to march to Berlin—prob- ably for the same reason. Finally, the postwar period, which called for an enor- mous economic readjustment in America, was simple in comparison with the stabili- zation of any European nation. These dif- ferences are so profound that it would have been normal for us to escape the contagion of the new nationalism altogether. We did not. For one thing we are always glad to imitate Europe, and when we discovered that a sophisticated Englishman had taken the trouble to write about Queen Victoria, we promptly decided to write about Martha Washington; when it became chic in Chelsea to bring down an antimacassar and a few stuffed birds from the attic it also became proper in Park Avenue to dis- play a few decorative atrocities of the early General Grant period. Besides, we had had a little disappointment; Europe was not all we had hoped. And as Europe turned its eyes inward we were more or less com- pelled to do the same. We looked within and discovered a great many things; but perhaps the greatest discovery of all was that we had a past. It had been so insistently drummed into us that we were a new country that the idea of having a past, good or bad, was a nov- elty; it gave us some sort of background, some sort of standard. It seems there had actually been a man named Jefferson who had ideals of human liberty, and one named Hamilton with a lofty conception of the functions of government; pioneers, taking their lives in their hands, unearthed the records of a body called the Supreme Court, which, they said, had handed down deci- sions interpreting the law of the land, estab- lishing judicial habits of mind. New as the country was, it had had a period of good architecture and interesting furniture; it had produced a few heroes, some builders, perhaps a poet. Whatever happiness we derived from this contemplation of the past was short-lived. For the new explorers very soon taught us that, reading from left to right, our past was dubious, our present drab, and our future probably terrible. Our minds were full of illusions and myths, our ideas of our own history were uniformly wrong, our heroes had clay, if not club, feet, and the Liberty Bell certainly did not ring on the Fourth of July, 1776. It was heartbreaking! Workers in the Vineyard In effect, they gave us to understand, the only things really worth while in our his- tory were those quaint characters, those disparaged groups, those subject races, of whom we had taken no account. The red- skin, hardly visible in American art since the days of Fenimore Cooper, was redis- covered and he and his music and his corn dances and paintings were christened “‘Amerind” and held up as the only contri- bution made by this continent to the art of the world. At about the same time the spiritual and the work song of the negro were unearthed by followers of Col. Thomas Wentworth Higginson, who was a pioneer in the field half a century earlier, and these, in turn, were also named as our only con- | tribution to the music of the world, the basis of the true American music of the | future. In another field—that of biography—the work differs in tone. Biography has be- come financially good since the exceptional success of Lytton Strachey’s Queen Vic- toria. Though a number of writers without CAPTIOUS COLUMBUSES (Continued from Page 31) June 11,1927 his sophistication and intelligence have tried to use his method—a combination of irony and sympathy—the workers in the vineyard are too numerous to be all of a class. Not all of them snip little para- graphs out of contemporary newspapers to quote them with a sneer; some have taken their calling seriously and produced good biographies, in which the subject comes off at least as well as the biographer himself. The interesting thing about this passion for biography is that it has turned to so many of the queer characters, the odd types, of American history. I recall no Daniel Webster, no Seward or Clay, no Calhoun or Adams, outstanding in the biographical list; the writers have chosen either the very greatest figures— Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, Grant or the singular people—Buffalo Bill and Boss Tweed, Jesse James, Anthony Com- stock, the Beecher family, the legendary Paul Bunyan of the lumber camps, Robert Ingersoll, Ward McAllister and Carry Na- tion; Brigham Young and Barnum were treated by the same author who is now at work on a history of Tammany Hall; Meade Minnigerode wrote of the forties; Mark Sullivan took the turn of the century; Thomas Beer took the whole period of the 1890’s and called it the Mauve Decade; even the movies fell under the spell, revived the Western, and called it the Covered Wagon or the Iron Horse. Individuals, great families, great political institutions, all were subjected to reéxamination and were revalued; presently the America of today was put under the microscope too. Modern Idol Snipers The novelty in all this is in the attitude of a great many of the writers. They are all trying to explode certain illusions in the American mind. They suggest that we have been fed lies instead of history and that our minds are a jumble of myths. We are supposed to believe that Columbus dis- covered America because he knew how to make an egg stand on its head; that the Pilgrim Fathers were courageous exiles from religious persecution; that Washing- ton never told a lie and remained childless so that he might be known as the Father of His Country; that a bell proclaimed liberty throughout the land on July 4, 1776, when the Declaration of Independence was signed, chiefly by John Hancock, whose claim to glory is a fine signature; that the United States never engaged in an unjust war and was never defeated, not even when it tackled Great Britain single-handed in 1812; that Lincoln was a backwoodsman; that Grant was a great general; that Roosevelt dashed alone up San Juan Hill. They assure us that these things are either false or unimportant. They smash these precious idols before our eyes, giving us proof that it was not Pershing who said, “Lafayette, we are here’; that the Con- tinental troops bothered Washington con- siderably by their habit of deserting to gather in the harvest; that the War of 1812 was only a side show of the Napoleonic epic, in which we happened to back the tyrant; that Lee was always a superior strategist; and that the Declaration was not signed and no bell rang on the Fourth of July. The iconoclasts go on until it seems to be only a matter of time until we hear that Nathan Hale was a traitor, Aaron Burr a farsighted statesman, and Benedict Arnold the only true patriot. Cer- tainly if success attends these efforts we are in danger of being informed that Wil- liam Tell never shot an apple on his son’s head—it must have been two other fel- lows—and that there is positively no Santa Claus! The processing is known as “debunking history’’ and its results are supposed to make us extremely uncomfortable. To hear that Captain Kidd was not a pirate and (Continued on Page 72)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 70) that Washington used swear words is sup- posed to be enough to rock the foundation of the good American’s belief in God. Ob- stinately the American has refused to be upset. He has bought the books and maga- zines, has read the horrible revelations, and remained almost wholly unaffected by them. Somewhere or other there is a defect in the logic of the debunker. That defect will become apparent if we add to these debunkings the parallel proc- ess which attacks not the historical past but the actual present. Here also we come upon a new attitude and a surprising suc- cess. The novelist who has had the most consistent success in America since 1920, with sales threatening to rival those of Mary Jane Holmes and the Duchess, has written devastating and angry attacks on the social life, the stupidity, the business hypocrisy, the false religion, of America. Among the new playwrights in the same era a most enviable success has been gained by two collaborators who in three successive years had three successes, ridi- culing the pretensions of average men and women, and making a nightmare of Amer- ican business methods. And the father in Israel of all the debunkers has recently | created a highly successful magazine which | is a monthly encyclopedia of all the stu- pidities and hypocrisies of America. Even the movies have made some success in the field of satire. , There have been hundreds of others, not uniformly successful. The significant thing to note is that the Sinclair Lewises, the Menckens, the Kaufman-Connellys, whose attacks have been most spirited, are pre- cisely the ones who have achieved the high- est popularity. It is said that Sinclair Lewis expected Main Street to be a financial! fail- / ure, and that as royalty check followed upon royalty check his own opinion of the artistic merits of the book went correspond- ingly down. But his opinion of the in- habitants of Main Street did not go up, in | spite of the fact that these miserable worms | were buying his book with an unrestrained

eagerness. The intention of Main Street was to show up the littleness, the mean- ness, the intellectual barrenness of the aver- age small-town life of America; and the small town instantly hugged the attack to its bosom. The intention of Beggar on Horseback was to show up the brutalizing effect of modern business on any man with a sensitive spirit, and the play ran about a year in New York, another on the road, and was made into a moving picture. Laughing it Off There are, of course, many explanations of the success of a book or a play; but it is impossible to get around the fact that the Main Streeters and the Babbitts read sneering descriptions of themselves, winced perhaps, laughed and refused to be terri- bly upset. It cannot have been merely an additional layer of hide, for some of the | attacks were made without delicacy; the AUTOTOP FINISH | is amazingly easy to use. Brush it on to- night and it will be hard and dry by | morning.

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ax chopped where the scalpel could not penetrate. Yet universal anger is the one emotion which the debunkers have failed to evoke, except when they attack, or are supposed to attack, organized religion; just as in their historical adventures the debunkers can stir Americans to fury only when they | make insinuations against the morality of great American heroes. Everything else, viciously attacking the whole faith of Americans in their past and in their pres- ent, is met with indulgence. Perhaps a clew to the failure of the de- bunkers can be found in a purely literary circumstance. The first of the great de- bunking novels of the present is Main Street; the second is Babbitt. And it isa peculiar fact that both of these novels have illustrious French models, or, let us say, parallels, in the nineteenth century. This is not a literary essay and I am not saying that Mr. Lewis rewrote French novels in terms of the American present; for all I know, he may not be acquainted with both June 11,1927 of the originals. But the parallel remains equally significant, whether it was inten- tional or not. The essential story of Main Street concerns a girl who has ambitions for an interesting, exciting and beautiful life, and who finds herself in an American city surrounded by moneygrubbers and pre- tenders to culture, where only the village in- fidel has the faintest conception of her ideals. And that, within limits, is the story of the famous Madame Bovary, in which all the crassness and ugliness of a small French town are the background of a study in illu- sion and in sex. The relentless hatred which Flaubert felt for the bourgeoisie of the French countryside is matched by his unwavering scrutiny of the mind and soul of a woman filled with romantic longings; and these are precisely the subjects to which Mr. Lewis addressed himself. He followed this with Babbitt, which is essen- tially a dumping out of the rag bag of an American business man’s mind, his super- stitions and illusions and childish beliefs; his misinformation, his aspirations, his mental blankness. And that, again within limits, is the content of a less-known novel by the same Frenchman, called Bonvard and Pécuchet, in which Flaubert seemingly attempted to catalogue all the stupidities of mankind. The Trend of Criticism What this suggests is that a great deal of the criticism of America by Americans is consciously or unconsciously inspired by European standards. Superficially—and al- most all the attacks are superficial—there seems to be no reason why the criticism applicable to France in 1840 should be ap- propriate to the America of the 1920’s. Hu- manity may remain the same, but the critics of America at this moment are very little concerned with the permanent charac- ter of men and women; they are only busy with the passing show of American life. And it is odd that their point of view as well as their point of attack should coincide so markedly with that of Europeans of about a century ago. The whole business of hating the middle classes is an old game abroad; it was worked to death in every generation between the time of Victor Hugo and the time of Oscar Wilde; and in every case it was found slightly inadequate as a sustained attitude toward life. The suspi- cion may arise that this outworn European habit of mind is not exactly the new revela- tion for America. The prosperous American may be stupid and hypocritical, immersed in thoughts of money, empty headed, with- out a true culture; the business of showing him up is undoubtedly a good one. But when the showing up is over, the prosperous American remains as interesting and as problematical as ever, peculiarly unangered and unabashed. It may be because, without knowing Flaubert, the American feels that what is being said of him is not particularly rele- vant. Dressing up in the regalia of fra- ternal orders and singing Auld Lang Syne at lunches may be silly—even as silly as dressing in velveteen jackets and dancing half-naked at the Quatz’ Arts ball—but the agony of a sensitive soul over the fact that real-estate men are not Greek athletes and romance troubadours at the same time can only be moving as a joke. It is not im- portant as a criticism because no sane per- son pretends that things are otherwise, and no intelligent person particularly wants them to be otherwise. The spectacle of a butcher with full command of the literature of the third primary grade pretending to be a poet is a figure of fun, and was immor- talized in that way by Moliére; but it is not a serious condemnation of the charac- ter, or even of the culture, of a nation. The recent revelations about America are nearly all in the same vein. We are a crude, uncultured people; our acquaintance with art and letters is superficial and fragmen- tary; we have bad manners; our seeking for culture by way of the Chautauqua and (Continued on Page 74)

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THE SATURDAY WEED Chains come in bags handy to store under car seat or in tool com- partment ready for attaching before driving in mud and on wet, slippery, skiddy streets. « PRODUCT OF THE AMERICAN CHAIN COMPANY. fnc im business for your safety EVENING POST (Continued from Page 72) the woman’s club is a thing to mock at; the meanest European peasant surpasses us. So it runs. Each month Mr. Mencken prints in the American Mercury several pages of incredible clippings from the news- papers of the country, forming an apocalyp- tic vision of the dullness and stupidity of American life; in ten days’ reading of one London newspaper I collected an equal as- sortment; and a week’s news in the French provincial press will supply such a record of human fatuity, superstition, vio- lence and ignorance—if you pick only the right items—as will make the reader think himself back in the Middle Ages. The sen- timental beliefs on which the American is supposed to base his normal life are paral- leled throughout the world. Destroy them all and the essential man remains un- touched. The truth is that the average intelligent man has long ago discounted these stop- press revelations about the unmitigated baseness of American life. When a writer comes to him with a significant picture of the chaos in which America lives, or ex- presses with irony or sympathy something essential in the American character, he is ready to listen. But sniping at great figures and setting up foreign standards for the average man have both ceased to be interesting. What remains interesting is the motive of the snipers and the critics. The Sophistry in Sophistication The assumption always is that the de- bunkers are more sophisticated than the rest of us. The average American, in this theory, falls for any sort of bunk, from patent medicines to political panaceas; and the debunkers fall for none, because they always are willing to search for and then to face the facts. I have suggested that the American is, perhaps, not alone in his tendency to be buncoed. The South Sea Bubble and the witch-whipping curé of Bombon are not precisely American phe- nomena. But beyond that, I question, timidly, whether the debunkers are actually as sophisticated as they think, whether there isn’t a deal of bunk in debunking it- self. It is the prime trait of a man of the world to understand everything, to see everything in its proper proportions, and not to get too wildly excited by what he sees. The good stupid American, witnessing the phenomenon of the debunkers, seems to have said, “ Well, there’s probably some- thing in what they say. Let us see how im- portant it is in comparison with the League of Nations and next Saturday night’s poker game.”’ He may have given the wrong de- gree of significance to all three, but his atti- tude was essentially sophisticated. Whereas the debunkers, noticing that American small-town life appears drab to a sensitive Europeanized soul, have lost all sense of proportion and all savoir-faire. The Bab- bitts—it seems a shame to encourage them—have actually proved themselves more urbane and sophisticated than the de- bunkers. The sophisticated man is too familiar with history to indulge in exaggerated hopes, and is seldom disappointed. It is only incurable romantics and little children June 11,1927 who are always going about being disillu- sioned with life. And the debunker, who claims that the middle class lives on illu- sion, seems to be suffering under the great- est illusion of all; namely, that his ideal of life is the only correct ideal and that all life ought to conform to it at once. It is one of the most pathetic phases of the reforming temperament, a sort of debased Puritanism which always attacks the Puritan. The debunker, caught in an unguarded moment, may confess that he dislikes his country, and in spite of himself you will be able to trace a faint flush of pride in the confession. Patriotism, loving your coun- try, is the virtue of common people; su- perior people are above it. But modern psychology will not let the debunker rest. If he belittles greatness, psychology suggests that he has an in- feriority complex; if*he grows violent in abuse of his countrymen the only explana- tion is that he loves them or envies them too much. The Rah-Rah Spirit The phenomenon can be studied at close range among adolescents. In every college the body of undergraduates is afflicted with a peculiar emotion known as the rah-rah spirit, college pride, and a variation of loyalty which leads one to believe that one’s own college is by law and nature better than any other college. It is easy to analyze this spirit and to show that it is a composite of herd instincts and egotism. But in each college there are a number of students to whom the rah-rah spirit is offensive, and some of these make a point of meeting the rah with the razz. They consistently belit- tle their college, and they no more hate it than French mothers hate their babies when they call them “little monkeys.”’ It is simply the desire to stand a little apart from the crowd, the desire to disguise their love and to prove their loyalty by being dis- criminating. The same attitude on a larger scale is visible in the debunkers. If they were ac- tually indifferent to their country they would not be so desperately hurt by its sec- ondary faults; if they were as superior as they seem, and not so adolescent, they would note defects and virtues in some pro- portion. Particularly, they would not exag- gerate the reverse side of their love into a petulant nagging. The one thing they have not yet explained is how it happens that a country so dull, so unintelligent, so hypo- critical, so weak-minded as our own has been able to face criticism with the good humor they themselves so conspicuously lack. For that explanation we have only to look abroad. The philosophers of Europe have for a considerable time been prophets of evil, but the statesmen, with rare excep- tions, have exaggerated the strength of their separate countries. It is the natural thing to do in a country weakened by a disastrous war and an inconclusive peace. But in America the philosophical critics have ex- aggerated the country’s weaknesses and the country has let them do it without bitter- ness. It is a familiar gesture; as familiar as members of the same family kidding each other. It might be called a gesture of modesty, and it happens that it can only come with the assurance of strength.

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ERE is a picture every- body knows, everybody who has ever driven at night. The road that appeared almost glassy smooth in the day- time has suddenly developed star- tling bumps! That is because bright lights and heavy night shadows make them stand out as they really are. For the bumps are there! Whether you see them in the daytime or not, they exist, thousands of them, in every road, however “smooth.” And they are of the greatest importance as the complete explanation of why your car “gallops,” no matter where you drive. No more “galloping” Small as they are, they are yet large enough to keep today’s soft springs in constant motion, producing that uncomfortable bobbing and jiggling of the whole car, that mushy see- saw bouncing you know so well. me NEW PIASSLERS NO MORE GALLOPING THE SATURDAY EVENING POST From seventy to ninety per cent of today’s driving is on roads like this —full of the tiny irregularities, scarcely visible in the daytime, that cause “ galloping” Why your car gallops : Constant discomfort is caused by countless bumps —scarcely visthle by daylight There is but one way to stop this unpleasant “galloping.”” You must have a spring control sensitive enough to absorb the very slightest rebound, such as would be caused by bumps like these. Ard you can have it now, you can rid your car of “galloping,” with the new Hasslers! Big bumps, little bumps—alike! Ruggedly built to stand the hardest use, thoroughly effective in the con- trol of the severest shocks on rough roads—the new Hasslers are at the same time so delicately responsive that no inequality is too small to bring their corrective action into immediate play. So swift in recovery that they keep your car in constant readiness for the closest possible succession of bumps, large or small. So perfectly adjusted that they preserve the full resiliency of your springs, while yet effectively check- ing rebound. A special type for your car There is a set of Hasslers especially designed and adjusted for every popular make of car, including the one you drive. A Chrysler set for a Chrysler. A Pontiac set for a Pon- tiac. A Ford set for a Ford. And so on. Inexpensive, easily and quickly installed, the new Hasslers will give you an entirely new experience in riding comfort. Have a set put on when you buy or on the old car your Car, now Learn how much the new Hasslers add to the pleasure of riding. How much play and movement they per mit your car to retain while giving you a thoroughly smooth and pet fectly rhythmic ride Sold by the dealer who sold you your car, or at the Hassler Sales and Service Station near you. If you can not find the new Hasslers, write us. We'll see that you are supplied Hassler Manufacturing (o., Indianapolis, U.S. A. a 4-444 4 4 KK KK tt Xx ™ Paleo : The new Hasslers are water Fy s @ Their internal mech- | it anism is sealed against ce structive dirt, mud, grit and q he tight slush This msures nope / less operation under all con ditions It eliminates the broken strap bugalbwx It safe guards the precise adjustment necessary to give you perfect spring action and control and makes possi ble uninterrupted service for the life of your car No readjustment is ever necessar * Every Hassler js equipped ‘ ; sith an Asemite or Zerk fitting for lubrication with é Alemite chassis lubricant This keeps the internal x echanism in perfect work ne ndition at all ti and protects it from excessive wea Put ma set of the new Hasslers and give them a shot of Alemite whenever you lubricats you i That is all the service they re ept for the difference in riding comfort ou will forget that the ther In the ne Ha , } re th tached to the i Further ha y the r h th Has t

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~J) ~ Qe and “be left always to wonder where the other path would have led. Or one could compromise, as had Bessie, for instance; holding te security, but making her small tentative explorations into more or less shady bypaths. Or—again—like Kay, one could take the hard road to life and ad- venture, suffer, stumble, but somehow have lived. Like old Lucius too. Toward morning Henry tiptoed into the room. She closed her eyes immediately, but she was touched. Perhaps, after all, security; a strong hand to hold to at the end. He looked at her, turned and crept out again. RXXVIIN AY never told Katherine about Clare, but gradually, littie by little, she learned some of the details of those missing months. She saw the little ranch house, the struggie to live, and between the lines the attempts at adjustment. She saw the town on the reservation —the loneliness, thedust and heat of summer, the work; but in none of these things did she find the reason for the tragedy which was written on Kay's face. She lay still and thought: ‘There is something else, something else she won't tell me. There is something else.” But she learned that Kay was staying in- definitely. It comforted her while at the same time it worried her. She liked to have her coming in, to listen for the click of her high heels outside, and then see her enter in one of the dinner frocks from her trousseau. “That's really a sweet dress, Kay. Do you remember how they fought to put pink on it? It’s much better as it is.” That the dress hung looser than it was meant to she never mentioned. She even went downstairs more often, sitting behind her tea table with a delicate pink flush on her face. People came and went, sedate, well-bred people who greeted Kay as though she had never been away, and waited until the doors of their limou- sines were closed before conjecturing. Al- though it was already almost winter on the high plateau Kay had left, it was only autumn in the East. A few leaves still clung tenaciously to the trees; there were days almost as warm as summer. Socially the city was taking its fall respite, between summer resorts and the opening of the sea- son the first of December. The houses of the neighborhood were being gradually opened. One day their wooden shutters would be up, and a card, ‘“* Deliver mail and parcels to the caretaker in the rear.” The next the windows would be open, an ad- vance guard of servants would take posses- sion, and house cleaners, paper hangers, painters, upholsterers would come and go. Bessie was in New York. Kay never saw Herbert; once, passing the library door, she heard his voice beyond it and saw his car at the door. She went upstairs as quietly as she could. She could not see Herbert; not yet anyhow. But the news of her return gradually spread. The telephone would ring, and some excited high feminine voice would call her: “Why, Kay, I’ve just heard you're here! I absolutely must see you.” They came in, in their short skirts, their thin legs in sheer stockings, their plain little hats which were somehow so costly. They opened gold or platinum vanity cases and worked over their smooth faces; early as it was, they were usually going somewhere. They put their arms around Kay so that the scent they used smothered her after her months of the pure air of the back country. They admired her clothes, her hair, her hands. Her hands! And underneath it all they were avidly curious. If she turned suddenly she found their eyes on her. “TI do think that frock’s too divine!” But they were not thinking about her frock but about her. She had been mar- ried. She was one of the initiate. More- over, she had married dramatically. “A cowboy! Imagine! I didn’t see him, but ra they say he’s the handsomest thing! THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LOST ECSTASY (Continued from Page 36) “Tell us about your ranch. You have a ranch, haven’t you?” “It’s a little place. Very lonely. On an Indian reservation.” She would smile over the teacups, her lips a trifle stiff. “And do you really raise cattle?” “They raise themselves, rather. course they have to be worked.” “Worked? Do you hitch them to things?” And when they departed they were still avidly curious, unsatisfied. “It’s my belief she’s left him.” “Well, she’ll never tell you!” She seldom left the house. They came to her, these girls, and when they did not come she did not miss them. Their small affairs seemed trivial and frivolous to her, against the great adventure of living and dying as she began to see it. Sometimes when they came in to luncheon and sat around the table in their bright frocks, she saw instead of them Mrs. Mallory’s party. The tired capable faces, the worn capable hands. And she felt nearer to those older women than she did to these young ones. Her tumultuous inner life she buried al- ways. Fora time she had expected to hear from Tom; even on the train East the en- trance of a boy with a telegram had set her heart beating fast. But as the days went on and no letter came she abandoned the hope. He had meant what he said; he would never ask her to go back. At the end of three weeks she wrote him a letter. She wrote in a discouraged hour, and the letter was not particularly calcu- lated to heal the breach between them: “T have found my mother very ill. She may live a few months, but that is all. I am glad now that I came; it has made her happier. Of course I shall stay until theend. “What else can I say? I know now that although I did my best, it was not enough. I could not even hold you for six months. There is no reproach in this. Maybe all men are unfaithful to their wives, or at least disloyal at times. I don’t know; I find there is so much I don’t know. Of course you know that if you send for me I shall come back; not now, but when I can. But you must realize that you must want me and ask me first. I came to you once; I cannot do it again. “T am not happy here; even without mother’s illness, I would not be happy. I am spoiled for this life. I miss’’—she hesi- tated there—‘‘the mountains and the open country. I feel shut in.” She found that she was crying, had to get up and find a handkerchief, moved about the rcem before she could compose herself to go on. She was homesick for the West, heartsick for Tom. She dabbed at her eyes angrily. How weak and childish she was still to care so much for a man who did not care for her! She was one of the hopelessly faithful. It was awful, it was degrading, but there it was. She went back to her small desk. “‘ And I did love you so dreadfully, Tom! I‘must have, todo what I did do. If I have been unfair, I am sorry, and when you want me—and I can come—you know I will.” He never answered it. One day, without warning, Bessie Os- borne wandered in. She went upstairs, Of opened Katherine’s door, sauntered past the scowling nurse and kissed the invalid. “You're looking better,” she said, lying as unconcernedly as she did everything else. “‘T hear Kay’s back.” “Yes. She came some time ago.” “Has she left him?” Katherine cast an agonized glance to- ward the nurse. “Nora wrote her I was not well, and you know the winters out there. . . . Why, Bessie, whatever have you done to your hair?” Bessie had taken off her hat, and not only revealed an evident intention to re- main but a head of a hue closely resembling orange. “New color,” said Bessie calmly. “I’ve tried everything else; this was all they had left. . . . Well, how is Kay?” The nurse had recovered her voice. “Excuse me,” she said, “‘but the doctor’s orders are against visitors.” “T’m not a visitor,”’ said Bessie, glancing at her coldly, “‘and if there is anything you can do conveniently for the next ten or fifteen minutes I should like to talk to my sister-in-law.” The nurse went out defeated, and Bessie moved her chair closer to the chaise longue. “How is she? How does she look?” “T think she is a little thin.” “‘T dare say,” said Bessie dryly. ‘‘ Hasn’t she told you anything? Was it a fight, or another woman?” Katherine flushed. ‘ Really, Bessie,”’ she said, ‘I can’t ask her, and she has told me nothing. They have had this small ranch, and ——”’ Bessie listened as she went on. She had never had any opinion of her sister-in-law’s brains, and before her ten minutes were up she rose and picked up her hat. “‘Where is she?”’ “In her room, I imagine. She seems rather tired. She doesn’t care to go out much.” In the hall Bessie stopped and made a few faces to relax the rigidity she felt about her mouth, and then she tapped at Kay’s door. She had always been fond of Kay; there had been something of old Lucius in her. But if she had let this scatterbrained marriage of hers go on the rocks so soon, then perhaps there was something of her mother in her too; some softening of fiber, some —— It was probably another woman. She opened her attack abruptly, almost the moment she entered the room. “So it didn’t go?”’ she said, standing inside the door. : “Not as well as it might.” “And whose fault was it?”’ Kay shrugged her shoulders. know. Both, I suppose.” Nevertheless, in the end she told her story fully. One could do that with Bessie. And Bessie sat with her long cigarette holder between her long fingers with their pointed nails, and listened uncompro- misingly. She never spoke until the end. “Then you simply walked out and left him to that girl!” “If he wants her he can have her.” “Oh, don’t be such a little fool! You’re young,” said Bessie. ‘‘ You have a lot to learn.” She was puzzled nevertheless. Where did happiness lie for this child-woman be- fore her? Tosend her back to that dreadful little ranch house and poverty—was that the answer? If Henry only had an ounce of sense and would finance the man—but then Kay had said he would not accept help from them. That made it difficult, but also it showed that McNair had what Bessie had referred to before—namely, guts. Again, did the man want Kay back? His long silence, this cheap girl out there ——— “‘Have you seen Herbert?”’ “Not yet. I dare say I shall have to sometime.” “T don’t June 11,1927 “But you're all through with that?” “Yes. I’ve spoiled his life, among the rest, but I-——” “Spoiled his life!” said Bessie, getting up impatiently. ‘You have a lot to learn. Men can spoil women’s lives; women en- joy unrequited affection. They hold on to it, dream about it. But men! Men don’t remember anything unpleasant if they can help it. They wipe off the slate and start over again. It may please them for a while to think they are injured, but when that ceases to please them they stop.” “Then Herbert ——” “Tt still pleases him, but he’ll get over +.” She sauntered over to the dressing table, rouged her lips thoroughly, put on her hat. She could see Kay’s face in the mirror. “Don’t let anyone influence you,’ she told her. “It’s your life. If you want to go back to your cowboy, go. If you want Her- bert, stay and get busy. He’s on the branch now, but he won’t hang long.”’ And with that she went away. XXXIX OM had taken up his life again as best he could. On the day Kay left him he had driven furiously out of town, but at the top of the hill he stopped the car and got out. The train was already disappear- ing in the far distance. He stood gazing after it, his hands clenched, his eyes hard and hopeless. She was gone. It had grown very cold. The wind swept across the plains, rattled the top of the old car, penetrated his none too heavy clothing. His bad foot ached, the brim of his broad hat flapped in his hand. He had taken it off when the train went out of sight. He was still stunned. He looked around him. This was the place he had come to last summer through the dust and heat, to mourn! To crave, like a drunkard liquor, for the open country; to be alone and to look, off and off, to where behind some distant butte the sky kept rendezvous with the earth. And now he had the answer to his prayer; he could watch the sunrise on a frosty morning and see the moisture rise like smoke from the backs of his warming cattle; he could follow the narrow twisting trail, if he liked, over the edge of the world and beyond. He had had his answer, all right, and what was it worth to him? She was gone! He went back to the reservation, lit the fire and the lamps, limped about preparing his supper, but a curious thing had hap- pened to him. He tried to see Kay in the little house, but he could only see Clare. She had spoiled the house, as she had spoiled his life. He tried to visualize Kay in her low chair by the lamp, and he saw Clare. “You can go out and sleep in the barn if you want to. But who’d believe it?” Not Kay. Kay was gone. She had left him. Never again would he come home to the lamps lighted and Kay. What had he done to deserve it? He returned to the Newcomb job the next day. Bend, straighten, pitch. Bend, straighten, pitch. The machine roared and shook, the belt writhed, his foot swelled, his arms and back ached. But the labor was good for him; at least he could sleep. He was silent and morose with the men. When the threshing was over he took his pay check and limped out, to get into the car without so much as a “So long.”’ He went back to the ranch house, unlocked the door and went in, stared around him and went out again. After that he entered the house as little as possible. He settled down, in a way. Winter had come. There was no snow as yet, but it was already very cold. The enmity of the In- dians and their refusal to sel! him hay, the poor condition of the range and his respon- sibility to Tulloss adied to his real heart- ache as to Kay, sent him about in a state of savage loneliness. (Continued on Page 82)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 77 Even mild exercise may cripple, if the ZONE °9F DANGER is left unguarded ! HERE are certain sensitive nerves and cords in every man’s physique which Nature has left unguarded, and which, like Achilles’ heel, are ever vulnerable to injury. In exercise of any kind, the slightest unexpected exertion . . . a quick lunge, a sudden twist or turn . . . may painfully wrench or strain these tender ligaments. That is why the Athletic Directors of nearly all leading colleges make it mandatory for their men to wear athletic supporters. It is unfortunate that all men who lead active, stressful lives do not appreciate the wisdom of this protection. The “Saturday golfer,” for instance, who sits in an office five days a week, surely cannot afford to take risks which a well- conditioned athlete is not permitted to take. The mature man, or the man of sedentary habits . . . can draw rich dividends out of wholesome exercise. But if he would get the best results out of any form of exercise, he should take im- perative precautions for safety. Athletic Director Unwersity of Wiscon TWO TYPES ... EVERY MAN NEEDS BOTH This page presents two types of health comfort. Asa mark of neat grooming, and supporters. Every active man... worker as a conservator of energy and vitality, or sportsman . . . needs both. O-P-C will protect your nerves and strength from the numberless little subtk One is for safety in athletics and exer- : : nid ne strains in the day’s work. cise. The other, for personal neatness, comfort and protection in everyday life. No man who has once enjoyed the comfort of these two dress accessories wil! eve Wear the PAL whenever you are en- $ y 9 again do without them. gaged in sports . . . golf, tennis, horse- back riding, swimming and the like. PAL Both these Bauer & Black health sup will enable you to put your best in your porters may be obtained at drug stores play . ... giving you the courage and and from leading sporting goods dealers freedom of movement that come with physical security and bodily protection. BAUER @&® BLACK But wear an O-P=C as an article of daily CHICAGO+-NEW YORK -TORONT FOR SAFETY IN SPORTS I; FOR EVERYDAY WEAR For thirty-five years, the O- P-C Comfort Sup porter has been the daily companion of my i ads of active men, brain workers, thinkers and doers. It has enabled them to save nerve strain and conserve their vim and youth. It is a re aye of the well-groomed the safeguard of the physically active. It may be had in lisle at PAL is the standard athletic supporter; so rec- ognized by leading colleges and gymna- siums., Knitted (mot woven). Light, cool, porous, non-chafing. Covered elastic threads knitted into fabric give amazing flexibility. Responds to all exertions of the body, in- —_ stantly, while still rendering firm support. -_ Washable, durable. At druggists and sporting goods stores, one*dollar, except in Canada, THE ATHLETIC SUPPORTEFPTO THE HEALTH SUPPORTER $1. Or in silk at $1.25 or $1.50, exceptin Can ada. At druggists and sporting goods dealers

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST F. A. SEIBERLING = Pioneer Under his direction, 50,000,000 tires have been made and sold. He is the inventor of the first straight-side auto- mobile tire—the first practicable quick detachable rim— the first tire-building machine—and is the originator of today’s cord tire. He has perfected and introduced the unit tread and side-wall construction with All-Tread bars as safeguard to the casing. Mr. Seiberling’s message on the three pages immediately following is of vital significance to every tire user, for it expresses the ideal upon which he founded a business five years ago—upon which he has built an unparalleled success. He has never said “How cheaply ?”— always “How well can we build?” June 11,1927 NTT RRR mT

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 79 ot to do as the Homans do — but TO oe AS THE t, ‘a eee ea x ACROSS THE FACE of an empire the Romans wrote their message in masonry for all the ages to read. Built by the master builders of the ancient world to withstand the tramp, tramp, tramp of Caesar’s countless legions—the grind of chariot wheels—the thundering hoofs of gallop- ing steeds—those far-flung highways of Impe- rial Rome stand today as a monument to honest craftsmanship. Why did these roads, these mighty piles of masonry, outlive their builders by scores of years — by centuries? The answer is our heritage from a golden age: Infinite care—unsurpassed skill—UNSTINTED USE OF THE BEST MATERIAL. And we of The Seiberling Rubber Company believe that even with our greater knowledge of methods and materials, this formula is as sound today in Akron as it was two thousand years ago in Rome. To ‘do as the Romans do” is to follow the crowd, to substitute catchwords for quality, slogans for skill, makeshifts for material. Old-fashioned as it may seera,we set out to do, not “as the Romans do,” but “as the Romans DID”; to build, not down to a price, but up to an ideal— To satisfy our pride in our craftsmanship— And five years of unparalleled success have confirmed our belief that that which is honestly built can be honestly sold. Li Euilabig SEIBERLING S$ ALLYTREADS THE SEIBERLING RUBBER COMPANY, AKRON, OHIO THE IMPORTANT RESULTS OF THE i SEIBERLING POLICY ARE DESCRIBED ON THE TWO PAGES FOLLOWING. te)

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80 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 A ROMAN ROAD of Rubber and Cotton Old-Fashioned Ideals Fulfilled by Modern Methods - Over the hills and through the valleys you carry your road with you—laying it as you go—picking it up again as you pass—a road of rubber and cotton. And, built as Seiberling builds it, it is truly a - Roman Road. For this tire, with its famous side-bars for side-wall protection, is more than an example of supreme tire-building skill; it ex- emplifies the use of the best of tested methods—of hitherto un- attained precision in manufacture, and the UNSTINTED use of the best materials. NEVER SKIMPING ON RUB- BER OR COTTON TO MEET A THE SEIBERLING RUBBER ee a AKRON, Ltd., 19 Summer Row, Birmingham, England RLING Seiberling Ty c at Britain SEIBE PRICE, SEIBERLING HAS, ON THE CONTRARY, ADDED TO BOTH. IN TODAY’S SEIBERLING ALL-TREAD, EVERY CORD IS A HEAVIER CORD, EVERY INCH OF FABRIC HAS MORE CORDS. EACH TIRE CONTAINS 25 PER CENT MORE COTTON. AND THE TREAD OF ALL SEIBERLING BALLOON TIRES IS INCREASED IN WIDTH ON AN AVERAGE OF TWENTY PER CENT—TWENTY PER CENT MORE RUBBER IN EACH TIRE. Not “as the Romans do”— but as the Romans BUILT. OHIO Sy gaat * These remarkable tires are now manufactured in Canada by Seiberling Rubber Company of Canada, Ltd., Toronto. They are available throughout the Dominion to those motor- ists who demand the best in quality—the most in material. Chosen for original equipment by the makers of the Chrysler Imperial "80", Marmon and Peerless. Selected, after severest competitive tests, by three hundred of America’s great Motor Coach lines. GQ)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST NEC) 5 A tire built by the most modern meth- ) Yo ods—but in which methods have never been a substitute for material. And now saat S f RON( ) F R the Seiberling All-Tread contains even : : / | 1D 3 R more material than ever before. —A

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82 (Continued from Page 76) He took to carrying a rifle with him, on the pretext to himself of killing coyotes and wolves. But it is as well that he did not meet Little Dog at that time. In his brood- ing anger his hatred had settled on the Indian; by a sort of twisted reasoning, he blamed Kay’s defection on his lameness. “If I had been a whole man she would never have gone.” He was liabie to violent and explosive angers too. One day, coming over the top of a rise, he saw a gray wolf running and found a cow down and dying. He shot at the wolf and wounded it, and in a frenzy of passion he finished the job with his bare hands. He was ashamed of it when he had ceased to see red, and he carried a badly mangled finger for a long time. Later on, however, with every indication of a long winter to come, he buckled down to work. Day by day he picked up his poor stuff and brought it slowly in for feeding. Along with the other outfits, he planned for the preservation of winter pastures, not to be grazed over until it was needed later on. Owing to the scarcity of grass, the cattle ranged far; forty acres was hardly enough for a cow now, and later it might need more. He covered incalculable distances in the saddle, to go back at night to an untidy house which was cold beyond his power to warm it. The water would be frozen in the kitchen pail, the remnants of his last meal still on the table, his bed unmade. Finally he nailed heavy papers over the windows and at Jeast kept out the wind. It made it dark and gloomy, but as he seldom entered it in daylight it did not matter. He hardly ever went to Judson. George and Sally had asked no questions after the first, ‘‘ Wife’s gone East, I understand.” Tom knew how news traveled up and down the railroad. He nodded. “Her mother’s sick.” “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. What you needin’ today?” Once he saw Bill. A freight had pulled in for water, and from the cupola of the caboose he saw Bill waving. He limped over and climbed in. It might have been the same car in which he and Bill had gone to Chicago; the same worn black leather berths, the same stove and tin coffeepot in the center; the same desk for the conduc- tor, with its oil lamp, its green order slips, its calendar, time-tables and box of pipe tobacco; the same fuses and torpedoes in their places on the wall. But Bill was con- strained. “Hear you've got quite a herd of your own now.” “You can call it that. this job?” *'S all right. 1 get to hankering now an’ then for a horse— you know how it is—but it’s not so bad.” The engineer whistled to call in the other brakeman, the train jerked. “Well, I’m off. So long, Bill.”’ “So long, Tom.” That was ali. Tom turned and waited until the train pulled out. Bill was up in his chair in the cupola egain, leaning out and grinning. “Remember the night you threw the Swede off?” “Sure do!” The train moved on and Tom was left on the platform, staring after it. Then he drew hiraself up. There had been pity in that last look of Bill's. It was soon afterward that Kay’s letter arrived. He took it quietly, put it in his pocket and left town. Only when he was well out on the frozen road did he dare to open it and read it. It was like a blow be- tween the eyes. She still believed he had been unfaithful to her, after all he had told Still like her! “Maybe all men are unfaithful to their wives, or at least disloyal ——-_ And I did love you sc dreadfully, Tom.” Did! Did! Well, that was clear enough anyhow. She had cared for him, but now she was through. He took to brooding over that phrase, in the saddie, in his untidy house. More than THE SATURDAY once he got out paper and ink and set him- self to answer it. He would sit there, his elbows squared, the pen held in his cold and roughened hands, trying to think how to put all his seething thoughts into words. But he could not do it. What could he say that would bring her back? Why should she come back to this, anyhow, or to him? Once he roused in the icy dawn, to find that he had slept all night by the table, his head on the paper. He wakened stiff with the cold. He worked on doggedly, but the heart had gone out of him. Fortunately he had little leisure in which to think; the struggle for existence for himself and his herd ab- sorbed him utterly. He was never rested, he was always cold. Out on the range, in the piercing wind, it was nothing unusual to find his rope, his saddle blanket and his latigo frozen stiff. Luckily the snows were not heavy until the first of the year. His dry stock, wintering outside in breaks or broken places, followed the ridges blown bare of snow and somehow managed to sub- sist. His poor cows and his calves he fed, going short on provisions for himself to buy oil cake. When, on the range, he met other cow- boys muffled to the ears, he heard similar tales of woe, but with this difference—they could go back to the line camps and be fed. When they needed oil cake they could get it, even if grudgingly, from the owners. But Tom had no such resource. He was de- termined not to go to Tulloss for money and not to touch what Kay had left in the bank. He would make good or starve. There came times when Kay almost faded from his mind. She became an in- tolerable memory, associated with days of warmth and sunshine and hope. He did not know it was Christmas Eve until he met a lonely line rider on the range. The day was dark, with a fine hard snow driving in his face. He was almost on the other man be- fore he saw him. “Hell of a Christmas Eve, isn’t it?” “Didn’t know it was Christmas Eve.” They passed and were lost in the storm. Tom rode on, his head bent, letting the horse choose the way. So this was Christ- mas Eve! A long time ago, years and zons ago, he and Kay had sat on a little porch in the sunshine and had planned for Christ- mas. “T’'m going to get some turkeys so we can have one on Christmas. Isn’t Christ- mas without turkey.” “T’ll have to look it up in the cookbook.” “Shucks! I'll show you how to fix it. You’ve married a cook, Mrs. McNair, if I do say it.” He got home that night and took off his boots. He had made a bootjack now, so he could do it alone. Then, for some reason he could not explain, he hunted around and found a candle and put it in the window. He had seen a Mexican puncher do that once, a long time ago, on Christmas Eve. “What you doin’ that for, Mex?” “Maybe somebody outside and want to come in,’”’ said Mex mysteriously. So he lighted his candle and sat looking at it, and after a while he slept in his ae So far there had been little snow. The temperature fell as low as twenty-six de- grees below zero once or twice, and Tom carried an ice ax on his saddle to cut water holes in the frozen creeks; it required strength and skill, for to cut where the water would flow over the ice might mean a steer down with a broken leg. But soon after the first of the year the snow began to come down in earnest. Tom wakened one morning to find the mountains glitter- ing white, like snowy giants over which had been carelessly flung a robe of gray. And this gray was the pine trees, now strangely the color of sage. The ranch buildings seemed flattened out, familiar rocks had lost their contours, and with every breath of the icy wind the cottonwoods by the creek sent down soft snowfalls of their own. He rode into a line camp that day, to hear that Gus, the Swede from the L. D., was still on his homestead and likely to be EVENING POST snowed in. Tom had had no particular liking for Gus, but the law of the frontier was still the law of the back country: No man to be passed by in trouble. The next day he packed some of his small supply of food on an extra horse and rode the eight miles to Gus’ cabin near the foot of the mountains. The snow was still falling, the road no road but only a track, and that deeply covered. But by watching his landmarks he found the place, and was only just in time. As he opened the gate he saw that the snow around the cabin was not broken, except for a few dog tracks, and that no smoke was rising from the chimney. He concluded that Gus had gone, and might have turned back, had he not heard the dog barking inside. Then he opened the door. There was some daylight outside, but the one room was dark. There was no fire, but a heavy sickening stench hung over every- thing. There was no sound when he first opened the door; then a small black-and- white shepherd dog came crawling to him, and Gus’ deeply accented and familiar voice spoke from one of the built-in bunks. “Come in, stranger,” it said. “You're yust in time.” Piled in the bunk on top of him was a heterogeneous collection of wearing apparel, a saddle blanket, and a coyote skin, badly cured and odorous, and above these cover- ings his gaunt unshaven face was lifted. “Sick, Gus?” “T run an ax into my foot here some time back and the thing’s festering.” Festering it certainly was. Tom, work- ing about the cabin after examining it, won- dered if he could get Gus out after all. The Swede was feverish; he had had little food for a week, and for the past day or two had been eating snow for water. He could not get to the creek. But that was not the worst of his grievance. His two horses had been stolen. As he ate and drank the coffee Tom made he grew more garrulous. It was ‘plain that his fever was rising. He began to ramble. Tom gathered that he knew who had taken his horses, and tried to find out, but Gus’ eyes grew cunning. “That’s my business,” he said shortly. “Yust keep out. I'll attend to it.” Later on he fell asleep; he tossed and muttered, but when he roused he was ap- parently rational enough. Tom was over- whelmingly weary. He piled wood on the fire and lay down in the bunk across, and was soon asleep. He was roused by the creaking of boards and opened his eyes. A long knife in his hand, Gus was coming stealthily across the floor; his eyes were blazing, his face tense. Tom sat up. “Here!” he said. ‘“‘ What’re you doing?” “T’d have had him in a minute!” Gus bawled. “Had who?” “That pack rat. He was yust over your head. He’s the one that’s carried off most of my grub.” Grumbling, Gus went back to his bunk and to sleep, but Tom did not close his eyes again. He never knew the truth—whether there had been a pack rat above him that night or whether Gus, in a fit of delirium, and dreaming of some mysterious revenge, had meant to kill him. The next day he got him out and sent ‘him to the hospital at Ursula. Some time later on Tom heard he had lost the foot; then he lost sight of him for months, until it was time for Gus to take his place in that small and unimportant drama of the back country which was Tom McNair’s life. But the snow continued to fall, and Tom’s anxiety for his herd steadily increased. The drifts banked high against drift fences; it even covered the ridges, usually wind-swept and clear. On the railroad great snow plows dug into the mass, flung it to right and left and cleared the track, only to have it buried again. By keeping on high ground Tom could get about, although slowly, to see his cattle snowed in in the washes and coulees below. They had gnawed every twig and branch, had eaten the tops of the June 11,1927 scant bushes, even the bitter sage where they could get at it. Some had made their way to the ranch and stood outside his fences, snuffing hungrily at the hay spread in the feeding yard under the shelter sheds for his weaners, his cows and calves. They made an incessant mournful plea which almost drove him mad, but he was helpless. The snow fell, thawed, froze, fell again. Ruin stared him in the face. Steers went down and did not rise again. He made a circuit of the line camps, to find the hay shovelers working overtime and no feed to spare at any price; and even if he could have bought it at the railroad, he could not have freighted it in. Then one night he hit on something. He went home, cooked a bit of supper and then taking a lantern went out to the barn. The horses stirred uneasily when he entered. He limped through to the corral and found two strong logs and some lumber left from his repairing of the house; he dragged them inside, found his tools and set to work. In that terrible freezing silence the sound of his hammer was like pistol shots, but in a couple of hours he had made a crude snow plow. He went to bed then, without taking off his clothes, and in the early morning he began again. Harness, this time. He had only two horses broken to harness, but he had no time to worry about that. He took latigos, raw leather, anything he could find, and by noon he started out. The broken team led, and after a time the other horses fell to work. He could not touch the drifts, but on the ridges he cleared a track, doubled on it, widened it. The cattle were terrified; he had later to round them up and drive them to the exposed grass, scanty as it was. But they learned before long; they even followed the plow. For the time at least they were saved. He was completely exhausted, almost snow-blind. The rims of his eyes were swollen and excruciatingly painful, he limped badly, he had not shaved for three weeks. He went back to the house, fell on his unmade bed and slept twenty-four hours before he moved. When he got about again he heard ter- rible tales of disaster. Only the disappear- ance of the snow would enable the cattlemen to total their losses; but compared with theirs, his own were negligible. He was not through, of course. Early in February came a chinook. A warm wind began to blow, the snow melted rapidly, and the cattle, inured now to the cold, began to drop all over the pastures. They would get down and be too enervated to rise, and there they would lie until they died unless they were forced to their feet again. Once again he began his battle, this time to tail them up. It took all his strength and more agility than his bad foot permitted him. More than once a tailed steer, on its feet and angry, tried to hook him. Once, indeed, he was knocked down, but the animal was too unsteady to pursue its advantage. But at last, miraculously, the spring came. In the tracks made by his snow plow, in the bare spaces on the ridges, the brown grass took on a greenish hue. The nights were still cold, but at midday the sun was warm. His eyes commenced to im- prove. His cows began to drop their calves, awkward little creatures, pop-eyed and dazed; they lay for a time, moved, got up, and stood gazing about on legs which still shook under them. He felt no exultation; only a vague relief. xL ATHERINE died in May. She lay in her Empire bed draped with primrose silk, with her hair carefully marceled and dressed as usual. And the undertaker had put a little—just a very little—rouge on her dead cheeks, so that she looked quite well and as if she were sleeping. Naturally Henry, being Henry, saw that her departure on her long journey was at- tended by adequate ceremonial. Exactly the right people came, much as they had (Continued on Page 84)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST / ny woman who sweeps or beats a rug is tiring herself needlessly. A can do it for 1% cents an hour You can buy, from any electrical dealer, household helpers having electrical equip ment made by the General Electric Com pany and bearing the G-E monogram This monogram is on fans and MAZDA lamps, and on motors that run vacuum Ask your electrical company or dealer to hel ou select the cleaners, washing machines, dishwashers y pany py labor-saving electric appliances best suited for your home. sewing machines, and many other labor savers. GENERAL ELECTRIC

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THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 82) come to tea in happier times, the men in morning coats and dark ties, taking their silk hats carefully in with them for fear of damage in the hall; the women in rich dark clothes. From upstairs in her bedroom Kay could hear the rustlings and whisper- ing, followed by the silence which meant the bishop had taken his place on the stairs, and then strong and full-voiced, reassuring, came his voice: “‘T am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” She could not cry. An hour or so before the service her father had gone into Katherine’s bedroom and closed the door. It was not, she thought, that he had de- liberately shut her out, but that he had for- gotten her. Somewhere across the hall were Aunt Bessie, other and more distant rela- tives, the close friends. She sat in a chair and looked at her hunds. They were very white, once more, against her black frock. “First thing you’ve got to do is to get those hands healed up.” Well, they were healed up now. But she must not think of that; not now, when her mother was dead, and downstairs they were committing her’soul to God and her body to the soil. The soil! She herself had fought the soil and it had beaten her. Later on they went, rather rapidly, to the cemetery. There was a sort of indecent haste about it; instead of the slow and mournful carriage procession of her child- hood, moving with reluctance toward the outskirts of town, the long line of auto- mobiles twisted and darted through the traffic. It was an incredibly short time until they were standing on heavy mats under a great marquee, with a rose-lined pit at their feet and old Lucius’ ugly shaft towering beside it. What was it her mother had wanted to put on the shaft? “‘He has followed the trail into the sunset.”” And they had not let her do it. Her poor mother. “‘ Your mother’s different, but she hadn’t your courage. She never did get away.”’ Well, she had got away now. Her poor mother. “Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God ——” It had been raining. They made their way back to the limousine over a thin moist covering, into which Aunt Bessie’s high heels sank and left little pits behind her. She was very smart in her black clothes; she always looked her best in black. And the best people followed decorously, also making small pits in the ground, and got into their limousines and drove rapidly home for tea and a rest before dressing for dinner. Kay was stunned. She had known that it would come, but the dreadful finality of it, the horror of leaving that delicate, care- fully nurtured body out there alone in the cold earth was horrible to her. And with this there was remorse, that she had added EVENING POST to the distress of the last few months, that she might even have hastened the end. In the car she reached out and took her father’s hand, but although he pressed it, he released it very soon. He sat staring ahead, his silk hat just grazing the top of the car, his heavy figure lurching with the movement of the car, dry-eyed, silent, solitary. She could not reach him. She never had reached him really. After a while Bessie opened her vanity case and powdered her reddened nose, and then they were at home again. The sickly odor of flowers still hung over the house, the servants and the under- taker’s men were folding up the camp chairs and carrying them out, and in the hall was Herbert, correctly dressed, with exactly the proper dark tie, overseeing the straightening of the house. She had hardly seen him all winter. He looked thin, but his hair was as sleek as ever. And if he paled somewhat when he saw her, he did not lose his composure. “I’ve ordered tea,” he said. “It will be in at once.” She went into the drawing-room, and rather to her surprise he followed her. “T need not tell you how grieved I am, Kay.” “ No; thing “Yes?” “‘T think I shortened her life.” “Not at all. I’ve been over that with the doctors. I was afraid you would think so. They say it was a purely physical condition and—I think I ought to tell you this, Kay; I always knew that in her heart she felt you had done the right thing. At the beginning, after you had gone, I used to see her. She never actually said so, but ax “And then she found it wasn’t the right thing after all!” He looked at her gravely. wrong as all that, Kay?” “I was all wrong, I think. You are being very kind to me, Herbert. I thought you would hate me.”’ “Never. If I really loved you I had to put your happiness first.” “Happiness!” she said. ‘‘ What is happi- ness anyhow, Herbert? To want some- thing and get it? But then the moment one got it one would have to go on wanting something else! There isn’t such a thing then, is there?” “Not all the time,” he said steadily. “You can’t live on a mountain top always. But there is contentment, and now and then the bigger thing comes.” Bessie joined them for tea, but Mr. Dowling remained in his library. Kay, looking across, could see him working at his desk, and knew that he was himself ad- dressing the handsomely engraved cards which thanked their friends for their flowers and letters of sympathy. But there was one message of condolence which received no acknowledgment. I know, Herbert. The only

“Was it as

June 11,1927 On the day after her mother’s death she had sent a brief telegram to Tom: ‘“ Mother passed away quietly yesterday.”” His reply did not come for almost a week. That did not surprise her. She knew what the roads must be. But the message itself, with its bitterness, was like a blow in the face: “Sorry to hear of your trouble, but there are worse things than reaching the end of the trail after a hard day.” No suggestion that, now that her con- tract had expired, she could return to him. A perfunctory sympathy, an implied re- proach, and that was all. She thought back over her letter to him last autumn; she had told him she would come back if he wanted her, but it had been a hard letter, in away. Ifshe were writing now, it would be different. How could one be hard when life was so insecure at the best, and so short? When every time the clock ticked there was just so much less time to live, to love and to be loved. When to quarrel was to lose precious time—time, which was all one had. She found that her mother had made a will, leaving her all her small estate. It was not much, but she had taken great happi- ness in doing it. It had been Bessie Os- borne’s suggestion. “You know Henry as well as I do,”’ she had said, more gently than the words would indicate. ‘All the Dowling men have used money as a club over their women. And Kay has her own life to live. If she wants to go back West ——”’ “Do you think she does?” “IT don’t know. But she ought to be able to if she should. She’ll get all I have, of course, but I ——”’ She had stopped abruptly. It would not do to say to this dying woman that she, Bessie Osborne, expected to live a long time yet, and to enjoy every minute of it. “‘T think she ought to be free to make her own choice,” she finished, rather lamely. So Katherine, like old Lucius, had made her will; and after it was signed and wit- nessed, just before it was put into the heavy envelope and sealed, she added a line or two in pencil: “My darling girl: You must make your own choice, and maybe this will help. Do what you think is best. I only want you to be happy.” Kay almost broke her heart over that when she saw it. Later on, able to think it over more calmly, she realized that one cannot devise happiness by will. Henry had resumed his life decorously and regularly; save for the band of crape on his left arm, he exhibited no signs of his loss. He was more detached perhaps. He spent more hours in his library, looking ahead at nothing at all. But for any part Kay had in {nis life, she might not have been in the house. His office, his club, his dinner, and then an early going to bed comprised his days. He went to church as usual, creaked decorously up the aisle for the (Continued on Page 87)

PHOTO. FROM UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, CHICAGO, LL. A Stream Near One of the Chicago Suburbs

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YOU THE SATURDAY EVENING POST "BE SURE YOURE RIGHT THEN GO AHEAD~™ No matter how confident you may be that a certain car is the one you want to buy, you can’t be sure unless you compare it with others at about the price you wish to pay. Perhaps you need not pay that much to gratify your finer tastes as well as satisfy your every need. Or, you may be denying yourself the full measure of satisfaction to save merely the few dollars more that would bring you an Oldsmobile. So come to your Oldsmobile show- room and go over this truly great car, point by point. Drive it—that is the way to really know it. And even if you do not change your mind, you then can make your choice with truer satisfaction. You owe it to yourself to select— to choose by comparison. “Be sure you’re right, then go ahead.” But you'll never be sure till you drive an Oldsmobile. { DE LUXE TOURING °Q8Q F. 0. B. LANSING |} OLDSMOBILE CSP 85 L NEVER BE SURE TILL YOU DRIVE AN

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86 THE No Tooth too Remote for the Curved to Reach Are all your teeth easy to reach and clean? See how easy it is with this Note the curved bristle EE the big end tuft. This is a fea- s_J ture that enables you to get away in the back of your mouth and scrub those hard-to-get-at molars. And in helping you to do all this, the curved handle of the Pro-phy-lac-tic plays a big part. It conforms to the formation of the jaw, which makes it easy and com- It is common sense from start to finish, with the definite aim of enabling you to reach every tooth in your mouth. Sold in three sizes by all dealers in fortable to use. Always sold in the yellow box SATURDAY EVENING POST Pro-phy-lac-tic Tooth Brush. surface. how it contacts with every tooth. When this curve was designed, every single tooth was considered. See the United States, Canada, and all over the world. Prices in the United States and Canada are: Pro-phy-lac-tic Adult, soc; Pro-phy-lac-tic Small, 40c; Pro-phy-lac-tic Baby, 25c. Made in three different bristle textures—hard, medium, soft—and with white handles or colored transparent handles—red, green, or orange. For those who prefer a larger bristle surface, we make the Pro-phy-lac-tic with four rows of bristles. Price 6oc. Always sold in the yellow box. FREE—an interesting booklet con- taining valuable information on care of the teeth © 1927, P. B. Co June 1, 1927 ON’T try to use your Pro-phy-lac-tic too long. Because of the high quality of the bristles in Pro-phy-lac-tic Brushes, they never seem to wear out. But the elas- ticity, the springiness, of the bristle, which is so important for effective cleansing, may be lessened. Be on the safe side. Try a new Pro-phy-lac-tic Brush and compare its “feel” with the old one. With twice-a-day brushing, you will need a new Pro-phy- lac-tic about every three months. It is a good idea to keep several new Pro-phy- lac-tic Brushes on hand. To present one in the yellow box to an overnight guest is a thoughtful courtesy. Pro-phy-lac-tic Brush Company Dept. 16, Florence, Mass. Please send me your instructive booklet on the care and preservation of the teeth, PGicdcasa se bs emcees City

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(Continued from Page 84) plate, passed it, returned with it, stood until the offertory was finished and the morning collection elevated before the altar, returned to his seat. At the proper times he prayed. But now and then she found his eyes on her, with a furtive sort of appeal in them. It never went further than that, and as the days went and he resumed his ordinary routine she wondered if she had been mis- taken. Did he need her? Or did he care? They were not often alone; his friends dropped in, elderly men like himself, pros- perous, slightly dull, their illusions lost, their enthusiasms long dead. She studied them sometimes. These men seemed to ask so little of life; good food and comfortable shelter, a busy day at the office, a few old friends. Did they ever lie awake at night and listen to the clock ticking away the time? Time, which was all they had left, and which was rapidly decreasing. She contrasted them with the men she knew in the West, men as old as them- selves but fighting to the end; wearing out, not rusting. Perhaps success was like happiness; there was nosuch thing. It was unseen on a transport—or how, arriving there, he made his way unerringly to the section where his master’s regiment was quartered. But the tale was proved true, and the little dog lived long thereafter to revel in his self-made fame. Automobile Experts Returning to Sunnybank from a day in town, in premotor times, I used to drive from the train across a concrete bridge about a mile distant from our house. At least fifty horses crossed that bridge every hour. The roadbed above the concrete and ironwork deadened the hoof beats so that they were no louder to the human ear than if they had been padding along an ordinary dirt road. But the instant my horse’s hoofs struck that bridge our great old collie, Lad, would bound up from the soundest sleep, wherever he might be, and would set off at a gallop to meet me. He paid no heed at all to the crossing of the bridge by any horses other than our own. But his ears had learned to distinguish one equine tread from all others. After motor cars replaced the leisurely pleasant horse-driving era, no fewer than four of our Sunnybank collies could dis- tinguish the sound of our cars from all others, whether on that same mile-distant bridge or elsewhere. To human ears one motor engine sounds like another. But many dog owners will bear me out in saying that their dogs teach themselves to know unerringly the throb of their masters’ automobiles, and can tell them from all others. An even harder thing to understand is a dog’s power to follow his master’s car by the scent of its wheels. When you remem- ber that tires are changed frequently this ability seems the more uncommon. One dog is credited with tracing his owner’s car in that way for nearly a hundred miles, part of the route through city traffic. I don’t claim that all dogs can do any of the things I have been describing. But so many dogs can do one or all of them that it is far more than a mere exception. How it is done, I cannot guess. Yet it is a distinct and natural trait, as normal to dogs as is reading or writing to us. In Colonial days the New England In- dians were amazed—so say ancient rec- ords—at the magic power of white men to make words from the seemingly meaning- less marks on a piece of paper. Humans are just as amazed at canine actions which could be explained in the same matter-of- fact way. THE SATURDAY only the fight for it that mattered. When you need not fight any more —— It was not until three weeks after her mother’s death that the question of her future course became imminent. Her father called her into the library, and as he had when she first came back, fortified himself by placing the desk between them. “Have you decided what you intend to do now?” “That depends on you, father. need me ——’”’ He waved that aside with a gesture. “Your mother,” he said, and paused— “your mother wished you to have full freedom of choice. You have followed your agreement with me, and ——” “T did not stay only for that reason.” “T understand that. But I must know your plans now; I must know where I am. I have had an offer for this house. Of course if you stay I shall not sell.” “You don’t really need me at all, do you, father?” “You cannot take your mother’s place, but of course I shall miss you.” And again she caught that half-stealthy appealing glance of his, of which he was ashamed. If you EVENING POST “On the other hand, if you wish to go back to that fellow —— Have you heard from him?” “TI had a telegram when mother went away.” “You have been corresponding?” “No. I wrote him I was staying on, but he—never answered.” That angered him. His florid color, which had been subdued lately, rose high; he ran his finger inside his collar. “And after an affront like that you are ready to go back to him! Where is your pride? Are you going to tell me that a daughter of mine would force herself on a man who doesn’t want her?” The scene, for it amounted to that, went on. He was angry at Tom for not wanting her, but he would have been equally furious had he done so. She could not reason; after a time she could not even talk. It seemed to her that nobody really cared, except as a matter of pride, what she did—except Herbert. She began to think of Herbert as at least representing peace, as against the truculence of her father and Tom’s stormy nature. She was not startled therefore when he was brought into the conversation. A gentleman. A kindly gentleman who PSYCHOLOGY STUFF (Continued from Page 5) A phase of this sound-and-scent gift is a dog’s ability to know his master’s or mis- tress’ mood, or anyone else’s, no matter how cleverly the mood is hidden. All dog observers have noted that. Here is an in- stance of it: A dog came trotting to meet me one eve- ning as I neared a friend’s house. In the dim light I thought I recognized him as a familiar acquaintance. So I stooped and petted him, rumpling his ears and calling him by name. Later in the evening my host said his old dog had died a few weeks earlier and that his present dog was viru- lently savage with strangers. I told of my own meeting with the dog, and that he had been friendly with me. Yet secretly I won- dered how I had escaped an ugly bite in my careless petting of such a ferocious brute as his owner described. The dog was lying on the veranda as I came out. Somewhat cautiously, and only with a desire to prove to my host that I had not been bragging, I called the dog again by name and put out my hand to stroke his head. With a wild-beast snarl he leaped at my throat. Hard to Fool An hour earlier he had met my advances with no show of hostility. But an hour earlier I had not been afraid of him. How did he know afterward that I was afraid? Perhaps some subnote of apprehension was in my voice. Perhaps my gesture lacked assurance as I started to pat him. But to me my voice sounded steady enough and my hand did not hesitate. Any human would have been fooled into thinking I was quite at ease. The dog knew better. Long ago I read a treatise, whose title and whose author’s name I have forgotten, which claimed that fright or even the mild- est apprehension causes a faint odor to ex- hale from the pores, and that all animals can detect and read aright this scent of fear. Numerous instances were cited to prove it. Perhaps my experience with the strange dog may have come under this head. The theory is not my own. But it may also account for the known fact that many a savage dog will permit a fearless baby to haul him about and hurt him. Our fiery little red collie, Sunnybank Wolf, would suffer no stranger to touch him. Yet a two-year-old child once climbed on his back and drove her heels delightedly into his ribs and yanked his sensitive ears. Wolf reveled fatuously in this gross famil- iarity, which would have been resented to the death if any adult had tried it. Wolf was the mistress’ car dog, ever rid- ing on the seat beside her. If a neighbor approached the car at such times the collie was fiercely on guard. A hand laid on the car was the signal for a furious attack. One evening as we were waiting for the mail a friend came out of the post office and walked up to the car, resting his arm on its door top, and saying: ‘*We’re pretty unhappy at our house to- night. My dog was run over and killed this afternoon.” The Stranger at the Gate There were tears in the man’s eyes and his throat was rough. Wolf whimpered softly, then leaned down and licked the alien hand that rested on the door. A month later, when the same man touched the door, Wolf flew at him in rage. Perhaps scent or perhaps only hearing had some- thing to do with the collie’s first attitude. I think it is this gift of scent or of hearing which teaches dogs to read their owners’ moods. In any event it is a trait as normal to them as is word comprehension to humans. I have seen dogs refuse to stay in the same room with owners who were drinking heav- ily. Before the first sign of drunkenness was noticeable to other humans, these dogs were aware of it by sound or scent and dis- gustedly they slunk out. I have known three such happenings and I have heard of others. I do not vouch for the following anec- dote, which passed current in the village of Pompton Lakes, New Jersey, in my boy- hood and which puts a reverse English on this boozophobia trait: There was an oldster on the village’s out- skirts whose nose came honestly by its ver- milion hue. Every Saturday night, as soon as he drew his week’s pay, he would de- scend upon the local speak-easy. Sometime after midnight, or whenever his money was all gone, he would turn homeward in a con- dition of mentality which made the road’s width seem of far greater import to him than its length. Ever, as he reached his own gate, his faithful collie was waiting there to guide - S/ could and would care for her, accerding to her father. A man of her own breeding and stamp. Good blood, good looks, good family. But she said the first thing that came into her head, and was instantly sorry for it. ““That’s the way they describe a pedigree bull out Wesc.”’ He got up, moved around the desk and opened the door for her. “T see that I have been wasting my time,”’ he said, and she went out. Early in June they moved out to the country house, and one day she went out onto the terrace, to see Herbert coming up the drive in his car. “Won't you come and take a ride?” he asked. “I won’t even talk if you want to be quiet.” She went. Why not? They drove a couple of miles before she spoke: “I'm glad you came, Herbert. I was feeling rather—lonely.” “T thought you might,” he said quietly “You see, I know what loneliness means.” She was warmed by that, somewhat com- forted. After all, to be loved was something. It was easier than loving; it hurt less. (TO BE CONCLUDED) the wanderer’s heavily accented steps safely up the winding path and up the suddenly tricky stairs. For years the dog had waited thus on Saturday night for the return of his besotted god. Then one pay evening the thirstily ex- pectant roisterer arrived at the village, to find that the Civic League had shut down every source of drink. For hours he roamed disconsolately from place to place, seeking in vain to allay his raging thirst. At last, frustrated and forlorn, he turned his steps homeward. For the first Saturday night in ten years he was coming home dead-cold sober. The faithful dog was waiting, as usual, at the gate. But as this utter stranger turned soberly and steadily in at the gate- way the collie remembered his own duties as a watchdog. He flew at the man and bit himin three places. As I said, I do not vouch for this pathetic yarn, though it was attested by many an old-timer in my own distant youthful days. Airedales, pointers and dogs of divers other breeds have figured in even more puzzling experiences. One of the psycho- logical traits shared by many dogs of many kinds is the instinctive dread and avoid- ance of any rabid or otherwise unbalanced animal. True, some fool dogs will trot over to in- vestigate a strange cur that is running amok down the street, just as some fool humans will test the cleaving powers of a buzz saw or argue with a big man who is fighting drunk. But wiser dogs give such a brute the widest possible berth when they can, even the pluckiest of them. Sound or scent tells them he is not normal, as it tells them their master is no longer normal after his severalth consecutive drink. And they keep out of the way. Mad-Dog Madness There is more profoundly hysterical talk of rabies and less actual knowledge of it than of any other menace on earth. Rabies exists, even as the sleeping sickness and leprosy and ossification exist. But it is one of the rarest of canine diseases. Not one supposedly mad dog in many hundreds actually is rabid. A dog is mortally sick and tries to get away to some quiet place to die, or a dog is lost in a crowded street and is driven wild with terror and confusion by the pursuit of small boys, or a dog is tortured with thirst on a red-hot day, or has a fit. At sight of his uncertain gait and foaming jaws up goes the panic yell of ‘‘Mad dog!"’ That (Continued on Page 930)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11, 1927

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A | anv p iuZXY . Pe ran) Pd

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if it flexes at the point. Is your pen friendly to your fingers? The flexible osmiridium point of The Carter Pen does the work— saves the fingers from the strain felt from writing with a stiff, unyielding pen point. It is 2 revelation in pen comfort. And os- miridium is the most durable pen point material known. C The Carter Rocker Spring Clip is your protection against a frayed pen pocket. Built into the cap so that a slight pressure on the spring opens clip to release and re- place the pen—with- out pulling or jamming the pocker. See the new pen— made in a beautiful mottled bhue of un- breaxable Coralite. Tue Carter's INK Co. Boston Montreal New York Chicago Fer blue-black iaks use Carter's Fountain Pes Ink or Carter's Ryto; for blue ink use Carter's Blue-Rex. Tren TER THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 87) cry is ever lurking, eager for utterance, in the fear swamps at the back of human brains. The crowd forms, the bellowingly wary chase begins, and someone wins honor by firing six wabbly-aimed shots into the body of a pup that is probably friendly and harmless. The genuinely rabid dog seldom will swerve an inch from his path to attack. On he runs, lurchingly, snapping at the air— and at nothing else which does not come within his direct line of travel—until he drops from exhaustion. He is little more likely to turn aside to chase a human or any other dog than is a typhoid patient likely to pursue his doctor up an alleyway with an ax. A bite census was gleaned from several big-city dog pounds a year or two ago and the results were published. Some of the | figures. covered a period of more than a | quarter century. The toll of impounded dogs ran high up into the thousands. The number of bites received by poundkeepers | and dog catchers was appallingly large. But out of all those innumerable bites not one employe had incurred rabies or any other lasting injury. It has been estimated that S. P. C. A. | employes have handled in all more than a | million dogs, and this without the recording of one case of true rabies among such han- dlers. In Constantinople and in countless | other Eastern cities for a thousand years stray dogs were tenfold more plentiful than they are in any American city. Yet rabies | among Orientals was almost unheard of. The Key to the Lockjaw Those facts by themselves ought to form a fairly sufficient exorciser of the mad-dog | bugaboo. The dog catcher’s prey is made up chiefly of the stray and sick dogs which are reputed to be the most virulent rabies carriers. New York’s Health Commis- sioner cites only nine reputed deaths from rabies in that city of about 6,000,000, since 1920—an average of less than one rabies death a year to every 3,000,000 people. At Sunnybank some years ago the gen- tlest and friendliest of my collies showed alarming signs of what was declared to be dumb rabies. She had all the book-and- veterinary symptoms. Her jaws were wide | open and would not close. She was in evi- dent agony. Hour after hour she had stood over a water trough, trying vainly to drink. I came home from a short absence and found her in this deplorable state. At first she had foamed at the mouth—and foam- ing at the mouth is one of the easiest and least important things a sick or worried dog does—but now her mouth was dry and blackening and her bloodshot eyes were glazed. She was ready for a pistol bullet. My orders alone had been awaited before she should be put to death. But the orders were not given. I asked how long she had been stricken. I was told the attack came on in the very middle of a hearty meal. Even the local vet did not catch the ab- surdity of that symptom. I took hold of her hot jaws and examined her mouth. A chorus of protest warned me against such folly. I pointed out that if she could not close her jaws she could not very well bite me or anyone else, and I went on with my examination. I had a pretty cer- tain idea what I should find, and I found it. In the far-back hinge connecting her upper and lower jaws, on the left side, I saw a bit of mutton knuckle bone, half as large as the first joint of my thumb. It had | become jammed there as she was gnawing it, and it had held the jaws apart with as | merciless thoroughness as a fitted wedge in a hinge would hold wide a door. It was not | easy to work loose the lump of bone. It | took all the strength of my fingers. But as soon as I had removed it the tired jaws sagged together and the luckless collie plunged her head into the nearest water, drinking madly until I pulled her away from the trough lest she die of a more real malady than pseudo rabies. For days in EVENING POST midsummer she had suffered agonies of thirst and hunger and discomfort. And it had not occurred to anyone to seek a saner and infinitely likelier cause for her mis- fortune than the dreaded dumb rabies. Too often, when a dog is ailing, rabies is the instant diagnosis. Nobody takes the trouble to hunt for a simpler solution of the trouble. As wisely diagnose every prickly heat rash as incipient smallpox. I have known five instances among my own friends’ kennels where a dumb-rabies verdict was given against a suffering dog whose jaws were fixed and wide, and where a morsel of bone proved to be the sole disease germ. Please don’t think I am belittling genuine rabies. It does exist. But it is almost negli- gibly uncommon in most parts of America and it is practically unknown in modern England. I have been bitten again and again in the course of my lifetime acquaintance with dogs. Two of the biters were said to be mad. Thus far I have not developed rabies to any alarming extent. I have but one form of treatment for dog bites, a treat- ment which I and thousands of other folk have found 100 per cent effective, and which I think any physician will indorse. Here is the idea: A dog bite is as dangerous, no more, no less, as would be a similar wound from a piece of sharp metal or bone or other in- organic substance; plus any infection—not germ of rabies—that may be on the dog’s teeth. Asarule, there is no infection on the teeth of a healthy dog. If the bite is where your lips can reach it, suck it out thoroughly, then wash it in hot water. Dry it and paint it thickly with iodine. Then forget all about it. It will heal. If you are afraid the dog may have been sick or rabid use carbolic acid instead of iodine. Wrap a bit of cotton on the head of a match or sliver of wood. Dip it into carbolic acid and swab out the wound with it. This will hurt most annoyingly and the burn will last for some days. But it will kill any chance of infection if it be done soon enough. I said, ‘Then forget all about it.”’ This is not the least important part of the cure. You can worry yourself into a right de- lirious state of fright if you are foolish enough, and you can attribute every head- ache and twinge of rheumatism for weeks thereafter to incipient rabies. Treat the hurt, mentally and physically, as if it had been made by a nail point or by the teeth of a comb. This long-winded dissertation on dog bites may have been dull reading to you, but it may save you from wakeful nights of worry if ever you or anyone close to you should chance to be bitten. That is psy- chology too—human this time, not canine. Lead a Dog to Water No fewer than forty people have written, asking me to indorse or to condemn the bills in various legislatures for the com- pulsory inoculation of all dogs against rabies. These letters go unanswered. I have no practical knowledge and no opinion on the subject. The serum may be effec- tive, or it may be injurious, so far as I know. It is a theme on which I am profoundly ig- norant. If your dog is moping or off his feed, here is a remedy which, three times out of five, will bring him back to health: Give him a tablespoonful of castor oil. Two table- spoonfuls, or even more, will do him no harm if he be fairly large. It is loathsome stuff, and he will detest taking it. But, whatever is amiss, the castor oil cannot harm him. More times than not, it will cure him. If he does not get well quickly after such a dose remember it is idiotic economy to try to save a two-dollar veterinary fee by giving continuous home treatment to a two- hundred-dollar dog. Send at once for the best vet within call. In the long run you will save money and heartache thereby. Remember also that the odds are more than a thousand to one against his having rabies. June 11,1927 It might be a sane idea for city councils to pause in their sporadic attempts to pre- vent rabies by muzzle and leash and special policing, long enough to pass an ordinance providing low and shallow drinking dishes to be placed here and there in shady spots and to be kept full of cool drinking water for stray dogs that are tortured by thirst. A dog does all his perspiring through his tongue. Unless a muzzle be of sensible type and strapped on in such way as to al- low him to pant, it is a torment and a men- ace. Also, his lolling tongue and dry throat demand frequent draughts of cool water. Of old, when a dog would not try to drink, it was supposed to be a sign he had hydro- phobia. As a matter of truth, when a dog will not try to drink, it is a sign of nothing except that he does not happen to be thirsty. Speaking of dogs and city councils, as a rule a large dog should not be kept in a large city. He is as bad for the city as the city is bad for him. I have refused, always, to sell a Sunnybank collie pup, at any price, to a buyer who lived in a metropolis. If other dog breeders would do the same, a growing wholesale nuisance and cruelty would be abated. A big dog in a city flat is as much out of place as a hawk in a canary cage. A five-minute romp in the country or suburbs is better for his health than is a five-mile miserable promenade on flagstones at the end of a leash. That is not only good psychology but good humanity. A Canine Psychologist Talking of dog psychology, I suppose the timeworn and never-settled question “Can dogs reason?’’ ought to come under that broad head. The question seems use- less to me, for I can see only one answer to it. I have found dozens of proofs, satis- factory to me, that dogs have a decidedly logical process of reasoning, and that the dullest of them does not rely solely on instinct. When I pick up my hat and coat every Sunnybank collie that happens to be in the house jumps to his feet, romping around me and then running eagerly to the front door. The dogs know from long experience that my donning of hat and coat implies a walk. If I lay down the outdoor garb without putting it on, they drop their ex- ultant manner and go back to the rugs where they were lying. Now that is a very simple illustration. But to me it proves the power of reason. Surely it is not instinct. Instinct is an in- born quality planted in the mind of animal or man and handed down more or less in- tact from the beginning of time. Fear, desire, play, warfare, sensory traits—these and the like are wholly instinctive. But a kennel dog, which never has been in a house and has not learned by observation to associate coats and hats with the out- doors, shows no sign of interest when such garments are put on or taken off. Thus it cannot be a hereditary racial instinct which makes your house dog caper wildly about you at this promise of a walk. The indoor dog has studied the action out in his own mind. From daily experience he has found that coats and hats are associated with the walk he loves. Reasoning is noth- ing more or less than a line of thought or of action based on personal experience or on precept. What clearer instance of reason- ing could a human give than is displayed by a dog that reacts to these preparations for a walk? In Northern California our car turned into a byway along which a wise little black collie was guiding a bunch of sheep. The advent of the unaccustomed machine made the sheep huddle and mill. They prepared to bolt in every direction. The dog did not hustle fussily around the bunch, keeping it intact. Instead, he sat down lazily in the middle of the road and opened his mouth in a cavernous‘yawn of utter boredom. At sight of his show of drowsy indifference to the approaching monster, the sheep calmed down. If their guardian could treat the (Continued on Page 32)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PRINCE ALBERT couldn’t have suited me better if I had made the blueprints myself, and superintended the entire job from soup to nuts! It fitted my smoke- taste perfectly the first time I tried it. I started right— with P.A.—and I’ve stayed with it. I wanted fragrance. I got it... both from the tobacco in the tidy red tin and in the smoke itself. Fragrance that re- minded me of woodland trails just after a soft, spring rain. I wanted mildness— mildness that would let me smoke from morning till midnight. P, A. was made-to-measure for me But mildness alone was not enough. I demanded a full, rich tobacco body that would satisfy my pipe-hankering on every fire-up. There again Prince Albert had my measure, right to the tick of the tape. Cool, long-burning, free from bite and parch—P. A. was all of these. You suspect by this time that I am satisfied with P.A. I'll tell the world I am! And I want to get it over to you that, if you don’t know P. A. by personal experience, you’ve got something com- ing to you . . . something mighty good. Try P.A., on the word of a friend! PRINCE ALBERT —no other tobacco 1927, R. J. Reynolds Tobacco ompany, jinston-Salem, N. C. is like it! P. A. is sold everywhere in tidy red tins, pound and half-pound tin humi- dors, and pound crystal-glass humidors with sponge-moistener top. And always with every bit of bute and parch removed by the Prince Albert process. 91

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\ bea /3 Sh |i ky C4 Fy not the ‘comfortable Great Northern” on your next visit to Chicago ? CHICAGO The Great Northern is in Chicago’s cen- tral business section, within one block of State St., the great shopping thoroughfare, and close to the theater, financial and wholesale districts. The Field Museum, The Art Institute and Soldier Field Stadium are within walking distance. . @NCAXIMUM service at minimum cost is attainable in a hotel of four hundred rooms. In greater size there is duplication without eco- nomic gain. The Great Northern’s interested service, distinguished by absence of cold formality, has brought it ever-growing prestige. Wide departure from old hotel standards has gained the favor of tourists and business travelers— men and women—and has caused the Great Northern to become known as Chicago’s most comfortable hotel. 400 Large, Bright, Livable Rooms $2.50 a day and up Exhibit rooms, $4, $5, $6, $8 For two persons in any room the addi- tional cost is only $1 a day. No extra charge, over main restaurant prices, for service of meals in guest rooms. Tour- ists’ cars delivered without charge. * DEARBORN STREET from JACKSON to QUINCY THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 90) novel spectacle with such bored lack of interest, it could not be worthy of a stam- e. That bit of acting was based on pure reason, on the dog’s experience with the crazy ways of sheep and on a long study of | their silly temperament. It could not well | have been mere instinct. Ollivant cites a like happening in his great Bob, Son of Battle. Here is still another bit of canine rea- soning, which I think I have mentioned elsewhere: Our great old collie, Lad, under- took to train his fiery little son, Wolf, into the narrow ways of good canine citizenship. One of the puppy’s most vexing tricks was to follow his sire at a distance whenever Lad buried a bone for future gnawing. As soon as Lad’s back was turned Wolf would dig up the bone and carry it off. After the third or fourth robbing Lad hit on a way of curing his son of the habit and of saving his own buried bones from theft. He dug a rather deep hole and de- posited the bone in it. Then, with his nose, he shoveled an inch or so of dirt over it. Dogs always dig holes with their forepaws and fill them in with their noses. It never occurs to them to use a backhand motion of the paw to shove the dirt into place again. Then, in the partly filled hole, Lad laid a whitened and ancient and wholly undesirable bone, afterward covering it with earth. Along came Wolf and began to dig. When he had delved down to the topmost bone he gave one contemptuous sniff at it and strolled away, having no suspicion that a really delectable bone was | interred just below it. Now that ruse of Lad’s seems to me to have been the result of a clear chain of reasoning, worthy of any human. It was | straight logic in its every step, without a | trace of blind instinct. True, dogs sometimes show a lamentable dearth of reasoning power, even the wisest of them. But so do the wisest humans. Sir Isaac Newton ordered a hole cut in the bottom of his stable door so that his favorite cat could pass in and out of the building. Then he ordered a smaller hole cut, just alongside the first opening, so the cat’s kitten might also be able to get into the barn. Nor could Newton be made to understand for a long time that the kitten could have gone in and out by the same hole as the cat. Few dogs exhibit less reasoning power than this. A Treacherous Toy It is reason and not instinct that leads | your dog to learn your teachings. I train | walks on the leash. my puppies to heel by taking them for I say “Heel!” and at the same time pull gently but steadily on the leash. After a few lessons the pup be- gins to understand that the command of “Heel!” implies also an irresistible and an- noying slow tug on the leash against which he is straining. To avoid the tug, he drops to heel. He has figured it out for himself and he has found a way to prevent me from hauling him back. It is the same with almost all lessons I teach him. He learns by a form of reasoning rather than by in- stinct. When our great silver, black and white collie, Gray Dawn, was a five-month puppy someone gave me an ornate dog whip. I did not use it, but left it in my study at Sunnybank. There Dawn found it. He annexed it gleefully as hisown. He carried it everywhere and he slept with it between his paws. The little fellow seemed so fond of his odd toy that I let him keep it. One day a fortnight later Dawn’s ir- repressible genius for mischief led him to rip all the fringe off a veranda hammock and to tear to shreds a pretty handkerchief which the mistress had left lying there. It was rank destruction. As I caught him in | the act, I punished him for it. Ordinarily I would have scolded him and sent him to the kennels in disgrace, for I find I can manage my dogs without beating them. But this was his second offense of EVENING POST the kind and it was necessary to give him more drastic treatment if he was not to be- come a household pest. I looked about for a loose-folded newspaper wherewith to slap him noisily, if hurtlessly, across the loins, as an accompaniment to my sizzling rebuke for his misdeed. Finding none and realizing that a dog’s punishment must be instant if it is to be effective, I picked up the sadly bedraggled whip that lay where Dawn had dropped it beside the hammock. I tapped his loins lightly with it two or three times while I explained sharply to him what a bad little dog he was. Even a light flick from a dog whip is stingingly uncomfortable. Dawn did not whimper or cower. But he stared at the whip in foolish astonishment. When I tossed it down again on the porch he con- tinued to glare at it. -It was his loved play- thing, his bedfellow, his delight. And it had turned upon him wantonly and stung him. In ludicrous wonder he glowered at the whip, then in growing indignation. After a minute or less he had thought out his plan of action. Vindictively he caught up the whip between his jaws—with none of the mincing playfulness wherewith he had always handled it—and trotted down the steps and across to the nearest flower border. Dogs Without Vanity There he dug a destructive hole amid the heliotrope plants. Into the hole he dropped the punitive whip that had betrayed him. Nosing back the loose earth, he stalked away. Never did he go back to the spot again to exhume the toy he had been so fond of. For all I know, it still is buried there. That savors of reason, I think, and decidedly not of instinct. It is not instinct for a dog to bury his enemy. Dawn pun- ished the whip that had punished him. Or he may only have been trying to make certain that I should not be able to use it on him again. In either event, it was a bit of logical reasoning. That handkerchief destroying was the gray dog’s last act of vandalism. He had had his lesson—a lesson that has profited him ever since. It is not altogether a senseless love of mischief which leads puppies to chew and tear every chewable and tearable object they can get hold of. A dog has forty-two teeth—ten more than we humans begin adult life with. Sometime—at varying times—between his fourth and seventh months he sheds his milk teeth and cuts his permanent set. It is a period of itching and of otherwise troublesome jaws; a time when surcease is sought by gnawing and ripping anything whese contact may per- haps ease the eternal discomfort of his mouth. In each puppy yard at Sunnybank is an old hiking shoe of mine—a shoe which needs frequent renewal. The just-weaned puppies play joyously with it. To the older pups it is an ideal teething ring. In- cidentally it teaches the youngsters the scent of my track. Thus, from babyhood, they are acquiring education with their play. There is none of the grown dogs, brought up in this way, that cannot trail my footsteps anywhere. That, I grant, is instinct and not reason. But reason has more than once been connected with it. Here is a case in point: My big auburn collie, Bobby—my con- stant comrade in car and boat and on tramps and in my study—was uneasy when- ever I was out of his sight. Once I left him indoors while I went to the windmill, about two hundred yards from the house. There I mounted a ladder to the top of the tank. The mistress had arranged to let Bobby out of the house as soon as she should see me climb to the tank top. Out he ran to find me. Instead of sniffing for my trail, he made a bee line for the outdoor hammock desk under the trees, where I do most of my work in fair weather. Failing to find me there, he galloped off to the kennels and thence to the boathouse, June 11,1927 and from there to a field where the men were mowing. In other words, he used his reasoning powers, as might a human; seeking me in the several places where experience told him I was most likely to be found; and first of all going to the desk where I spend much more of my time than at any one other outdoor spot. Failing to locate me by reason, he dropped back upon instinct. Nose to ground, he cast about until he struck my trail, following it at top speed to the foot of the windmill ladder. There, of course, the scent vanished. So Bobby cast about again, twice or three times, to make sure he had not been mistaken. Always his search brought him to the ladder foot. Presently he lay down there to wait. He did not know where I was. But he knew where last I had left ground, and he seemed to under- stand I must return to earth at the same place. Barring his instinct and his undoubtable reasoning prowess, a clever dog relies first on his sense of smell and next on his keen hearing. On his nearsighted eyes, un- backed by these stronger senses, he relies almost not at all. Lead a dog up toa mirror. He may show an instant’s curious interest in his own re- flection there, though, as a rule, he does not. Scarcely one dog in a thousand will give more than the most fleeting heed to his mirrored self. His eyes tell him another dog is facing him there. But his nose and his hearing tell him there is no other dog. Accordingly he believes his nose and ears, and scornfully he discredits what he sees. On the other hand, our two peacocks, Caruso and Melba, stood one day from noon to dusk, fatuously admiring them- selves in a triple shaving mirror I set out on the lawn for their amusement. I don’t suppose dogs really have a lan- guage of their own in our meaning of the word. But every dog student knows that they have some psychic way of communi- cating their thoughts and wishes to one another through the touching of noses. I have seen Lad go from dog to dog, touching noses with them in succession, as a well understood and instantly obeyed signal for them to follow him on some woodland ramble or rabbit chase. Two strange dogs, meeting in the street, seldom will fight or even growl at each other after once they have touched noses. I don’t pretend to understand the meaning of this, but I have noted it again and again. The Insuperable Wall There is another bit of canine psychology I cannot grasp, and which must have more or less to do with dog language: Up to the time he was fifteen years o'd, Lad was the undisputed king of our Sunnybank collies, ruling benevolently if firmly. Implicitly the others obeyed him. Always they fol- lowed, at his signal, wherever he might lead them. Then, at fifteen, the old dog became deaf; so deaf that he could hear only a loudly raised voice. He was abnormally sensitive as to his affliction, and he used to study our faces with pathetic wistfulness to try to catch our meaning. But from that time on the other dogs paid not the slightest heed to him, nor did he to them. He seemed to be shut off from them by some im- palpable but insuperable wall, or to have become invisible. True, they did not collide with him or interfere with him in any way. But they gave no other sign of knowing he was there. Not once did he and they touch noses. Very evidently Lad did not notice this sudden disaffection of his old-time under lings. He went his own way as though he were the only animal on the place. His deafness made no difference in his com- radeship with the mistress and myself. But it barred him forever from any association with the Sunnybank collies. Why? I don’t know. It is one of the several thousand things I shall never know about the dogs that I have spent a lifetime in studying.

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94 See history as ithappens Path New Nicaragua! You hear the name and there springs to mind a center of world events, of mys- tery and intrigue, adventure and battle. Then tonight you go to your favorite Pathé News theatre and actually see the happenings of the day in Nicaragua flash be- fore your eyes--vivid, complete, authentic! To give you such astounding news picture service Pathé has built up durisig sixteen years a vast,skilled organization,moving with split-second speed. Back of the Nicaraguan pictures you relish from your orchestra chairs are urgent messages b wire and air, a corps of hand- picked men of just the right qual- ities and technique speeded to the spot, days of patient waiting, hours of thrilling flying throug the night, priceless minutes when the day scenes are “shot”! Only the great and world-wide Pathé staff has the personnel, the imagination, the foresight, the scope, the equipment, the sheer ability to cover the world for you and have enough capable men on each job to film the story and get it back and on the screen at such unbelievable speed. Make Pathé News a habit at your favorite theatre PATHE EXCHANGE, INC. 35 West 45th Street, New York THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ALL FOR THE BEST bought it, would he continue it as a Beth- lehem journal, move it to Sugar Hollow, or attempt to make it a thing of county-wide scope? Don believed the sheriff meant to move the plant to his own town, where he could fight the Sugar Hollow Sentinel most effectively, in both the field of circulation and that of advertising. None of the three possibilities gave Don acute pleasure. Presently he started his ear and drove toward Bethlehem, where he arrived in half an hour, and stopped before the door of the Times office. Editor Malloy was in, but his weleome was not hearty. Certain matters rankled in his heart. “T’'m Oakes, of Sugar Hollow,” Don said. “Recognized you,” said Malloy. “ How’s business?”’ “Since you hogged the county printing,” said Malloy, with feeling, ‘it hain’t been so good.” ““*Stole a pig and away he run,’ Don. “Eh?” “*“Tom, Tom, know. Ancestor of mine. ” said the piper’s son’—you Runs in the | blood. How dreadful are the ways of he- redity!”’ ‘‘ Maybe that adds up to common sense,”’ said Mr. Malloy, “but not to me.” “You should cultivate,”’ said Don, ‘an agile and pleasing fancy. By the way, you are staying with the paper, of course?” “Stayin’! What d’ye mean—stayin’?” “When Sheriff Fox enters the field of belles-letires, 80 to speak.”’ “Who told you that?” “I just came from an interview with the gentleman. It was all unsought by him, but nevertheless an interview. A poor thing, but mine own.” “And he told you! He was so tarnal anxious to keep it dark!” “I'm a little light-bringer,’’ said Don. “ How doth the tiny candle throw its beam! But, Malloy, did you take spot cash, certi- fied check or promissory note?” “T hain’t taken anythin’ yet,” said Mal- loy, “but I cal'late to take cash on Fri- day.” “Unlucky day,” said Don seriously. “ Make it Saturday.” “Any day’s lucky that fetches me real money.” “But why the delay? Why not close the deal today?"’ “Oh, he’s ready any minute, but I got a few things to clean up,” said Malloy. “Ah!” said Don, and then his eyes fell upon a letterhead of the Bethlehem Print- | ing Company, Inc. They rested there for a | moment, focusing themselves with interest | upon those last three letters, which in- | formed him that Mr. Malloy was not an | individual enterprise but a corporation | under the laws of the state. He rather won- | dicated stockholders. dered at that. Why should so small an en- terprise incorporate? What advantage lay in it? As he scrutinized Mr. Malloy, he came to the conclusion that editorial per- son performed few acts without a definite purpose. Also, a corporation in- For the moment Don’s interest in Mr. Malloy personally abated; indeed, it be- came almost nonexistent. But his interest in Mr. Malloy’s activities and ambitions | increased. There burned within him a hot desire to ask questions of the proper per- sons; in short, he experienced a decided | itch in his nose for news. As all good newspaper men know, there is always somebody who can answer a ques- tion, and who will answer it, if only he can be found. The getting of a great news story is not a matter of inspiration, but of hard work and good judgment. First you must know there is a story to get. That may re- quire genius. But the actual obtaining of facts is done by persistence and labor. Al- ways somebody will talk, and the job is to | find that person. Curiously enough, there | is always somebody who knows any de- sired fact. And equally curiously, if you (Continued from Page 27) lay your hand on him and conduct your inquiry with some art and no little patience, he will lay all before you. Don scented a condition; now he champed at the bit to be in pursuit of someone who could make that condition plain to him. “T must now be up and doing,” he said, “‘with a heart for any fate; while you, Mr. Malloy, I assume will continue to sit here and to labor and to wait. I hope to see you again. Perhaps not many times, but once— surely once.” **G’-by,”’ said Malloy shortly. And then to himself: ‘‘Once more ain't necessary — not to me—not with that line of talk.” Don surveyed the town from the seat of his car, calculating where to commence. Who would be at leisure and who would be likely to know? His eyes rested upon the brick front of the bank. “Tf,”’ he said to himself, ‘“‘the president of that bank is busy, then human nature has gone and played me a mean trick. Bank presidents are foreordained. They’re ull alike. They tantalize themselves with office boys who bar out men coming in to tell them a funny story. I know a funny story.” He stopped his car before the bank and entered. ‘I’m quite sure,” he said engag- ingly to the young man in the teller’s win- dow, ‘that your president wants to see me. Will you tell him so?”’ The young man seemed rather bewil- dered, but asked, ‘‘What name shall I say?” “Oakes,” said Don. ‘From little acorns grown, you know. Tell him I want to talk about this and that, and to know a number of answers that aren’t in the back of the book.” The young man disappeared, scratching his head; but presently he returned and motioned toward a door. Apparently he feared to speak again lest he elicit other and further upsetting verbiage. Don walked to the door, knocked, and was requested to enter. The president was an elderly gen- tleman, smooth-shaven and of notable dig- nity. He fixed Don with a lender’s eye and asked discouragingly, ‘‘What can I do for you, young man?”’ Don smiled. When he turned on that smile it was difficult to be severe with him. It made him seem so very youthful and unsophisticated and charming, and in need of paternal guidance. “You can tell me,”’ said he, ‘“‘why is a corporation ?’’ “Why is what corporation?’’ asked Mr. Winters. “Mr. Malloy’s,” said Don. “I scruti- nized his establishment. Incorporation is not indicated as a prime necessity. Does he indulge in it as a luxury?”’ “And who,” asked Mr. Winters, “are you?”’ “The editor of the Sugar Hollow Sen- tinel—no less,’ said Don; ‘and, please, I would like to sit down.” “Do so,” said the stately Mr. Winters. “What is your interest in Mr. Malloy’s corporation?”’ “That,” said Don, “of an interested by- stander. I am not often frank and open. But J shall be so with you. You have a searching eye. I have not a subterfuge concealed about my person. Mr. Winters, the truth is I covet Mr. Malloy’s news- paper.” “*Ah!"’ said Mr. Winters, and considered. “T have heard of you,” he said presently. ““My friend Doctor Noble has spoken of you.” Don wagged his head sadly. “It would have to be the doctor,” he said. “I dis- appoint him. An impatient man— Doctor Noble. He wants somersaults over twelve elephants before the springboard is set up.”’ “He tells me you have sold out to the courthouse gang.” “The worst of it is,” said Don, ‘“‘he be- lieves it. His daughter also believes it. A harsh, unbending young woman!”’ June 11,1927 Mr. Winters smiled. Then he asked a direct question: “‘Is it true?’’ Don returned a categorical answer. “No,” he said; “but don’t tell the doc- tor.” “You imply,” said Mr. Winters, “that when your springboard is set up you will do some elephant leaping?”’ “*Would you believe me if I said yes?”’ “‘T would,” said Mr. Winters. “Thank you,” Don said, and smiled again. ‘“‘But Archimedes never found the place to rest his lever.” “*So he didn’t lift the earth, eh?” “Do you know,” said Don, “I think I’ve a flair for bank presidents. I always get along with them. Now about Mr. Malloy.” “For publication?” ‘Only in case,” said Don. ‘Just give me a grip on the critter’s tuil and I’ll work my way up to his horns. You will not be quoted. I understand Sheriff Fox has owned Mr. Malloy.” “Body and britches,”’ said Mr. Winters. “He is going to own more of him than that. Malloy is selling the Times to the sheriff.”’ “Which,” said Mr. Winters, ‘‘does not suit your book.”’ “Not even as a footnote.’ “What do you propose to do about it?”’ Don countered with a question: ‘‘ Would the decent folks of this town support a de- cently run newspaper? Would you, for instance, prefer some other management than Malloy’s?”’ “You may make that assumption.” “Which,” said Don, “brings us bang up against the incorporation.” “T cannot speak from exact knowledge,” said Mr. Winters. “‘A good surmiser is the noblest work of God,”’ said Don. “TI once heard of a newspaper which made a practice of selling its stock—to peo- ple who desired that certain news should not be printed,”’ said the cautious Mr. Win- ters. “I’ve heard of such things. Let us be hypothetical: Mr. A edits a newspaper. He discovers a certain discreditable fact about Mr. B. He presents himself to Mr. B, to whom he says, ‘ My newspaper is a rotten investment. It never pays dividends. But an editor must live. How much of my stock will you buy if I forget to print the following story?’”’ “You catch the drift,”’ said Mr. Winters. “Naturally, the man who makes such purchase is unlikely to utter loud and pub- lie complaints.” “True.” “‘One’s sympathies,”’ said Don, “‘are so seldom with a blackmailer. Such a person could be spared from our midst. In fact, our midst might even sigh with relief at his departure.” “Mr. Malloy,” said Mr. Winters, “is incorporated for ten thousand dollars one thousand shares of the par value of ten dollars each.” “You do not, by any odd chance, know the owner of any of these shares?”’ “I don’t,” said Mr. Winters with great positiveness; ‘‘but William Jenkins runs a first-class drug store.”’ “Is it so? And have you any other mer- chants who might be classed as progressive citizens?” “Well, there’s Timothy Walker and Horace Barr—good men.” Don arose. ‘‘Wouldn’t it be queer,” he said, “if a prominent man like Malloy were to go away suddenly, preferably after sun- down, and never return?”’ “‘It would amaze me,” said Mr. Winters. He paused. “But are you thinking of leav- ing Sugar Hollow?” ‘No, indeed. I love to be close to Sheriff Fox, and especially to his first assassin, Mr. Big-Foot Mosher. My aim is quite other than that. The thought is to publish one (Continued on Page 96 ,

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 95 There’s a World of Style Motor car fashion now inclines strongly toward the low swung, French-type profile. Here it is, at its best, in the smart Advanced Six Special Sedan by Nash. Wherever charming people park their cars, look for — J this new Nash type. Its expressive beauty will com- pel your eye, no matter what other cars are there. It is built for people who are hard to please. Like costly furniture, it 1s upholstered in exquisite Mohair Velvet. Door panels, window mouldings and instru- ment board are done in rich walnut finish to harmo- nize tastefully with the real walnut steering wheel, Portraying the Advance in this Charming Nash Drive this Nash, and you will like it even more. It has, for power, the Nash 6-cylinder, 7-bearing motor with a power-flow of fascinating smoothness and quietness at any speed. And it has the Nash type of steering mechanism easier, faster, never tiring. Just a s/ight turn of the Nash steering wheel when you turn a corner. And Nash 4-wheel brakes! A safer type. Their ac tion 1s /wo-way more efficient and interna! ing, front—external contracting, rear. The style, efficiency and very moderate price of the Advanced Six Specia/ Sedan have quickly made 1t preferred investment in the field of family cars. Six O peciai Sedan

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There is nothing else like it. Write us today for your 7 FREE Your skin Or to save yourself time cool shaves. will thank you. ms th —ask your nearest “3% druggist for 120 of these cool INGRAM shaves. The jar only costs fifty cents. Ingram’ Shaving Cream COOLS and SOOTHES as you shave Frederick F. Ingram Co. — Est. 1885 ....555 Tenth St., Detroit, Mich. — also Windsor, Canada EVENING POST (Continued from Page 94) paper which shall cover the county—a daily, in time. What is the circulation of the Times?” “ About twelve hundred.” “IT thank you, sir. A very pleasant after- noon is being had by all. And now for Mr. Jenkins, the eminent purveyor of pills.” Don left his car and strolled down the street to the drug store, where he found Mr. Jenkins engaged in the benevolent oc- cupation of selling a chocolate soda to a small boy. When the transaction was com- pleted to the satisfaction of both buyer and seller, Don accosted the druggist. “Mr. Jenkins,” he said, ‘“‘I would a word with your private ear. You have a private ear, of course?” “Two of ’em,” said Mr. Jenkins, both flappin’.”’ “Suppose we step behind the prescrip- tion screen.” “T don’t sell it,’ said Mr. Jenkins— “anyhow, not to strangers.” “And I,” said Don, ‘‘don’t buy it—even from friends, and I feel you and I are going to be friends. Are you one of Mr. Malloy’s fervent well-wishers?” “Come behind,” said Mr. Jenkins. ‘““You put me in mind of somebody I used to like.”’ They retired to that privacy where the chemist was in the habit of compounding elixirs upon prescription, and Mr. Jenkins proffered a cigar. ‘‘Smoke,” he said. “I dunno whether you got anything to do but cuss Malloy, but seems as though that’s allus a welcome pastime.” “Would you be saddened,” Don asked, “if Malloy were to fold up his tent like an Arab?” “‘T druther see him fold up his body with the stummick ache,” said Mr. Jenkins venomously. “That,” said Don. “‘will be one of his symptoms. . You don’t chance to own any stock in his publishing company?” “It wan’t by chance,” said Mr. Jenkins; “T just happened to.” “Do you consider it a good investment?”’ “T got a better one. Once I dropped a dollar in the river. The dollar’s there yit. It’s suthin to fall back on, like.” “I’m not inquiring into the circum- stances surrounding and abutting upon your purchase of that,stock. But I’m al- ways willing to listen to a man with a vo- cabulary.” “We hain’t got that fur yit,”’ said Mr. Jenkins. ‘‘And you hain’t told me who you be.” “Oakes, of the Sugar Hollow Sentinel.” “Um-m— heard tell of ye.” “Would you consider parting with your stock for what a polite man given to hy- perbole might call a consideration?” “If you got the hyperbole,” said Mr. Jenkins, “‘I kin give ye suthin that'll cure ye up in a week. Tablespoonful before meals.”’ ““What I need is a dose of stock.” “‘Tt’s yourn.” “‘Let’s be upright and honorable gentle- men,” said Don. ‘I can’t tell you what I can pay for that stock. I can’t tell if I can descend like a wolf on the fold and get away with a lambkin. But if I do, and get away with it, you get a fair, just, reason- able but not altruistic price for it.” “Done,” said Mr. Jenkins. “Mr. Malloy will be around—probably tomorrow. Sing him a sweet song and lull him to sleep. But my name doesn’t come in the chorus.” “T kin shut my mouth the tightest of anybody in the state,’’ said Mr. Jenkins. * Just indorse the stock,”’ Don said, ‘‘and I go away and do this and that and engage in certain activities and permutations.” “‘Come in ag’in,”’ said Mr. Jenkins. ‘I sure admire to hear you talk. When Mal- loy drops in to git this stock—which I cal’late is the idee—I’ll tell him to drop around later, when I got time to git it out of the bank.” “None but a mighty mind,” said Don, “thought up that stratagem. Good afternoon.” ‘ “And many of ’em,”’ said Mr. Jenkins. “ and June 11,1927 Don did not drive back to Sugar Hol- low, but spent the remainder of the day in Bethlehem; he even slept the night in the hotel. Among other calls, he visited Presi- dent Winters of the bank a second time, but at his home, where certain parleys of a financial nature ensued. Their purpose was precautionary. After this Don went to his bed and slept with the profundity of tired youth. In midmorning he revisited the office of the Times and closeted himself with Mr. Malloy. A portion of their conversation is of interest. “Mr. Malloy,’”’ Don asked, “when you travel, do you prefer to do so at your own expense?”’ ““What’s the idee?” “T thought you might. Many do. For instance, I am certain I could persuade this commonwealth to pay your fare for a brief railway journey. But, as I read the statute in such case made and provided, I doubt if they would pay your fare back again be- fore the lapse of about seven years.” “Be you loony?” “‘A train,” said Don, “leaves these parts in one hour and thirteen minutes. I am sure you will wish to be a passenger. But meantime I have a favor to ask of you.” “‘Say, young feller, you're talkin’ out of turn.” “No; it just came my turn. Before you go I want you to telephone my friend Sheriff Fox and invite him to drop over to close the deal with you.” “T kin run my own business,’’ said Mr. Malloy. “True,” said Don; ‘“‘but what—there’s the burning question—what is your busi- ness? Let us discuss the length and breadth of that. Let us survey the situation in all its devious angles.” Whereupon, for some fifteen minutes, the situation was surveyed. At the end of that time Mr. Malloy ceased to be bellicose and became mild. Indeed, there were signs of apprehension, not to say acute alarm, and he performed certain acts of a clerical nature with astonishing readiness. “Now,” said Don, “‘you will telephone the sheriff, being careful to instill into your voice a casual tone of bonhomie, as it were. Set the hour as three o’clock.”’ Even in this Mr. Malloy granted his co- operation. “Now you have just time to pack,” said Don; “but not time to stop at the bank. By all means do not stop at the bank.” “What? I got to stop at the bank. I got money there.” “No,” said Don, ‘‘the Bethlehem Print- ing Company, Inc., has money there. Which is quite something else again. . . . And a committve will attend you to see that you play according to the rules. I made the rules. Mr. Jenkins is self-appointed chairman of that committee. It will even accompany you on the first leg of your jour- ney lest you be lonesome and are tempted to telephone, telegraph or otherwise com- municate. The committee awaits without, My Lord!” Mr. Malloy said nothing. “It is a little hobby of mine,’’ said Don, “to eliminate warm personal friends of the sheriff, especially if their characters are not flawless. In time,” he said pensively, “I believe the sheriff will be lonely.” In company with Druggist Jenkins and others, happy to serve in that capacity, Mr. Malloy was ushered to the train and ac- companied upon his way toward the south and west. His present whereabouts are not known, neither are they inquired after. At three o’clock Don Oakes, with Presi- dent Winters for company, awaited the ar- rival of Sheriff Fox, who was no less than promptness itself. With him came Prose- cutor Ellsworth to give a watchful eye to the legal formalities of the occasion. These, as it turned out, were few. Don met them at the door with extended hand. ‘Chairman of the reception com- mittee,’ he said. “‘The appointment came so late I had to omit the badge. Step in, gentlemen.” (Continued on Page 99)

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(Continued from Page 96) “‘Where’s Malloy?” asked the sheriff belligerently. “Ah, there’s the rub—where is Mr. Mal- loy? Not in the vicinage, I venture. But somewhere he is warm and well fed and happy.” “T got an appointment with him,” said the sheriff. “To be sure,’ Don nodded. the deal for this paper, wasn’t it? I’m acting for Mr. Malloy.” “You’re what?” “He begged it of me as a favor,” said Don. “You've no idea the confidence he places in me. Of course, you both know President Winters.”’ “Surely,” said Ellsworth suavely. ‘But, Oakes, we are taken a bit by surprise. The sheriff holds a legal option on this news- paper.”’ “Given by Mr. Malloy?” “Who else?” “Unfortunate,” said Don. “You picked the wrong person. What you have is as good an option as Mr. Malloy could give, no doubt, but in that capacity he has been deficient for some time.” “T fail to understand you.” “Can one,” Don asked, “give an option upon what is not his property?”’ “Certainly not. But Malloy —— “*__ lacked exactly that prime requi- site. You see, Mr. Malloy had a habit, and nobody ever put a thing in his coffee to cure it. He had the stock-selling habit to excess,” “What do you mean?” “To close Well, might when Rosalie was looking, things were fairly bleak for the McCoys. He was a reliable and honest engineer and he had lost three jobs within two years through business failures with which he had nothing to do. “Hard luck,”’ he reflected. ‘I can pull through, but it’s going to be tough for Rosalie.” Arriving at his beloved golf course, he found nothing in sight to cheer him, for his familiars were not to be seen and the locker room was deserted. In vain he prowled about, hunting for regulars. ““Where’s everybody?” he demanded of Bert, the locker-room attendant, and Bert replied that he guessed they wasn’t comifig out today. Gloomily, silently, Dave proceeded to his private locker, where he found several brand-new balls to gladden him, and Tommy Jones, the bright-eyed caddie master, hailed him with a Merry Christmas. “Nobody hardly out today,’”” Tommy volunteered. ‘‘ Must be all buying presents, so it’s a punk day for golf. Maybe you could go round with Mr. Bellman.” ““Who’s he?” Dave asked suspiciously. ‘A stranger here, but he’s been playing a week or two. He has a visitor’s card.” “No,” said Dave firmly; ‘‘no strangers. I'll go round alone first.” His dejection mounted as the hour hand crept past one o’clock and none of his cro- nies appeared. He was in for a solitary and abysmal afternoon, for of all the sodden things in the world, the saddest of these is a male golfer cruising about the course by himself, scorned by his caddie and conced- ing himself twelve-foot putts. “‘I’d better play with somebody,’’ David said to himself, weakening. ‘‘No fun going it alone.” He sauntered out to the caddie house and Tommy Jones grinned at him. On the long bench at the first tee sat a mature, solid- looking man, taping his thumb with inter- est and paying attention to no one. “There’s Mr. Bellman,’”’ Tommy said, furthering the cause of sport. “All right,” said Dave sulkily. He had experience of playing with elderly gentlemen and strangers, and he feared them as a pestilence. They invariably THE SATURDAY “This concern, as you will have in- formed yourself, is a corporation, capital stock ten thousand dollars. Of this he sold a block to Druggist Jenkins, a nicely en- graved certificate to Horace Barr, another to Timothy Walker, and others to selected unfortunates who came under his notice.” “What?” “During the past ten years,” said Don. “These gentlemen did not buy of their own free will and accord, but they bought, and Malloy delivered. Mr. Malloy was a news getter, but not a news printer. When a story came into his possession which re- flected upon some sterling citizen or his family, Mr. Malloy did not blazon it to the four corners of the earth. No, indeed. He made him out a stock certificate and called upon the erring freeholder. ‘I'll take cash for this,’ he would say, ‘and no disagree- able facts shall appear in the Times.’”’ “Blackmail!"’ exclaimed Mr. Ells- worth. “Of,” said Don, “a peculiarly repre- hensible nature. If one blackmail can be darker than another.” “But he kept control. cent of the stock.” “‘He should have,” admitted Don. “ But somehow the idea appealed to him and he just couldn’t stop. Upon investigation I discovered he had sold, not 49 per cent of his stock, but something more than 125. A droll proceeding. A social error which he recognized when, this morning, I presented the certificates, duly indorsed to myself, for transfer on the books of the company.” “You what?” roared the sheriff. He kept 51 per EVENING POST “I've wrought a miracle,"’ said Don. “‘] now own 25 per cent more of the Bethlehem Times than there ever was. A unique con- dition. If there is an apple, a man may own all of it, but he can’t own all of it and a quarter unless he possesses unusual talents.” Sheriff Fox scowled at Ellsworth; Ells- worth sat with elevated brows and studied Don Oakes. “ For your size,”’ he said, “and age, you certainly pack a punch.” Don nodded graciously. “It was an ad- vantageous bargain for me,"’ he said. “In- deed, I am acquiring a going concern at a rate which it would be exaggeration to call nominal. I’m more than grateful to the sheriff for causing me to investigate this matter. As nearly as I can judge, I own this establishment, lock, stock and barrel, and it didn’t cost me a red, auburn, cerise or otherwise cent. Mr. Malloy had an ac- count in the bank.” “Eh?” “In the name,” said Don, “of the cor- poration. It was an oversight. The ac- count amounted to some seven thousand dollars. The late stockholders, who never expected to realize anything on their in- vestment, have agreed to accept this amount in full for their stock, which makes every- thing fair for everybody. I get a paper, the boys get some money, Mr. Malloy gets escorted out of the county—and you, Sher- iff Fox, have the satisfaction which comes from knowing you have made a fellow man happy. In case of doubt, I am the fellow man, and I am as happy as a king.”’ The sheriff leaped to his feet and made for the door. Ellsworth exhibited less OUT, IN AND ON (Continued from Page 2!) evinced peculiarities of a disturbing sort and generally played the pastime without grace or skill. They fussed with their cad- dies, they talked, they asked fool questions, ruined a man’s game and soured his dis- position. “All right,” Dave repeated, more sadly than ever. “Mr. Bellman,” said Tommy in his po- litest caddie-master manner, “meet Mr. McCoy.” Mr. Bellman waggled his newly taped thumb in the sun, rose up jovially and shook hands. He had gray eyebrows, but the eyes under them were keen and blue. “Glad to know you, Mr. McCoy. Didn’t think I'd find anyone to play with today. Course is sort of deserted.” “The boys are all buying Christmas things,” replied Dave. “Glad to know you.” “T hail from New York,” declared the stranger, naming a famous club in West- chester County. ‘Just visiting here, but I like it. You have a splendid course, Mr. McCoy.” “Best greens in the state,’’ said Dave, wondering if the visitor could play the game at all, or was he just another of these Eastern dubs that drift to California now and then. “Yes,”” continued Mr. Bellman, who seemed mildly inclined to discourse. “I've been out here a month and I have played all your courses——-every one of them—and I like this one best. I'm a fanatic about the game, and I’|] be sorry to leave this garden spot.” “‘Going away soon?’’ Dave asked. “T am leaving today. We are driving East, and this is my final whack at the game in your glorious Southland.” He waved toward the driveway, where lay at anchor a large closed car, baggage showing on the rear seat and the usual liveried chauffeur slumped behind the wheel, reading whatever it is chauffeurs read. It was a nice-looking outfit, Dave reflected, with the faint scorn of the young man who rolls his own for the one who has to be rolled. “Well,” said Dave, as they strolled slowly toward the first tee, “‘I suppose we might as well be pushing off.”’ “Immediately,” agreed the visitor. “If I can get started East by five o'clock, I can make Barstow by midnight. Want to stop in Barstow if possible.” On the short journey to the tee, David speculated about the stranger’s game and made inquiry. “Oh, I’m a sort of duffer at it,”’ admitted Bellman with alaugh. “I shoot somewhere around 90. My handicap is fourteen.” “*So’s mine,”’ said Dave. The conversation paused en instant, for they were now at the point of an important detail. “This old sparrow,”’ murmured David, “will probably want to play for fun.” As everybody over the age of four knows, there is no real entertainment in a golf, bridge, poker or coffee-drinking contest un- less the participants are battling for a stake, however small. The cash hazard adds zest to the enterprise—any contest from rolling peanuts with a toothpick up to polishing off a world’s championship. And though Dave McCoy always had a small wager, no one could truthfully call him a golf gam- bler, for he despised gambling. He fought it out with his own gang year after year at his Dark Canyon Country Club—a crowd made up of doctors, dentists, professors, lumber merchants, wholesale grocers and lawyers—and some of these were heavy betters. Dave unfailingly of- fered them the same wager. It never changed. It never grew larger and it never dwindled. It was always a two, two and two bet, which is described on the east coast of America as a Nassau wager, and known west of the Mississippi as risking your money out, in and on Translated, this means that young Mr. McCoy invariably wagered two dollars he would win the first nine holes from his op- ponent, two dollars he would capture the second nine holes and two more dollars that he would triumph over the total of eighteen. This familiar three-way bet is known wherever the golf flags flutter above the verdant greens and gentlemen gather to whang away at the little rubber ball with its coat of white. The two-dollar limitation was Dave's own affair, dictated by modest circumstances and a sensible desire to avoid gambling. , oY feeling and more graciousness. ‘I wish your price weren't so high, Oakes,"’ he said. ‘‘ We could use you in our business.” “Tf,” said Don—and his eyes rested for a moment upon those of the young prose- cutor—“if I were in your place, Mr. Flis- worth, I'd hunt me another business. The one you're in is hazardous." “1,” said Elisworth, “am beginning to think it may be.” As he passed through the door Don called to him. “Tell the sheriff this was al! for the best,”’ he said. “He wouldn't have liked this paper if he'd got it. There are things about him which remind me of al- most anything but a newspaperman."’ “Perhaps you're right,’ conceded Flls- worth. “Elisworth”’—Don’s voice was earnest for the first time—‘‘have you a neat but efficient cyclone cellar?” “Never felt the need of one,”’ the prose- cutor said over his shoulder. “Read the barometer, sir, read the ba- rometer. All signs point to a blow.”’ “Thanks,” Elisworth said; “but I guess business will go on as usual.”’ With which he disappeared to search for his irate com- panion, whose society gave him a mini- mum of pleasure on the return drive to Sugar Hollow. “Ellsworth,” said the sheriff, breaking the silence some miles out, “I'm a-goin’ to git that young spriggins if it’s the last do in the catalogue." “Sheriff,”’ said Elisworth, “get you a pair of thick gloves before you lift a red-hot stove.” ’ Some of his fellow members played for ten, ten and ten, or twenty, twenty and twenty, but not David. His wife knew that he would never risk more than six dol- lars in a golf match and so did every playing member of the Dark Canyon Country Club, and they admired him for his re- straint. “IT suppose,” remarked Mr. Bellman, pinching a bit of sand from the box, “that we ought to have a little bet, seeing we're both fourteen men.” “Sure!’’ agreed Dave, happy to find the stranger possessed of a dash of sporting blood. “What would you like, Mr. McCoy?” Bellman inquired; and then, without giv- ing Dave time to reply: “ Hew about two, two and two?” Dave chuckled. “That's funny.”’ “What's funny?” “Why, that’s my regular bet,’’ laughed Dave. “Never bet anything else. Strange you should happen to hit it.” Mr. Bellman smiled affably, put the sand upon the ground, forming it into a tee, placed the ball upon the bit of sand, stood up, waggled his driver carefully above the ball an instant, gazed down the long wide fairway with the calculating eye of the golfer and socked the ball a lusty smack. It sailed high and clean, splitting the fair- way, and landed probably two hundred yards away. ““Mighty good,” exclaimed Dave admir- ingly. “‘ You hit that one, Mr. Beliman.”’ He stepped to the tee himself, placed his own ball upon a wooden gadget and dupli- cated the shot. The two balls lay upon the fairway not fifty feet apart, and the strug gle began, with David MeCoy now assured in his mind that he was in for a brisk, enter- taining afternoon with a gladiator who knew how to play the ancient and honorable game. It developed immediately into a neck- and-neck affair. Dave's caddie was a Mex ican lad named Salome and Mr. Bellman’s needs were attended to by a boy Ukie, and before the match had gone three holes, Ukie and Salome were betting each other nickels and dimes on the outcome When the caddies wager, it is always a con- called test. Continued on Page 102

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Murphy AUTOMOBILE Enamel MURPHY VARNISH COMPANY NEWARK CHICAG AN FRANCISCO-MONTREAL THE SATURDAY (Centinued from Page 99) Stroke by stroke, they advanced, and neither could gain advantage. At the end of the seventh hole they were precisely even. They halved the eighth hole in fours. They both landed drives on the ninth green, a three-par affair, Mr. Bellman’s ball at the right edge and Dave on the other side. The younger man rolled up toward the pin and stopped six feet from the magic cup. The visitor tapped his ball and it paused perhaps seven feet from the hole, and consequently Bellman putted first on the final try. His ball tickled the metal edge of the cup, but it did not go in. He was down in four strokes, one over par, and Dave stepped up to his ball, with a single putt to win the first half and two putts to tie the affable stranger. It was an old and familiar situation for young David, and he was a fair, confident putter; no miracle man on the green, but a dependable player, with an eye for distance and direction. He poised himself above the ball in this moment of crisis, studied the line carefully but briefly, and gave his ball a firm, deliberate tap. It rolled for the cup. It moved as straight and true as if in a groove. It plunked into the metal can with a satisfying plop, and David straightened up with a pleased grin. “That wins the first half, Mr. Bellman,” he said cheerily. “A mighty fine putt,” cried his oppo- nent. “An exceedingly clever putt. It never hesitated. It went for that hole as if it had eyes. I congratulate you.” “Certainly is a tight battle up to here,”’ murmured Dave, wiping off his ball and eager to tackle the second nine. ‘‘We seem to be evenly matched.” “Couldn't be any evener,”’ Bellman ad- mitted, and the twain moved to the tenth tee, while Salome and Ukie adjusted their important financial affairs in the back- ground and made fresh nickel wagers of a truly desperate character. The second half of the match was another thrilling contest, a duplicate of the first half. The golfers struggled from tee to green, separated by a stroke, now one hole up, now even, one hole down and so on to the very end, and on the eighteenth tee they were again tied. David sent a straight hit down the fair- way and Bellman followed with another. Dave laid his second upon the rolling bosom of the green and Bellman did likewise with a stout brassy shot. Dave tapped a putt up to the hole and stopped short. Bellman putted and was ten feet over. “Well, that is odd,’’ Dave remarked. *“‘ Just like we were on the ninth.” “Exactly, and again it is my first putt,” said Bellman. ‘I am going to sink this one for a four and win the half.” “Shoot!"’ said Dave. “Tightest durned match I was ever in.”’ The Easterner’s ball rolled for the cup. It trembled upon the brink and seemed about to fall in, but a cruel blade of grass held it. The stranger was down in five strokes. “Too bad,”’ said Dave, which is the standard comment of an opponent when | one has made a failure. ‘Nice try.” “T have no luck at all,”’ said the disap- | pointed Bellman. “Now it’s up to you.” David again poised himself solidly above his ball, weight upon his left leg, muscles re- laxed, putter swinging gently to and fro above the ball. Again he studied the putt briefly, calmly, and agair the firm blade smote the little ball a gentle whack and it ran along the smooth grass like a coyote seeking its lair. It wiggled into the cup, bouncing softly as it hit bottom. “Wins the golf game,”’ exclaimed Dave happily, and Mr. Bellman shook hands with him then and there. “I don’t mind losing a match like this,” he said. ‘‘Great game.” The gladiators strolled past the caddie house and toward the locker room, and at the steps of the veranda Mr. Bellman paused and said: ‘‘ That was beyond doubt the most interesting match I have ever played. There was a genuine contest. Do EVENING POST you realize that we were never more than a single hole apart the whole game, and most of the time a single stroke?” “True,” agreed Dave, mightily pleased with himself. ‘‘Durned good match, I call it.” “T shall give you a check,” said Bellman casually, and for the first time young Mr. McCoy felt a slight chill and looked sharply at his antagonist. A check! Why the so-and-so, said Dave to himself, would a gentleman be giving another gentleman a check for six dollars? Was the stranger a four-fiusher, that he would be roaring about the country in a limousine and not have the lowly sum of six dollars upon his person? Anyhow, David reflected, golfers do not usually give golfers checks. It is done, occasionally, even in nice clubs, but it is a custom frowned upon. “That's all right,”” he murmured, con- cealing his thoughts, and glad to be six dollars ahead on the day, even if it came in check form. “Another thing,” added Mr. Bellman, looking carefully at David, ‘‘I would like to know, if you will pardon my curiosity, just what business you happen to be engaged in, Mr. McCoy.” “Me?” replied Dave, smiling. ‘‘ Well, sir, at the present time I am enjoying a vacation.” “You are not by any chance connected with the oil McCoys?” “No,” said Dave. “T thought you might be.” ae No.” “And you are not associated with any business concern?” “Not at this time.” “Might I inquire if you are familiar with money matters?” “‘T have done nothing but handle money for the last three years,’’ replied Dave, which was the cold truth. ‘*Well,” said the stranger, ‘‘I have been studying you today, Mr. McCoy. It is a hobby with me. I like to observe people when they are not expecting it. You area young man with plenty of vitality, firm nerves and a very steady command of your- self in emergencies. The golf showed that. As our little contest moved along I came to the conclusion that I would like to have a man of your type associated with me.” Dave looked politely interested. Was it that the gentleman wished him to take a ride back East in the green limousine, which was even now betraying signs of life on the driveway? “My business in California,’ continued the friendly golfer, ‘‘was to add a West Coast office to our organization, and this I have done. ‘We now have offices in New York, Chicago, St. Louis, Denver and Los Angeles.” “What is your business?’’ Dave asked. “Stocks and bonds,” replied Mr. Bell- man. ‘ The firm name, as you may or may not know, is Bellman & Knapp.” If he expected this information to over- whelm David, it failed, for young Mr. McCoy merely looked cheerful and an- swered half a dozen questions. “Do you think you would like to —— “*T certainly would,” said Dave, coming suddenly to life and realizing that here stood a man offering him a job on the very day before Christmas, when the finding of a new job was an impossibility. ‘‘I surely would, Mr. Bellman.” “Very well,” said the bond man, “‘we will consider it a deal. Call in on Monday and have a talk with Mr. Briggs, who is our new West Coast manager. Here is the ad- dress on Spring Street, and as to the finan- cial arrangements, I think there will be no trouble there. I shall send Briggs a tele- gram paving the way for you.” “Thank you very much,” said Dave, taking the card. ‘‘This is, indeed, a lucky day for me.” “For me too,” said Bellman. “I like your looks, and I made my decision, strange as it may seem, while I watched you putt on the ninth and eighteenth greens. Any man who can remain steady and sure of ” June 11,1927 himself, and not fuss or falter when the winning of the stake depends upon the calmness of his putt, is the sort I like to have in my office. See Mr. Briggs Mon- day.” “‘Without fail,’”’ replied Dave, and as Bellman moved into the locker room, the young man concluded that the pleasant conversation was at an end. He followed, tingling with elation. His thoughts flew to his home and the sad breakfast scene. Now what a grand bit of news for Rosalie when he got home for dinner—and Rosalie so sniffy sometimes about his playing golf and wasting time. Look what it did for a man! Got him a job, so it did. Pushing aside his desire to give three huzzahs of victory, David dispanted and disshirted himself and repaired to the showers, singing a jolly roundelay beneath the falling waters. And in the meantime the affable Easterner packed his bag hur- riedly and borrowed a fountain pen from Bert, the locker man. “Pay to David McCoy,” he wrote, while Bert looked on admiringly, ‘‘the sum of six hundred dollars.” Bert manifested signs of profound amaze- ment. “T’ll have to hurry along,” said Bellman. “Please give this to Mr. McCoy.” “He win all that money from you?” Bert asked genially. ~ eee,” “That’s funny,” said Bert. “Why is it funny?” “‘ Because he never bets six hundred dol- lars, or sixty dollars. Six dollars is his limit and always was—two, two and two.” “That’s interesting,’”’ said Mr. Bellman. “He always bets six dollars?” “Yes, sir,”’ said Bert. “‘He’s gettin’ to be a plunger.” The Eastern-bound gentleman said no more, but picked up his bag and walked out to his large automobile. He seemed fairly contented for a golfer who has just lost a match. “Now we'll see,”” he murmured. Fifteen minutes later David came forth from his noisy ablutions and glanced casu- ally about the lockers. Mr. Bellman was gone, vanished from the surface of the earth. The hero of a thrilling golf battle hurried through the locker room, hastened out upon the veranda and gazed at a thor- oughly deserted driveway. No green limou- sine greeted his roving and anxious eye. Tommy, the caddie commander, appeared. “ Where—where is Mr. Bellman?” Dave inquired. “‘Guess he must be gone,” answered Thomas. “*T should say he is gone!”’ snorted Dave. **Did he leave ou six bucks to give me?”’ “No, sir,” said Tommy respectfully. “Did he say anything?” “Not a word.” “Well, the so-and-so doubled and re- doubled this-and-that!’’ remarked David, whilst Tommy’s surprise mounted. ‘Him and his job! See my Mr. Briggs Monday, says he, and he goes dashing off without paying me my six bucks which I won from him fair and square. Seems very strange, doesn’t it, Tommy, that a visiting person would go away without paying his golf debts?”’ “Didn’t he pay you?” “No, he didn’t pay me. Certainly he didn’t pay me.” “David cast a murderous glance about at the universe. Six dollars is not a great deal of money, but when it is one hundred per cent of what a gentleman has, it becomes important. “IT might have known,”’ Dave continued in stomach tones, ‘‘ when he began blatting about giving me a check. I might have guessed. And if he did give me a check, it would probably bounce back and hit me in the eye.” Overcome with honest rage and hatred of all things human and especially stout men who run out on a toiling golfer, Dave re- turned to his private cubicle and finished dressing. He muttered quiet maledictions (Continued on Page 104)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 103 WORLD'S LARGEST GROWERS AND CANNERS OF HAWAIIAN PINEAPPLE INEAPPLE every- where—as far as the eye can reach. Long, even rows— clean, weedless fields —plants remarkably uniform in size and shape. It takes care in 2% breeding and cultiva- ind iemangne C8 kn tion to produce fine , pineapples. And onall these thousands of acres—nothing but fine pineapples. Con- centration. Concentration is good for Pineapples WENTY-FIVE years ago the Hawaunan Pine apple Company began to grow and can Hawauan Pineapples—and nothing else. Concentration Today—it is still growing and canning Hawaiiar Pineapples—and nothing else. Concentration. Right now we are spending $5,000,000 to develop another 20,000 acres to grow Hawaiian Pineapple yelse. S oncentration a nothing else till Concentration. . a SLICED Such concentration could have but one resul t- Finer pineapple—placed upon your table as Na ture ripened it—mellowed by tropical sunshine tender — brimming with juice—Hawauan Pineapple at its glorious best Evidently America likes that kind of pineapple, for its approval has carried this Company from a modest (72HE romantic story of Hawaiian Pineapple and pack of 45,000 cans in 1903 to 63,000,0 cans it the young New Englander who made it possible for . . _ a you to serve it, is told in this delightful booklet. Further- 1926—in short, 1 in every 3 cans Ol Hawauan Pine more, it contains 30 new, tempting recipes prepared by the one f ween *s e amnion gullaads dupes of Msal's apple served in America’s homes See Magazine, Pictorial Review and Good : Housekeeping. We shall be happy to send you a copy. Just drop a post card to Hawaiian Pineapple Company, Dept You can thank “Jim” Dole for canned Hawaiian Pineapple S-6, 215 Market Street, San Francisco HAWAIIAN PINEAPPLE COMPANY . iwi © H. P. Co, 1927 Sales Office: 215 Market Street, San Francisco Concentration is good for Pineapples. L

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EVENING POST Continued from Page 102) upon the tribe of Bellmans, beginning with the first Bellman back in the Paleozoic age, coming down to the present generation of contemptible Bellmans and going far into the future. He needed the six dollars. Rosalie needed it. And what if he had lost—ah, that was a jolly thought, for he would have handed the other man his last six dollars in the world like a true gentleman and an honest golfer. He wished fervently that he had taken no shower. He should have remained in plain sight, he told himself bitterly, planted himself directly in the path of the traveling visitor and said in a loud, firm voice: “It’s all right about jobs, Mr. Bellman, and I certainly will go and see your Mr. Briggs, but before you leave California, Mr. Bell- man, I will thank you to hand over that six bucks.” Now that his golfing day was spoiled, the troubles of his home swept down upon him again. He thought of Rosalie and her anx- ious face, and of the real-estate man and the furniture man and the automobile man. Bert, the locker-room genius, came strid- ing along the alley between the sea-green lockers, humming something indistinct and formless. Bert was a tall, gangling, pale-faced man who had no other name that any- one knew. He was a dyspeptic type and seldom smiled, but he watched carefully over his golfers. “Here y’are, Mr. McCoy,” he said in his sad way. Dave regarded him as he ap- proached. ‘I guess Mr. Bellman musta thought you'd left.” “Huh!” said Dave. “He said he was in a hurry to be getting started East,’’ Bert continued, looking at the ceiling, ‘‘so he left this check with me and said for me to give it to you.” “‘Huh!”’ Dave repeated. Bert handed him the check, a pinkish- looking slip, and instantly David saw that he was a guilty, suspicious wretch who thought bad things about strangers. After all, Mr. Bellman was an honest golfer, a gentleman and a quick payer of small debts. “Thanks, Bert.” Bert strolled moodily away through the deserted room and David unfolded the pinkish thing. “Strike me stone-dead!"’ said Dave, in a low voice, as the written figures rose and smote him in the eye. ‘‘Strike me stone- dead and bury me in several places!” He stood perfectly still beside his locker, looking at the check in his hand as though he expected it to move or begin singing Annie Laurie. “‘T can’t keep this money,” he muttered. “Still and all ——”’ “Certainly you can’t keep it,” replied the voice of his better self. ‘‘Wouldn’t be honest. You were playing for six dollars and well you know it.” “Yes,” argued David, thinking of Rosa- lie and the furniture and the house, ‘‘ but he thought we were playing for six hundred. It’s all right with him.” “Sure, but how is it with you?” asked the insistent voice. ‘‘ What if you had lost?”’ “‘Another thing,’’ Dave argued weakly, “he’s gone away.” “You can get him on the telephone at Barstow.” “And if I do, and tell him I was playing for only six measly dollars, then bang goes my new job with Mr. Briggs. The only reason he gave me this job was because I was steady on a two-hundred-dollar putt, and so ——”’ “Call him up tonight,’’ commanded the voice. “ Don’t quibble, and don’t kid your- self.” “You win,” said Dave. He walked out to his car, climbed in and drove home in a dream. The check lay folded in his vest pocket—six hundred mighty dollars against the onrushing deso- lation of Monday the twenty-sixth. He drove into his own garage before seven and a moment later entered the little white house ” June 11,1927 where his devoted wife was coming down the home stretch with the Christmas di :- ner. Rosalie was basting the chickea, nice roast chicken, and apparently it not injure a roasting chicken to ba with tears as well as gravy. Dave si watched his young wife weep. ““Now, what’s the matter?” he and Rosalie turned and wiped | with her apron. “It’s such a lovely kitchen,” s! dismally, ‘‘and I do hate to lose it.’ “We may not lose anything,”’ Da» **Gol-ding it, our luck may have tu He began a wild Navajo war danet the kitchen, which was too small ‘ He caught his young wife in his arm forced her into the gambado, to her int: indignation. He whooped a few ti reached into his vest and drew fortl magic document. “This is what golf does for a man!’ cried. ‘‘Don’t you ever let me hear complain about my golf all the rest your life! I won today! I certainly win some money this bright afternoon!”’ “Lovely!”’ said Rosalie, thinking | meant the usual six dollars and wonderir thereat. “Look at it!’”” Dave commanded. “Let your eyes feast upon yon slip of paper!” Rosalie wiped flour from her fingers, took the check gingerly and studied it. She transferred her startled gaze to De” countenance. “David McCoy,”’ sh sternly, ‘“‘do you mean to say you six hundred ——”’ “One moment!” shouted Dave. is a long story and I am starving. we eat the Christmas dinner, I will 1 many facts. First, I have a job, be Monday.” “No!” “Yes,”’ said he. “‘I hope to fall Rosalie looked about helplessly and to weep. ‘‘That’s right,” said her “‘Go ahead and have a good time.’ “T am so happy!” she said, sn “You shouldn’t have gambled.” “T didn’t,” said he, drawing upa_ “This is the way it happened.” With Rosalie’s eyes growing ro n and rounder and her appetite totall- f - gotten, young Mr. McCoy narrat*! ¢ .e stirring events of the afternoon. <s ie approached the end, the joy faded fro n_ is partner’s blue eyes. “Well, David,” she said, “‘you don’t think you can keep that money?” “T can keep it if I want to,” said he, “but I’m not going to.” Rosalie contemplated and the events thereof. going to do?”’ “I’m going to give Mr. Bellman time to reach Barstow and call him up. Anyhow, we had money for a while.” It was midnight before Bellman reached Barstow, and five minutes afterward he was talking over the telephone with his recent golfing partner. “This you?”’ Dave asked. “Yes,” said Bellman. ‘‘ What is it?”’ “There was a mistake today,” David said. “‘I won only six dollars from you, so I've got to send you back five hundred and ninety-four. You see ——-” He explained at length. Mr. Bellman smiled far out upon the desert. ‘‘That could happen to anyone,”’ he replied. “‘ Just a little mistake.” ““Where’ll I send the money?’ Dave asked, with Rosalie standing in sorrow by his side. “Don’t send it anywhere,’ replied the other. ‘‘ You just hold onto that until I get back to California and we'll fix it up with Mr. Briggs. Regard it as advance salary.”’ “What?” said Dave. “See Briggs Monday,” said the distant voice, trailing off into a hum. “All right,”’ said David, and he hung up. ““Did—did you lose the job?” Rosalie asked timidly. “‘No,” said Dave, “and I didn’t lose the money either. That man Bellman is all (Continued on Page 107) Black Monday “What are you

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WHERE How does the Californian get so much fun out of Life? How can he spend so much time away from work—yet make his work bring him so many more dollars? ALIFORNIANS do get more fun out of life. About two-thirds of us, who lived in other states before we moved out here, will tell you so from our own knowledge. And you can come to San Francisco this summer, enjoy a wonderful California vacation, and see for yourself! By rail, it’s almost a business day closer to Chicago with the new shortened train schedules; by auto, the new Victory High- way in conjunction with the Lincoln Highway leads directly through the beau- tiful mountain passes into San Francisco. Californians, with one car for every three people, own proportionately more automo- biles than the people of any other state, and we use them more—for camping, fishing, week-ending trips to the mountains or up and down the seashore. There are no rainy days in summer to tie us down; in winter months our hills are green, our sunshine glorious; there is less rain than in the East in mid-summer. It’s fun even to be able to avoid the bit- ter winters that we used to know. San Francisco’s climate lets us play golf on green fairways from one year’s end to the next—and we do. There are 20 golf courses (two municipal) m and near San Fran- cisco now, and we’re building more. All year long the days in San Francisco are full of snap and sparkle—only a little warmer (average 59°) in summer and only a little cooler (average 51°) in winter. San Francisco’s factories and big industrial plants that serve the markets of the Pacific Coast, Hawaii, Australasia and the Orient can prove that this favorable climate adds a substantial percentage to production. And it has helped to make this state the third largest in agricultural production. Here is a letter, typical of what you will hear from thousands of other Californians THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LIFE when you come— exactly what you will say, yourself, after you have lived here: “ San Francisco, Calif., March 3, 1927. “ Most men who like to fish and shoot, and play golf, and camp in the mountains, are situated as I am—their years are divided into fifty weeks’ work and two weeks’ play. “But I live in California now. Other men, thousands of them, come clear across the continent every summer to do what I can doevery week-end. q sailor f the seven sta reinrn to his home port—San Francisee

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106 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11, 1927 Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard. Said she, “There isn’t a crumb— But it’s not so bad, for which I am glad— I still have my Double Mint gum!” —MOTHER GOOSE UP-TO-DATE. ebpermint Flavor When you feel like having a Peppermint treat—lasting, full of flavor—satisfying; Get a package of Wrigley’s Double Mint— See how GOOD good pepper- mint can be! See how good it is for You. “" 4sThe Flavor Lasts++:

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(Continued from Page 104) right, and when they come around Monday for their pound of flesh, they’re going to find a whole meat market waiting.” “* Do—do you suppose the check is good?” Rosalie asked, as women will. “No,” said herhusband. ‘‘Nodoubt this is a convict check, because, as you well know, big business men are forever going around giving people bum checks. So we will be thrown into the street Monday, as you always said.” THE SATURDAY Rosalie smiled happily. ‘I'd better keep it,” she said. “Something might happen to it.” Bright and early Monday morning, Mr. McCoy clambered into his shiny chariot with the serious manner of a business man starting a new week. He pulled out of his garage and turned toward the city, to call formally upon a man named Briggs. Rosalie watched him drive away, marveling that any girl should be lucky enough to have such a strong, reliable fellow for a husband. EVENING POST She waved a parting salute and Mrs. Mul- queen emerged upon her front porch next door. “My, my!” said Mrs. Mulqueen. “ Your husband is starting early to play his golf, isn’t he now?” “No,” returned Rosalie, tilting her chin slightly. ‘‘He is on his way to business, Mrs. Mulqueen, to take charge of the firm of Bellman & Knapp, which no doubt you know is the very largest financial house in the world.” SHORT TURNS AND ENCORES the exquisite loveliness of those well- turned, chiffon-clad ankles! “‘Gentlemen of the Jury, I ask you to return a verdict of not guilty.” — Marie George. The Silent Woman HAT—more dictation, this late? Have a heart! I declare, I get sick of the sound of my name. Well, here I am, now hurry up! Don’t you ever think a per- son needs to go shopping after hours? . . . Another letter to Smith & Kolinsky—a lot of good it’ll do, the way they felt about the last order. I hope that orchid hat in the Bettsye Shoppe isn’t sold yet; if Ed does take me out tonight, I’d like—gee, how is “‘miscellaneous”’ spelled? I have to look up the darn thing every time. . . . If I’ve written that gag about constructive en- deavor once, I’ve done it a hundred times. I'll bet you heard that at some convention and thought it sounded smart. Here comes the sales manager—what a poisonous tie! Now you'll sit and spill wise cracks, and I shan’t get out till the stores are closed. It sure is a sweet hat, but I wonder if orchid is really my color. Listen to them pull that old one about in- stalling a time clock; doesn’t mean a thing, but I’d better warn the girls. Gee, there’s a run starting in my brand-new stocking, and where did I put that needie and silk? He’s gone, thank good- ness! . . . Oh, for Pete’s sake, why does a man always have to stop and light a cigar before he dictates? How do you sup- pose I can hear you when you're talking to the ceiling and a truck going by? . . . lieve the present depression—is ‘‘relieve Can you beat it Re- ei or ie? of course, : ee ee ee se ee 7 BO & OS CSS EOESES EES BEES SS SO BEE OES EC FB @ 6 BESO E EOE TOSF DRAWN BY DONALO MC KEE (Continued from Page 32 the phone has to ring! If that’s wifey, it means time out for all the bad news about the plumber—no, I guess it’s a golf date. . . . Or maybe I'd look better in the blue one; it costs more, but I'll try it on anyhow. I wonder if my old pongee would make a good slip, or whether it would catch at the knees. . . . Oh, take your time, and light up again! Maybe I could understand you better and not make mistakes if you'd take the cigar out of your mouth. Your wife would probably have a fit if she knew how much you smoked. Keeps me busy washing the smells out of my hair—hot cakes at home in the morning, cigar smoke here! Meyer & Wood, Cincinnati— that’s another mean word to spell. But then the blue one is a dollar more. . . . Wonder if I'll ever get a raise; I'd be scared to death to ask. Yours very truly, and I hope that’s all—hell, no! .. . Dear Gus—one of those long-winded spiels to the dear old pal. My oil stock—yeah, I thought you had an ax to grind. Here’s that sickening Scotchman from the art de- partment —another holdup. . Wonder if he really is soft on Mary Ross. I could tell him that she only put those flowers on her desk instead of in the washroom be- cause she has a kind disposition. He ought to have heard her telling the girls how he asked her advice about shaving off his mus- tache. Yes, Mac, I get that parting smile, but please close the door. Think you're some sheik, don’t you? Now come on—come on, get Gus’ letter off your chest and sign off! Oh, don’t rub your hair any more; you've worn it thin already. Yours fraternally goody, goody, you'll have to go to your conference now, and talk about the proper weight for a golf ball, or something. I don’t - rir Lee 7_ — =. = care what, just so I get my letters done Where is that dictionary —“ miscellane- ous.” I think I'll get the blue one after all, even if it does cost more. Corinne Rockwell Swain. The Critic Does Her Stuff AVING just marked a group of lessons in letter writing, Miss Jones, the school-teacher, unthinkingly criticizes an ardent note from her fiancé. Dearest: T have been thinking of you all day. The twittering of the birds the soft swaying of leafy boughs yes, even the rumble of a bustling city all seem to be strumming sweet tunes about you. I am mad to see you. Fondly H. W Criticisms: Ragged margin. Careless punctuation. Cheap, silly sentiment. Sign full name. Since you are one out of fifty- seven, I have no time to puzzle over initials. Remain seated, think of a sensible subject and rewrite. Mary Dorman Phelps Psychologists Say a Kiss Shortens Life Three Minutes (With Apologies to More Darn Poets OME and kiss me, sweet-and-twenty. Whoa! Now stop it, love. That's plenty. Life's a stuff that’s not insured, Take—oh, take those lips away! That last kiss cut off a day; Dying young can’t be endured. Jenny may have kissed me when Last we met, but not again; I will flee at cost of strife. Don't expect me, pretty sweeting, Journeys end in lovers meeting. Movie censor, save my life. Fairfax Downey. The Patient With a Jumping Toothache Naturally Was Admitted for Treatment Out of His Regular Turn 107 The Iver Johnson Juniorcycle a real sidewalk bicycle built to last OW you won't have to buy a sidewalk bicycle of unknown make—that may break and injure your child. Get him an Iver Johnson Junior- cycle. This beautiful vehicle is one your boy or girl may well be proud of Handsome as a Rolls-Royce, rugged as a tractor. Safe because built to withstand hard use. Vital parts are drop-forged for double strength. Equipment includes New Departur: Endee coaster brake, full one inch non skid cushion rubber tires, strong stec! stand, and mudguards front and rear. Colors: Red, Blue or Gold, with “Duco” white head. Full nickel fork and steering column. Write for Free Color Catalog *'B."’ Safe and sturdy OCIPEDI IVER JOHNSON VEIL Smaller boys and girls have the time of their young lives on this standard quality Velocipede. Gagod-looking as the Juniorcycle, and just as safe be cause made in the same painstaking way. Same type tires. Colors: Red, Blue or Gold, with ‘‘Duco” white head Write for Free Color Catalog ‘‘B IVER JOHNSON BICYCLE The daddy of the Iver Johnson cycle line. Made with high-carbon seam less steel tubing and genuine drop forgings for rugged strength. Abso lutely safe to ride. Famous every where for its speed, comfort, and good looks. Models for everyone. Colors Iver Johnson Blue, Maroon, Green or Black. Write for Free Color Cata- log ‘‘B.”’ Dealers: Throughout America the demand for Iver Johnson Junior- cycles and V elocipedes is increasing. Some new territories are still without adequate dealer representation. Write at once to Fitchburg concern- ing this golden selling opportunity. IVER JOHNSON’S ARMS & CYCLE WORKS 7 RIVER STREET, FITCHBURG, MASS New York, 151 Chambers Street Chicago, 108 W. Lake Street San Francisco, 717 Market Street IVER JOHNSON

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108 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11, 1927 The GUARDIAN! Fiit is fatal to Flies and Mosquitoes NJOY this Summer! Rid your home of disease-bear- ing flies and mosquitoes! Away with roaches, bed- bugs, moths, ants! Happiness, comfort, health, cleanli- ness. Refreshing days, restful nights—these are the things that make a Home at this time of the year. Millions of people everywhere now spray Flit, the won- derful new liquid. It takes but a few moments to clear your home of flies, mosquitoes, roaches, bedbugs and ants. Flit searches out the cracks and crevices where insects hide and breed, destroying insects and their eggs. It also kills moths and their larvae—the tiny worms that eat the holes in your best garments. It will not stain. Flit is fatal to insects, but harmless to mankind. It is the result of exhaustive laboratory research. Flit replaces the old, time-wasting methods—swatters, poisons and the like. "The Yellow Can Join the Health Squad. Get a can of Flit and a Flit with the sprayer today. For sale throughout the world. Black Band” © 1927 Standard O%1 Co. (N. J.)

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THE TEXAS TWINS a-holding each other up, they put in the best part of half an hour helping each other onto their horses. Assoon as Tony was fairly in the saddle, he’d climb off again to help Joe mount; and when Joe seen Tony was in difficulties again he’d slide off and go to his pardner’s assistance. It was on again, off again, Finnigan, with them two until finally we'd got enough fun out of watchin’ ’em and helped ’em to climb simultaneous. But most generally they was moderate and tem- perate to excess. One of the boys—Bud Lewis—argued that the Texas Twins was bound to split up sometime. “It ain’t human,” says Bud. “Sometime Joe’ll spill gravy on Tony’s best pants or Tony’ll use Joe’s razor to cut up an old boot leg to braid a quirt and hell will be a-popping. It may not be much that starts ’em, but it’ll be aplenty. This here fondness is beyond sense or reason.” I told him he was talking through his hat and that they had saved each other’s lives and stuck together through fair and stormy weather, as the feller says, for five years, and that if Joe spilled gravy on anything Tony valued, Tony would be the first to apologize. If Tony wanted to use Joe’s razor on a boot leg, Joe would shave him- self with a jackknife and let on that he pre- ferred it. “You just think so,” says Bud. “And what’s five years? I’ve known married couples that’s hung together like turtle doves for longer’n that and fought like Kilkenny cats ever after, or until one or the other skipped out. Maybe it’ll be a girl that does the business for ’em.”’ “And maybe it’ll be the Shah of Persia or the King of the Cannibal Islands,’’ I says. But the day was to come when I'd have to own up that Bud was right. It come about thisaway: Adoniram J. Eccles, who was the biggest stockholder in the company and the high muck-a-muck, didn’t like the last annual report any too well, and come down from Omaha with his wife and daughter to see just how and where the foreman of the W G was a-steal- ing the outfit blind. He’d figured out just how many calves per cow there ought to have been, and the percentage that ought to have been male animals, and what ship- ments ought to have been made, and exactly what the cost per carload ought to have been to get ’em to market, and the price they ought to have brought on the hoof, making reasonable allowances for wages and supplies and repairs and losses, and them estimates of his didn’t jibe with Rod Harper’s report anywheres near. Well, there wasn’t no arrests made. Adoniram got a considerable underfoot and his women nearly as much so, although they was right nice ladies, and the young lady partic’ler so. No, she didn’t have noth- ing to do with the split-up between Tony and Joe. She came and she went along of Adoniram and that was the last of her. It wasn’t the last of her pa though. Adoni- ram didn’t say nothing, outside of asking a heap of fool questions, which was answered according to their folly, as the Good Book gives instructions; but soon after the last fall shipment was made there comes a letter to Rod from His Nibs, giving instructions. They was real interesting. Seemed like the wages of all and sundry was too high, from the foreman’s down to the cook’s, and the living was too high, and several things was thus that had ought to have been and was to be so, and they was to be so, including the plain, nourishing, wholesome and inex- pensive meenew recommended, from the re- ceipt of this letter. Rod didn’t write back. He got on a horse and rode to Opal, where there was a wire, and he made that wire sizzle all the way to Omaha, explaining that if them instruc- tions held, there wouldn’t be nobody to apply ’em to, account of all hands and the cook hereby tendering of their resignations, and they could send down one of their ex- pert cowmen from the office to take charge,

THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 9 and did the company wish him to remain until then or should he lock up the ranch and leave the key under the door mat? The answer was: “‘Wait. Leaving to- morrow night.”” And four days later War- ren Sim made his debut in these ranges, with credentials for him to take charge and check up. Warren laughed himself sick when Rod showed him Adoniram’s letter of instructions. He hadn’t got none himself. Adoniram had run onto him at the stock- yards and offered him nearly twicet what he had been paying Rod to do the best he could. “‘ And there won’t be no cut on wages or grub, and any or all of the boys can stay on if they want to,”’ says Warren. That was fair enough, but there was a few of us soreheads that quit with Rod. I was one of ’em and Joe and Tony and Bud Lewis was the others. We all went into town, but Rod didn’t linger long. He took some mixed twos and threes down to Hastings to peddle to feed- ers and Joe and Tony went along with him. George Turner offered us all a good job for the next season and we agreed that we'd work for him. In the meantime I accepted a position as superintendent of Steve En- low’s pool parlor while Steve tended to the cigars and tobacco and mis’laneous end of the business; and Bud Lewis, he took charge of the faro layout in Frank Frush’s, so we was all fixed and nobody the worse but the W G, their expenses that winter being 20 per cent higher than the winter before and the winterkill running to 55. That’s what economy does when it runs wild. Joe and Tony didn’t get back to hole up for the winter as soon as they expected. The fellow who had bought the heft of Rod’s steers needed help and hired ’em to stay and work for him, and they’d probably have kept with him until spring if Joe hadn’t had some sort of trouble with the boss that resulted in Tony getting mad and quitting. Anyway, they come back inside of three months with that much wages ahead and got them a room with two beds in Fred Willer’s hotel and fixed it up with the livery to hay-board their horses. They was looking well and feeling good, and fig- ured on a spell of care-free loafing in the lap of luxury, with nothing to do but enjoy themselves and nothing to spend but money; and just for a beginning, how about a little tonic to redden up the blood cor- pussels and stimulate the hair growth and our appetites for dinner? Being as it was a special occasion, I left Steve to tend to what business there was and we went over to Frank Frush’s and got Bud Lewis to join the reunion, which lasted until way apast noon. Tony and Joe was bound and set that we was to go with them to Willer’s to eat, anyway, although we was boarding regular with Ma Turgoos just then. The first thing they wanted us to see the lace shams they’d got sn their pillows and see if they was lyiag when they said they both had feather beds and clean sheets. They was so set that we went up- stairs and looked at the room first, and it was sure doggy for a couple of cow- punchers. Then we come down to the din- ing room and found it empty and every- body through. We set down, but nobody came, so finally Tony commenced to ham- mer on the table with the handle of his knife. “I’m a patient man,” he says. “Job didn’t have nothing on me, less’n maybe it was a few boils; but that ain’t a-going to prevent me from going in and wrecking the kitchen and slaughtering them flunkies hip and thigh, if some grub ain’t brought in here pronto.” Before I could stop him, Joe got his knife handle into action. “I’m right with you, compadre,”’ says he. “‘Anybody that figures on starving us to death is a-going to get large chunks bit out of them and et raw. Hi-yi in there! Yee-ow!” 109 EVENING POST

The kitchen door flew open and Mariana Moseley exploded into the dining room. Five foot ten and a half inches in her stock- ing feet, with her hair down, of good, hard, solid, shapely gal; not that she was in that dishybil then or that I ever seen her thata- way, but guessing at the heels of her shoes and the thickness of the pile of hair on top of her head, she was just about that height, and her build according. She wouldn’t have tipped the scale at less than a hundred and sixty. She was naturally some high-colored, but right then her cheeks was a trifle redder than a full-blown peony and her black eyes was just a-snapping, and if Joe and Tony didn’t crawl under the table it was prob’bly because they was paralyzed. They sure looked ’s if such was their very dearest wishes. “‘What’s all this racket?” she says, stop- ping at the table with her arms akimbo and glaring at Tony and Joe. ‘‘If you men can’t behave yourselves, you'd better get right out of here. Which of you was it a-pounding and a-hollering in that disgraceful way?” “It was me, ma’am,” says Tony, his voice a-shaking. “I didn’t have no idee ——”’ “You didn’t have no idee of manners, I reckon,”’ says Mariana. ‘‘ You didn’t have no idee but what you was in a Injun tepee.”’ “Excuse me, ma’am,” says Joe. “It was me that was misconducting myself, and my friend, he’s just taking the blame off my shoulders like he always does. I don’t want you should get the wrong no- tion about my friend. He’s been well raised and acts like a gentleman every time. Me, I ain’t got no excuse, only I didn’t know there was a lady in the kitchen, and I hum- bly ask your pardon.” Tony started to say something, but I chipped in and asked as a favor could we have a bite of dinner or was we too late. “‘T reckon I can scare you up a bite, but you'll have to take what you can get if you come in this time o’ day,’’ says Mariana. She spoke tol’able sharp, but she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling when she looked at Joe and Tony. She was a good girl, Mariana was, and never stayed mad long. Then Bud Lewis spoke up. “I'll make you acquainted with my friends, Mr. Tony Beck and Mr. Joe Simpson, Miss Moseley,” he says, waving his hand at ’em. “They're the both of "em from the headwaters of Bitter Creek, where their diet was barbed wire and blue vitriol. If you handle ’em, you want to be careful to catch 'em by the back of the neck so’s they can’t bite, but they won’t hurt you if you’re kind to 'em; and as I said, they’re friends of mine.” “That’s a great recommend,” says Mariana, and the look she gave him was a heap worse than what Tony and Joe had got. It was sure blighting, or had ought to have been, but Bud just smiled, kind of sneering, and she turned away. “I'll see what I can get,” she says to me. She sailed back to the kitchen and Tony and Joe breathed hard and looked at each other mighty solemn. “Gosh!” says Tony in a whisper, and Joe nodded and told him | that he was dead right. Then, still a-whis- | pering, Joe turned around on Bud. “Say, | feller,’”’ he hisses, ‘if it wasn’t that I don’t | want to make no more disturbance, I’d break you acrost my knee for that raw crack you made. I can take a joke as well as the next man, but sometimes you get too funny to please me right well, and that there was one of the times. I look for you to put that right.” “You bet,” says Tony, frowning. “‘We look for you to put that right.’’ Then he turned on me. ‘‘Why didn’t you tell us there was a young lady in the kitchen?” he demands. ‘Letting me go on unsuspecting and making breaks!” “That’s what I want to know,” says Joe. “‘What for didn’t you tell us?”’ (Continued on Page I!!!) MARKS prints > C peer finger spots and blemish re isily washed: off walls-painted Velumina Flat Wall Paint r gives walls soft tones that add light and: spaci- No dirt ousness to rooms pores t ab < eh SOFT Washing takes the place if redecorating: | PITTSBURGH PLATE GLASS ©

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110 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11, 1927 Smother your cigarette butts and smother FI R E Careless smokers are Fire’s best allies. Wherever they go Fire follows. Last year thirty million dollars worth of property was burned up because of carelessness with matches, cigars and cigarettes. Smother your cigarette butts, and you smother Fire. Form this habit yourself, and help others form it. Call the attention of careless smokers to the dangers they leave smouldering behind them. Be careful—always. And, more than that, be insured, because no matter how careful you are, Fire does sometimes break loose. Telephone, or go to see the Hartford agent in your neigh- borhood. He sells good insurance that affords complete pro- tection from financial losses due to Fire. This Hartford man is well worth knowing, for he will guide you in matters of your insurance. INSURE IN THE HARTFORD FIRE INSUR ANCE CO. HARTFORD, CONN. The Hartford Fire Insurance Company and the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company write practically every form of insurance except life

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(Continued from Page 109) We started out loud to excuse ourselves, but them two lunkheads hushed us and we hushed. They was both sober in all respects by this time, and wasn’t joking, so nothing more was said until Bud whispered that it was elegant weather and it looked like the grass had ought to be good in the spring with all the snow there was. Next thing Bud said he wondered if he hadn’t better pull down the window shades, but Tony and Joe didn’t notice that. They was both a-looking at each other the same way they had when Mariana went out of the room. “T’ll tell a man!” says Joe. “You're a-shoutin’, boy!’’ says Tony— not meaning that Joe was raising his voice, which he wasn’t by no means, but that he agreed with whatever it was Joe meant to tell. They understood each other, them two, and I sort of had an inkling of what them looks meant myself. When Mariana come back with the grub they couldn’t keep their eyes offn her ex- cept when she looked at ’em, and then they looked at whatever else was handiest and blushed like the rosy dawn. You cuuld see it tickled Mariana, and I had hard work to keep my face straight. Just before Mariana left us, Bud got up out of his chair and asked her to please wait a moment. She looked at him mighty contemptuous, but she waited. “T won’t detain you for long,” he says; “but a little while ago, in a jesting spirit of foolishness, I made some remarks which I want to retrack account of their not being words of truth, but with malice of fore- thought and intent. It was regarding of Mr. Beck and Mr. Simpson, your new boarders, and I rise to say without fear of successful contradiction that I lied when I said they was from Bitter Creek, also re- specting of their diet. S’ far’s I know, it was Texas they come from and they didn’t have to come from there if they hadn’t wanted to. I want to say that they are both high-toned gentlemen that it’s a priv- ilege to know, and I thank you for your kind attention.” Mariana didn’t answer him. She just gave him another of them withering looks and then she pulled her freight for the kitchen. We all got our toothpicks and moved out as far as the door, where Joe and Tony balked on us. ‘“*Ain’t you coming along to finish what you begun?” Bud asks. Joe and Tony shook their heads. “Maybe we’ll be along after while,” says Joe. “‘ After while maybe we'll be along,”’ says Tony. ‘“‘We would now only we've got a little business to attend to.” “If we hadn’t got business to tend to, we would right now,” says Joe. “So long, boys.” “So long,”’ says Tony. “No hard feelings about that little joke of mine?” Bud asks. “No,” says Tony; back, so it’s all right.” “Sure it’s all right,” says Joe. fixed it up.” We walked down the street. ‘Was you on?” says Bud, nudging me in the ribs and chuckling. ‘‘Them two coots is mashed on Mariana, by golly! Yes, sir! Didn’t you see it? Didn’t you see how they looked at her and how they looked at each other? And now they’re a-going to hang around her all the balance of the time until the bust-up. They’ve got it bad—the worst way. Couldn’t you tell it? I seen it the very first thing.” ““That’s because you got a good eye each side of your nose,” I told him. ‘‘ Me, I’m blind one eye and can’t see out of the other, so, of course, I didn’t notice nothing. But there ain’t a-going to be no bust-up— not betwixt Joe and Tony,” I told him. “I hear you say so,” says Bud, “but how do you figure any other way? They won’t neither of them get her. I know that, because I’m real well acquainted with the man that is; but I reckon they'll try, and I never yet seen the fond lover that had fond feelings for anybody else that was “you took it all “You THE SATURDAY a-chasing his girl. Them two pinheads cer- tainly need to work double to make the most of the thimbleful of brains they've got between them; but they’ll split like I always told you they would, and all I ask is to be among them present behind a bullet-proof shelter when the shootin’ be- gins. It’s a two-to-one bet it will be a double killing so’s they can rest side by side under one tombstone.” Bud spoke sort of savage, which give me an idee. ‘‘ About this here acquaintance of yours that’s a-going to make Mariana a happy wife,” says I. ‘‘He don’t happen to be a fellow by the name of Bud Lewis, does he?” “T reckon you're right about your eye- sight,” says Bud. ‘“‘Would I be eating at Ma Turgoos’ if that cute little guess was right? But I don’t know but I will try Fred’s for a spell, just to watch the twins hating each other. I'd like to know what they’re a-saying right now.” We'd got to Steve’s by that time and I turned in and left him. I didn’t know then what Joe and Tony was a-saying, but I was told afterwards and I reckon I got it straight. After Bud and me left ’em, they went upstairs to their room, and the first thing they shook hands and then sat down without saying nothing. Joe took a pack of papers out of his pocket and Tony hauled out a sack of tobacco and they rolled 'em a couple of cigarettes and lit up and smoked. Finally Tony threw the butt of his ciga- rette out of the window. “Joe, she’s a wonder!” he says. Joe sent his fag end after Tony’s. “Tony,” says he, “‘never knowed you to be wrong yet, but you never was so dog-gone right in your life as you are when you say that. She’s a wonder!” He thumbed a paper and rolled another coffin nail and tossed the sack to Tony, who done likewise. “TI didn’t know that there was any woman like her,’’ he says. “‘I’ve seen a right smart of ’em in my time before I knew you. Straw blondes, strawberry blondes, butter- nut, black and blue-black; kinky, curly and straight haired. You wouldn't believe the number I’ve seen. Some of ’em have been tall and some short and some medium; some of 'em good and some bad and some I dunno; there’s been smart ones and some with no more sense than the law allows, and some pretty as a spotted dog under a red wagon, and some that made a mud fence look real ornamental when they stood alongside it; but I never seen yet before this day one that was just right in each and every way, shape and manner.” “Nor me,” says Tony. “The way she come in when you and me had been acting up like we done!"’ Joe goes on. “Just the way she come in! Action! Sperrit! Sand! A lady as knowed she was a lady and was a-going to be respected or know the reason why. I took notice the way she looked when Bud chipped in—like he was the scum of the earth—which he was, and which anybody is alongside of her.” “That’s whatever,” says Tony. “You certainly got it down fine, Joe.” “And talking about eyes,” says Joe, “did you ever see a pair of eyes like she’s got? And that pretty color in her cheeks, Tony. Roses ain’t in it! And her figure! The finest figure of a woman I ever laid eyes on. Something to it. None of these here skinny, scrawny, slinky weeds that you'd think was going off into a decline and no more shape than a bodkin. No, sir! Where you'd naturally look for curves, there’s curves—the elegantest kind—and where there oughtn’t to be none, like the flat of her back, there ain’t. I wouldn’t take the liberty of mentioning them things to nobody but you, Tony. Maybe I hadn’t ought to anyway, but it ain’t in no disre- spectful sperrit, you know that. It’s just the truth, ain’t it?” “Gospel truth,” says Tony; “the way it struck me, every word. Roses ain’t in it! What’s that po’try about roses is red? Roses is red and sumpin else is blue?” “Vi'lets,”’ says Joe. “Vi'lets ain’t blue; they’re vi'let,” says Tony. “Ain’t it the sky?” EVENING POST “Sometimes the sky ain’t blue,” says Joe; “‘but what I don’t like is the idee of a lady like that toting grub on a tray to a passel of yahoos in a hotel. A lady like that had ought to have a home of her own, with everything fixed up in elegant shape and a good husband to make himself useful and see that she didn’t lack nothing. Ain’t that right, Tony?” “Just what I was thinking,” says Tony. “Her name’s Miss Moseley.” Joe made three gulps, one after another, and then he says, “ Beck would be better, Tony.” Tony made the same swallowing motion. “Simpson, you mean,” he says, and then they looked each other straight in the eye for a spell. “Simpson is what it’s a-going to be,” says Tony, firm and set. “Now, see here, Joe, I know dog-goned well that you’re dead stuck on that lady, and such being so and she being what she is and worthy of you, you're a-going to sail right in and win her hand and her heart and that’s all there is to it.”’ “Tony,” says Joe, ‘you're stuck on her as bad as anybody could be and you know it, so there ain’t going to be no two ways about it. The idea of a runt like me trying to win her hand and heart is plumb ridicu- lous; you and her would be somewhere near a match. Fine figure of a woman like her wouldn’t consider nobody but a fine up- standing man like you. What’s more, we'd always be the best kind of friends and the best of friends must part, as the saying is.” ““What Miss Moseley needs for a hus- band ain’t a big, tow-headed lummox like me,” says Tony. ‘‘ What she needs and is a-going to get is a good-looking, brainy, up-and-a-coming young fellow with a tongue in his head. It ain't size that counts with a woman; it’s quality. And besides, if there was progeny, it’s reasonable to sup- pose that they’d be about the right average. I don’t know a heap about young ones, Joe, but seems like to me if you had any, I’d take a right smart of interest in em. If maybe they happened to be a little gal ——” “‘T reckon the best way for us to do is to leave it to Miss Moseley,”’ says Joe after a spell. “I ain’t no doubt whatever who she’ll pick.” “Nor I ain’t either,” says Tony. ‘“‘The first thing, though, we'll have to get ac- quainted with her.” ” “Sure,” says Joe. given name is.” So they let it go at that, and the balance of the afternoon they put in brushing their good clothes and shining up their shoes and getting haircuts and shaves and blowing themselves for neckties, so when they went downstairs to supper they was in good shape to get acquainted. In a week’s time they’d got along to the point of telling Mariana what kind of a day it was without changing color to speak of, and she had got so she kind of interested herself in their victuals, not that they cared what they got as long as they could watch her moving about the dining room. Once she forgot to give them their pie and they never said a dog-gone word until she noticed. “‘Why ever didn’t you tell me?” she asks. ‘‘Don’t you like cream custard?” “It’s one of our favorite kinds of pie, ma’am,” says Joe, “‘but it wasn’t worth troubling you about it. We wouldn’t have had you put yourself out to go back to the kitchen special on our account, not on no account, Tony nor me wouldn’t, and thank you kindly, ma’am.” ‘‘We’re certainly a heap obliged to you, ma’am, but you needn’t to have troubled,” says Tony. “Well, if you two ain't the limit!” says Mariana. “You must think I’m sick abed. Didn’t you know I was paid wages to wait on you and see that you got what was coming to you? Well, I am, and I wouldn’t have took the job if I wasn’t strong enough to walk to the kitchen with- out suffering.” They just kind of mumbled something and she went off and brought ’em another cup of coffee apiece and laughed as she set “IT wonder what her the cups down. A day or two later she told "em she wondered why they didn’t eat off the same plate. “‘ You're great friends, ain't you, you two?” she says. Joe was generally the first to speak up. “T sure think a heap of Tony,” says he, “and I got a good right to,” he says. “The longer you know Tony, the more —— Well, I hate to praise a man right to his face, but if I said anything at all, that’s what I'd be doing.” “That's just a crazy notion he’s got,” says Tony. ‘‘When you get to know Joe like I do you won't wonder that I trail around after him. He's iittle, but, oh, my! Excuse me, Joe.” “I'd have had trade lasts on both of you if you had each told me separate,” says Mariana. “Well, I reckon it’s better than all the backcapping I hear around this room. You boys are from Texas, ain’t you? I'd like to have you tell me about Texas sometime. I knew a girl who worked in San Antonio and she thought it was just lovely.” “It'll sure be a pleasure to Tony, and he knows Texas from one end to the other,” says Joe. “Joe can tell you much better than what I can about the real interesting places,” says Tony. ‘“‘He’s been to Santone, and he’s seen the ocean at Corpus Christi, and he was to Austin one time. He'll be tickled to death to tell you all there is to tell.” “Well, I don’t care which of you tells it,” says Mariana. Joe and Tony was all set up about that. They was getting acquainted all right. As soon as they got upstairs to their room, Joe slapped Tony on the back and Tony liked to knock the wind out of Joe pounding him. “This here’s your chance, Tony,”’ says Joe. “You just walk in the parlor some evening and take a chair alongside of her and con- verse about the Lone Star State for an hour or so, and by that time you'll be the solid Muldoon. I'll kind of ride herd on Pa and Ma Willer.” “Not any,” says Tony. “This is your layout, Joe. Anyway, you're the enly one of us two that could talk two hours on end. If there’s anybody gets solid, it’s a-going to be you.” They argued back and forth about it and finally compromised by agreeing to both go in together the first evening that there wasn’t any transients off the Deadwood stage. There wasn’t no danger of the other boarders, account of smoking not being allowed and refined language required, and Mariana being kind of stand-offish. The boys often remarked that. There wasn't one of them could get along with her apast a certain point. Up to that she was as pleasant as a basket of chips, but if any rooster went too far, it wasn’t long before he come a-scooting back to where he be- longed with ashes and sackcloth. It come about the very next night. Joe and Tony walked into the parlor two abreast and found ma darning Fred's socks on one side of the table under the hanging lamp and Mariana on the other side a-reading a book. Old Fred had his feet on the rail of the stove, but he took ’em down in a hurry and most jumped out of his chair. “Judas priest!” he said. “I thought they’d tracked me down at last. But it ain't so, is it? Don’t tell me you boys have got a warrant for me!" “Now, pa,” says Mrs. Willer, “be ashamed of yourself! Don’t you pay no attention to his foolishness, boys. Set down.” “If we ain't intruding ’ says Joe. “We ain’t wishful to intrude,” says Tony. “Well, well!” says Fred. “Well, well, well!”’ He winked at Mariana. “Intrude nothing!"’ he says. “Ain't that right, Mariana?” “Of course it’s right,’’ Mariana says. Ma laid down her darning and hitched her chair around and tried to make herself look like a hundred and eighty pounds of bright sunshine. Mariana closed her book (Continued on Page 114

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eur a eum - ne 7] —s : ‘ 12 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Why does growing its own rubber enable the United States Rubber Company to give you more for your tire money ? ECAUSE—better rubber builds better tires. Many years ago the makers of United States Tires started their search for finer, cleaner rubber in larger quantities. The only way to get it was to grow the rubber themselves. UNITED Today the United States Rubber Company’s Plantations contain 10,000,000 pedigreed rubber trees, yielding large quantities of the finest kind of rubber latex. They provide an ever-increas- ing source of supply for the finest rubber that can be produced. STATES ROYAL CORD BALLOON UNITED STATES TIRES ARE Gooo TIRES Bud-grafling from selected stock on US Rubber Company Plantation ~ Built by the FLAT BAND METHOD June 11,1927

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Q. A. Q. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Questions that are asked about “Getting More for Your Money” in tires... and the Answers Is the difference in rubber quality all in the growing? No. Much depends also on how the liquid latex is con- verted into rubber for manu- facturing purposes. That is where the Sprayed Rubber Process contributes to better tires. * * . Why is this Sprayed Rubber United States fags % .o A. Q. Process so important? It is a method developed and patented by the United States Rubber Company, which de- rives rubber from latex with- out the use of smoke or chem- icals. It produces purer, more uniform, stronger, longer- wearing rubber. What other United States Rubber Company develop- ments add to the mileage of Royal Cord Balloons? . Three of the most important are: Web Cord, a new and bet- ter cord and rubber structure for the body of the tire—the Flat Band Method, a new and better process of tire build- ing—and the Flat Tread which established the correct tread principle for balloon tires two years ago. aie Rubber Company

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114 “Ain’t it wonderful when you can show the wife a bargain like this!’’ Only a dollar—but, Man, what value! All you've wanted in un- derwear but never found before— that’s Big Yank! More comfort— better fir—longer wear! Only the big volume of the Reliance Manu- facturing Company, the world’s greatest shirtmakers, makes pos- sible such fabrics—such a price— and these 6 GREAT FEATURES 1 Triple Stitched Secms Big Yank” 2 Elastic Spring Back om 3 Thread-Riveted if 4 Finished Armholes | * Stitched with a fine tade of tape, not emmed. i 5 Form Fitting Seat Balloon shaped gusset which conforms exact- ly to the human form. 6 Spread Crotch Gives easily and nat- urally in all positions without discomfort. Ask your dealer for Big Yank today. Or, if he has not received his stock, send only $3 for 3 suits. Satisfaction Guaranteed! rn ane ae j RELIANCE MANUFACTURING COMPANY | 212 W. Monroe Street, Chicago, Ill. Li (Write your dealer's name in the margin below) ooo | I Here's my $3. Send me 3 suits of the best under- | wear | ever saw for the money. ; | ae | Name. | | | | THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 111) on one finger. Joe right away took a chair close up to Fred, and Tony, after looking at the sofa, which was near Mariana, weak- | ened and took a chair on ma’s side of the table. “It’s right cold out tonight,” Tony says to the crayon enlargement of Mis’ Willer’s first husband that was hanging on the wall in front of him. “You don’t tell me!"’ says Fred. ‘Well, well! Still,” he says, “when you come to think of it, it ain’t so uncommon for us to have a little cool spell this time of year. Maybe it’s the snow on the ground that makes it. I kind of part lay it to that.” “‘Good and warm in here, though,” says ’ Joe, wiping his forehead with his handker- chief. “That’s account of the fire that there is in this here stove,”’ says Fred. ‘“‘ That’s my theery; but if you’re too hot here, you | might set on the sofa.” “No, I ain’t too hot,’’ says Joe. “Tf you're afraid of it sagging down at one end, Mariana could set on the other and hold it level,’’ Fred suggests. “Now, pa!” says Mrs. Willer. “You just hush,” says Mariana. “Or you might try the sofa, Beck,”’ Fred goes on. ‘‘You’re more Mariana’s heft.” “TI thank you kindly, but I wouldn’t choose to,” says Tony. “I’m right com- | fortable.” | they? “Even if you don’t look it,” says Fred. ““Now, pa!” says Mrs. Willer. “T got to say something,” says Fred. “‘Somebody’s got to say something, ain’t What’s the news around | town, boys?” “T don’t know of any particular news,” says Joe. “T ain’t heard nothing special,” says Tony. Well, it went on thataway for about a half an hour, and finally Joe and Tony give up and allowed they’d have to be moving. Fred said that early to bed and early to rise made a man healthy, wealthy and wise, and for them to come again when they wasn’t so rushed. They heard old Fred a-laughing as they went upstairs, and what was worse, they heard Mariana | a-laughing along with ma; but after they had thrashed the whole matter out, they allowed they’d try it again. “It was me balled things up,” said Tony. ‘“‘I had ought to have sat on that sofa right away, and when we got started on the cold weather that was my chance to have spoke up and told how different it was down south in Texas. I’m a heap sorry.” “You don’t need to be,” says Joe. “It was me that was to blame, but I just got rattled. It took all the nerve I’ve got to | get me into that room.” But they got their nerve up again, and | that time they told Mariana all about going around in your shirt sleeves and hunting the shade at this time of year down | in God's country. They told her about the magnolias and the oleanders and camellias a-blooming in the places where they bloomed and perfumed the air; and they | told her about the pecan trees and the live oaks and the lizards and about the mocking birds a-singing on the bough. Most of it was toid by Joe, but Tony put in a consid- erable for him when he seen Mariana was interested. “My!” says Mariana. “It must be just perfectly lovely down there. My! I’d like to live there.”’ Ma Willer said it seemed like it would be good for pa’s rheumatism, wouldn’t it, pa? And she certainly would like to see them lightning bugs; and pa says yes, but them wasn’t the onliest kind of bugs there was there if al) tales was true, and how about them fever ticks and horned toads and scorpions and northers? But nobody paid any attention to him, and Mariana said again that she knew she would just love it down there. “Tony’s got a right nice little ranch not far from Laredo,” says Joe. ‘‘There’s a good ’dobe house on it, and plenty of water, and it’s wooded a-considerable. You can EVENING POST step right out and get you a nice fat wild turkey most any time. As sightly a place as there is in the state, that place of Tony’s, with a little fixing up. There’s a big fig tree right close to the house, and them figs is like honey.” “Just think of that!” says Mariana. “Tt’s Joe’s place as much as it is mine, and more so,”’ says Tony. ‘‘He’s welcome to any little interest I’ve got in it any time he takes a notion to settle down. Me, I ain’t so much on settling down any one spot, but Joe he’d stay there contented if he got the right kind of woman and made good money.” Old Fred spoke up to Mariana. “Seems like to me you'd be safe whichever one you took, Mariana,” he says, “‘but I’d have ’em put it down in black and white.” “Now, pa!” says Mrs. Willer. “You just hush your mouth, Mr. Willer,” says Mariana. Well, after that night the boys got along fine. The both of them took Mariana to the Lit’ry and it got to be the regular thing whenever there was any doings that Mr. Tony Beck and Mr. Joe Simpson was Miss Mariana Moseley’s escort. Of course every- body joshed Mariana about it, but she just laughed. ‘‘’Tain’t every girl can have two beaus at once to take her places, without more or less scrapping,” she says. “It’s kind of a novelty.” The next thing I heard was that they was a-givin’ her candy jointly and that a fellow had to be mighty careful what he said and how he said it around the Willer House dining room. Bud Lewis told me about one fellow that come in on the Deadwood stage, that asked Mariana what there was to eat, and she says, ‘‘There’s beansoup’n sirloinsteak’nporkchops’nGermanfried’ta- ters’ncoleslaw’napple’ncoconutpie’ncheese teacoffee.”’ “Well,” says this here stranger, “‘I’ll take a glass of water and a sweet smile, and then the sirloin steak and et ceteras with more smiles and apple pie and kind words and coffee.” “You're lia} ‘2 to get something else that I ain’t mentioned and that’s a slap in the face,” says Mariana, and flounced off, and a couple more fellows at the same table give this fellow the laugh. Right then Tony Beck and Joe Simpson got up and walked over to him. Joe taps the fellow on the shoulder. ‘‘Was you a-goin’ on to Dead- wood, mister?”’ he asks him. “Yes,”’ says the fellow, looking around. “Why?” he asks. “I was wondering whether you'd sooner go with a skinful of whole bones or whether you think you'd ride easier with ’em in splinters,”’ says Joe. “Yes, that was what we was a-wonder- ing,’’ says Tony. “You don’t need to tell us,” Joe con- tinues. ‘If you apologize humble and suit- able to that young lady when she comes back, and then keep your fool mouth closed exceptin’ to put food in it, as like as not you'll live on to a ripe old age, but gosh help you if you think I’m joking. We'll be listening.” “We'll have an eye on you and an ear open,’’ says Tony, nodding at him, and then the two of them walked back to their table in a hurry and sat down. “T presume the fellow apologized,’’ I says to Bud. “T p’sume likely he did,” says Bud, ‘‘and I p’sume that some of these fine snappy days them fools will undertake to correct the manners of the wrong man and leave the dining room feet foremost. That sales- man ain’t the only one that’s been tapped on the shoulder, and they got the nerve to warn other folks off. Tony tells ’em that Mariana’s Joe’s girl and Joe tells ‘em she’s Tony’s girl, and between ’em they’ve got everybody buffaloed. I think it’s about time I took a hand in this game. Enough’s a plenty.” “Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Bud,” I advised him. “I’ve got good jaws,” says Bud, and he opened his mouth and brought them to- gether with a snap like a wolf. “If Mariana June 11,1927 wasn’t good and able to take care of her- self ——-” he says, and then stopped short. “Yes?” says I; but he just give a short snorting sort of a laugh. ‘‘She’s a mighty fine girl; if it wasn’t for —’’ I stopped and pushed out my lip. He turned on me quick as a flash with fight in his eyes. “Tf it wasn’t for what?” he says. ‘‘Be careful what you’re going to say, Stegg. I’m telling you. Listen! I say there ain’t no ifs and ands about it. Now am I a liar?” “Not when you say that,” I told him, “and I’ve known you to tell the truth once in a while other times,” I says. ‘‘What I was a-going to say was that if it wasn’t for Joe and Tony—and you—I might shine up to her myself. You shouldn’t be so quick on the trigger, Bud. I didn’t think you could be drawed out so easy.” “*Dog-gone your hide!”’ says he, looking kind of sheepish. ‘But it ain’t none of your business, is it now?” “Not if you put it thataway,” I says. “You met up with Mariana wherever it was she come from, didn’t you?” ‘What makes you think so?” he asks me, and I told him it was one thing or an- other, but I might be mistaken, and any- way it wasn’t none of my business, like he said. So we let it go at that. I kept on expecting that something would break loose right soon and I kept on getting fooled. One by one the days passed and weeks come and went, and the first thing you know there was a month gone, and an- other and into the next. The chinooks had begun to blow once in a while and took off the most’ of the snow, and it looked like spring was a-going to get Old Man Winter out of her lap; but things had been going on much about the same. Joe and Tony was still beauing Mariana together, and between times, if either one of them had speech with her by himself, he put in the time telling her what a model and pattern and example his pardner was. But finally something did happen and this was how it was: Jeff Kincaid, who had a truck ranch about a mile down the creek from town, gave a dance one night and Tony and Joe toek Mariana. I was there myself, and so was Bud Lewis. Also there was a niece of Kincaid’s that had come down from Cas- cade to visit with his girls, name of Eulalie Swigart. She was about as big as a minute, with curly hair that you didn’t skassly know whether to call yellow or light brown. Them was the first things you took notice of—first her size and then her hair. Next thing you’d be introduced and you'd notice her eyes, which was big and blue and real innocent. I didn’t get a chance to study her, but I certainly got the idee that she worked them eyes for all they was worth, and I was kind of surprised to find her a-working ’em clear across the room at Tony Beck. I thought to myself she was sure wasting her time, but half an hour later Tony was a-dancing the v’soovyann with her, the first time I’d ever seen him dance with anybody but Mariana since he’d been in town. Him and Joe always took turn and turn about with her and nobody else got a look-in. Well, I didn’t have no suspicion but what the big fool was a-sacrificing himself on Joe’s account, even when he danced with this here little lady the second time. The only thing I was tickled to see Joe looking at him. He was so rattled that he didn’t take advantage of his chance to get the extra dance with Mariana, and the result was that Walt Pringle got it. Bud Lewis tried. I seen him go up to Mariana and speak to her, and I p’sume he was asking her for the honor and pleasure, but she turned him down. I couldn’t see that she even spoke then; just shook her head and got up and walked away from him like he wasn’t there, and then Pringle grabbed her. The next day, along in the afternoon, Joe come into the pool parlor and looked around the room sort of worried. I asked him if he was looking for somebody. (Continued on Page 116) oon

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(Continued from Page 114 “Ain't seen nothing of Tony, have you?” he asked me. I hadn't, and he said it was mighty cur’ous and went out again. Just as I was a-coming back from supper I met him on the street and he asked me again if I’'d seen Tony. ‘‘ He’s been gone all of this afternoon and he ain't back yet,” says he. “Mighty cur’ous! I’ve been in every living place around town and I can’t find hide nor hair of him. The livery’s the only place I ain’t been. I’m just a-going there.” I went with him, and Ben Parloa said yes, Tony had come and got his horse a little after neon. Said he was a-going to give him a little exercise and rode him off down the creek. That horse was pretty fresh. He sure done some lively pitching. Joe turned pale. “Judas priest !"’ he says. “That old buckskin devil has sure throwed Tony or slipped and rolled on him. Was he shod? Never mind. Where's my horse?”’ And he got his horse out and saddled in a hurry. I got mine st the same time and we rode down the creek together. When we come to Kincaid’s, I says, “Let's turn in here and ask Jeff if he’s seen anything of him,” and by jollies, the first thing we seen as we rode a-past the kitchen window was this little cutie, Eulalie Swi- gart, a-washing dishes and exercising her eyes, and standing right alongside her, grin- ning like a Chessy cat, with an apron tied around him and a dish towel in his hand, was Tony Beck. They heard us and !ooked out of the win- dow, so we had to go to the door, and Jeff pened it and helped us tie our horses. Then we went in, here was Tony—without his apron—grinning and looking foolish. Well, sir, he was right sorry that Joe had got uneasy about him, and sho, there hadn’t been no need, He wasn’t in no ways in the habit of letting a horse throw him. Sure he’d have told Joe where he was a-going, only that he just sort of drifted in here; and anyway, he hadn’t aimed to stay long. He had piumb forgot about getting back to supper. “TIT wouldn’t let him go,” says cutie, a-smiling up at him. Joe was mad. I could see that, but he tried not to let on. “Well, we had better be a-going back,” he says. “I ain’t the only one that’s been anxious about you, Tony. Let's go.” “Oh, don’t go,” says cutie. “I'll be real mad at you if you go.” And she tried her eyes on Joe, and when that didn’t have no effect, she switched ’em onto Tony again. “T reckon I'll stay a while longer, but you can go on back if you want, Joe,” Tony says. “ You know where I am now, and 7’ll be along back pretty soon.” He laughed kind of silly, and when Joe looked at him, he looked every which way except at Joe. “Just as you say,”” Joe told him. ‘Good night, folks.” They all told us to come again. Cutie tags onto that: ‘‘When you can’t stay so long,” and Tony guffawed like that was the prize joke. Well, inside of fifteen minutes we was back in the livery again. Joe hadn’t said much on the way. Only once he said that Tony, seemed like to him, was certainly carrying the thing too far. I allowed that he seemed to be mighty took up with that little girl from Cascade. “Shucks!” says Joe. “Don’t you know no better’n that?” ’ A little before noon next day Bud sa’nters into the pool room. It was early for him, account of his being on the night shift at Frank’s and most always eating breakfast when I et dinner. He picked up a cue and begun to knock the balls about, and after a while he told me he'd got a letter from George Turner at the Welsh Harp ranch saying we was expected up there not later than the end of next week. ‘‘So you'll have to begin to earn your living again, old socks,” he says. ‘George told me to pass the word.” “That’s unpleasant tidings,” says I. “I'm stiff and sore right now from just riding a couple of miles yesterday.” THE SATURDAY Bud chalked his cue. “I reckon George will have to get a couple of more men in place of Tony Beck and Joe Simpson,” he says. “One, anyway.”’ I just stared at him. ‘Because I don’t reckon the two of ’em will work for the same outfit,”” he goes on. “That bust-up between them that I told you was a-coming has done busted. I’m told that Tony has moved over to the Gillespie and Joe’s a-staying on at Fred’s. I’m also informed that they're both a-going heeled, and if our worthy marshal don’t take them guns away from 'em, they're going to shoot at sight. Happened this morning.” I was certainly took aback. “What was it about?’ I asked. ‘Who seen it?” “Nobody seen it that I know of,” says Bud. “As to what it was about—well, I reckon it’s up to me to investigate. I thought you might know something, but I see you don’t.”’ He put his cue back in the rack and sa’ntered out; but I had a hunch that he wasn’t showing all he felt, and I looked out the door and seen him heading for Willer’s at a tol’able lively clip. It didn’t take me long to make up my mind to do a little investigating myself, but I had to stop a minute to speak to Steve as I went out, so Bud got quite a start on me. Even so, I got there in time to get a line on what was a-going on. Just as I passed the parlor I seen Bud and Mariana in there together and facing each other. Bud had his arms folded and was looking straight at her and she had her hands clasped be- hind her and was looking straight at him. I didn’t aim to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help catching a little of what they said. ‘Granting that you ain’t to blame for it, how long do you reckon I’m a-going to let things run on thisaway?” says Bud. “You know what I told you,” says Mari- ana, ‘If you want me to go back to you, first off you'll take back every word you said, and thep-you get right down on your knees—on ygur knees, mind—and beg my pardon for having said ’em. I told you that nearly a year ago and I tell you that now.” Being a gentleman I passed on and went into the dining room. Joe Simpson was a-setting there aloe at the same table him and Tony had always sat at. He just frowned and nodded—didn’t say a word. “‘What’s all this I hear about you and Tony, Joe?”’ I asked him. “How in hell would I know what you hear and what in hell do I care?’’ he says, snapping at me. “You going to sit here?” “Not if you've got any objections,” I says “Not an objection,” says he, and got up and walked out of the room, leaving his dinner not half eaten. I might have felt hurt in my feelings, but I wasn’t. I had a kind of an idee he wasn’t in no state of mind to be held responsible; and then, ina minute or two, Mariana came hurrying in. She certainly looked a considerable flus- tered, and there was one lock of her black hair that had got loose and sort of dangled down behind her ear. She hustled into the kitchen and come out with pie for a couple of the boarders and with her hair pinned up again. Then she come up to me. “Hello, stranger,”’ she says. ‘Thought you'd come and get a square meal, did you? Why, Joe ain’t et his dinner! I seen him going up to his room, but I thought he’d finished. Ain’t it too bad them boys has fussed? Well, I guess they'll soon make up again. What do you want to eat? We got ——”” And she went on to tell me what there was, acting like she didn’t want to give me a chance to say anything, and sailing off the minute I’d given my order. I didn’t press her none, but as soon as I had et I lit a segar and went upstairs to Joe’s room and knocked. ‘‘Stay out!’ he hollers, so I went in. Well, it all come out. It’s a fact that ifa person’s in trouble he’s just naturally got to tell somebody about it. Uf there’s bleeding wounds in his sperrit he’s got to have the healing oil and frankincense of sympathy poured into him; and if there ain’t no tact- ful friend to do the pouring them wounds EVENING POST will fester and p’isen his whole system. Joe bluffed some and hummed and hawed, but after a while it come with a rush. Seems like he’d been so dog-gone sure that Tony was just making believe to chase this here Eulalie runt that he’d gone to bed and slept before Tony got in, and when Tony told him in the morning that he was sure enough dead gone on her, still he wouldn't believe it. ‘‘That’s all right, Tony,” he says, ‘‘but you can’t fool me. I ain’t to be considered in this here matter. Mariana’s yourn to have and to hold, and all I ask you is to fix it up with her and get it over with. You could get hitched and take her down to Laredo and I could stay on here this season and visit you before snow flies again.” *“‘Joe,”’ says Tony, “‘there’s only one girl I’m going to get hitched up to, and that’s Eulalie Swigart. I certainly did think that I loved Miss Moseley with an undying love, although I always figured to have you marry her. But, Joe, there ain’t no more comparison the way I feel about Eulalie and the way I felt about Miss Moseley than nothing. Miss Moseley’s an elegant lady, but I didn’t know there was anybody any- where like Eulalie. I didn’t know nothing. You seen her yourself, Joe. Ain’t she the cunningest, sweetest little girl ever was set down on this mortal sp’ere? My gosh! And, Joe, old pardner, she thinks a heap of me. I only got to say the word—and I’m going to say it. Say, Joe, how would it be if I bought that place of Esteban Gui- terras’ and we lived neighbors? Gosh! You and me settin’ out in the shade of that live oak and a-smoking and spittin’ and gassin’ and the girls in white dresses in ham- mocks! . . . Say, you ain’t sick, are you? You're white as ashes.” “You mean to say you're a-going back on Mariana?” Joe asks him. “No going back about it,” says Tony. “I never give her to understand I was a-coming forward.” “Ain't I give her to understand that you was?”’ says Joe, shaking his finger in his face. “Ain’t I told her that you wor- shiped the ground she walked on? You going to make me out a liar and maybe break her heart? You going to act like a dirty scalawag just because a giggling little - “Stop right there, Joe Simpson!” says Tony, slamming his fist on the table. “Don’t you say nothing against the girl I'm a-going to marry. Yes, I’m a-going to go to Kincaid’s right now and ask her to marry me.” “Then take this along with you,” says Joe, and he hauled off and slapped Tony in the face open-handed and as hard as he could swing. Tony staggered back and stood gaping for a moment, and then jumped and caught Joe by the throat. If he had clamped down then he could have killed him as easy as falling off a log, but instead of that he’d hardly got his grip when he let loose and walked out of the room. Maybe he thought of the arroyo at El Almozada, maybe not; but he went off, and when he come back it was just to stuff his plunder into his war sack and quit the hotel. “‘Seems like you acted kind of unreason- able,” I remarked to Joe. “TI don’t see it thataway,” says Joe. “Think I'd see the girl I—that I think a heap of mittened and not do nothing? And Tony won’t be happy with that Eulalie, at that. She ain’t like Mariana, straightfor- ward and square. Well, I'll never suit her nothing like Tony would have, although I'll do my best.” *“‘ Are you going to ask her?” I inquired. “T sure am,”’ says Joe. “‘I’ll sure let her know that one of us is true to her.” “Well, wait a few days before you do, anyway,” I advised him, and he said that he would, not feeling in a love-making humor right then. He’d put it to her to- morrow. So I left him to his sorrows for che past and hoped for the future. Late in the afternoon I got to thinking over what Joe had told me about Tony going over to Kincaid’s, and I stepped over ——— June 11,1927 to Parloa’s livery to see if Tony’s buckskin was there. It wasn’t, so I asked Ben if Tony had took it. “Sure,”’ says Ben. ‘‘He come in here all dressed to kill about a couple of hours ago and got it. Say, has Tony got him a new girl?) And what’s all this talk about him and Joe Simpson getting a divorce?” “What did Tony tell you?”’ I asked him. “He said that it wasn’t none of my dog- gone business,’”’ says Ben. “I told him I knew it and that was why I was so dog- gone interested; but he didn’t give me no satisfaction. Here he comes now. You see what you can get out of him.” I didn’t need to ask any questions. I only had to look at Mr. Beck to see that if he had been down to Kincaid’s with the intentions he declared, somebody had monkeyed with the medicine sack. He rode all humped over in the saddle, with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his face a foot long below; his boots and his pants was wet up to the knees and he was splashed a considerable, which I laid to him having crossed at the ford coming back from Kincaid’s without noticing the creek, He just sort of grunted when Ben spoke to him, and as soon as he had un- saddled he walked out. I seen him go into the Gillespie, and just then a top buggy with a team of grays went by, a lad in a wolfskin coat a-driving. Ben waved to him and he waved back. “Who's that fellow?” I asked. “Dave Greenway, from Cascade,” says Ben. “I reckon he’s a-going to Kincaid’s to collect his girl—Eulalie Swigart. They’re a-going to get married the first of next month, and I sure wish Dave joy; but he’s the first ever held that little devil even. I hear she’s plumb loony over him, so maybe she won't give him the grief that I’d be willing to bet she will.” “You know her, do you?”’ I asked him. “‘Knowed her since she was knee high to a grasshopper,” says Ben, ‘‘and I never knew anybody that wore pants that she didn’t set out to make a fool of if she could. That girl’s made more trouble than you could shake a stick at. Hooks ’em and lands ’em and then throws ’em back into the water with sore gills.” So that was that; but, as the fellow says, the worst was yet to come. I thought I’d see Bud Lewis at supper, but instead of that, when I got to the house I found Ma Turgoos pop-eyed and a-busting with news. Hadn’t I heard? For the land’s sake, where had I been? The whole town was a-ringing with it. Why, Bud Lewis had left on the down stage, bag and bag- gage; sold his horse to Ray Seger for thirty dollars cash, and Frank Frush gave him thirty more for his saddle and bridle. Said he had important business calling him East. She took a fresh breath and got more pop-eyed than ever. And who did I sup- pose went with him? She’d give me a hun- dred guesses. Well, sir, it was Mariana Moseley—no, that ain’t right—Mariana Lewis— Mis’ Lewis, if you please. Would I believe them two had been married nearly a couple of years? Yes, sir! Back in Lincoln. Married and letting on like they was single and hadn’t seen each other be- fore. Seemed like they’d quarreled about something and Bud had quit her. Mis’ Willer had told Ma Turgoos all about it, or as much as Mariana told. Bud had left Mariana the house and what money he had and lit out, and there was so much talk that after a while she lit out too. She didn’t know whether or not it was happen-chance Mariana come here, but anyway it seemed like that today they made up and lit out on the stage together, and Mis’ Willer and Fred was a-scurrying around trying to get help. I wasn’t surprised it had happened, but I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. It looked like things had been crowded enough that day—two manly hearts broke and a beautiful friendship busted. When I went back to the pool room it was crowded and everybody talking about (Continued on Page 121)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST An amazing Step forward BESTWALL with the Here is news of greatest importance to every home owner, every prospective home owner, every architect, contractor and builder. The amazing improvement—Bestwall Beveled Edge—which makes possible a perfectly smooth, invisible joint between panels of Bestwall is now obtainable everywhere. This remarkable idea was introduced in the East. So rapidly was it taken up that our entire Eastern mill capacity was re- quired to meet the demand. Now, with greater production facilities, everyone may have Beaver Bestwall with the improved Beveled Edge. Everyone may have the smooth, clean, jointless walls Bestwall makes. Everyone may have Bestwall’s greater strength—its tough Beaver fibre facing which takes decoration so much better. Beaver Bestwall with the Beveled Edge is a fine insulator. It is also approved by the Board of Fire Underwriters for fire- resisting qualities. Remember, all plaster wall board is NOT Beaver Bestwall. To be sure of Bestwall’s superior advantages, call for it by name and be sure it has the CREAM-colored surface. See and test the Beveled Edge. Beaver Bestwall is still made with the square edge for those who prefer it. For sample and literature about the Beveled Edge, address our Dept. 1006, THE BEAVER PRODUCTS CoO., Inc., Buffalo, N. Y.; Thorold, Ontario, Canada; London, England. The exclusive Beveled Edge. Insuressmooth, seamless, keyed-in joints Manufacturers also of Beaver Board, Beaver American Plaster, Gypsum Lath, Gypsum Block, Thermocrete (Cellular Gypsum), Varnishes and Enamels, Beaver Vulcanite Asphalt Shingles, Mineral and Smooth Surfaced Roll Roofings, Asphalt Paints and Cements THE SUPERIOR PLASTER WALL BOARD

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118 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

Pett FeV-O N HIS fashionable dining room suite, inspired by the majesty and charm of Shakespeare's England, is worthy indeed of its historic name. For rugged beauty of design and inimitable smartness of appoint- ment and finish, The Avon is outstanding even among Berkey & Gay's selection of more than a hundred patterns. Only a few years ago such a suite, bear- ing the coveted Berkey & Gay Shop Mark, would have cost considerably more. Next week, exhibited by the representative dealers listed on the two following pages, its special price will surprise and appeal to everyone. The Avon provides not only the atmos-

FURNITURE’S PROUDEST COAT-OF-ARMS Look for this Shop Mark inset in every Berkey & Gay creation. It is your protection when buy- ing, and your pride ever after. phere of gracious antiquity, but sound construction and exquisite beauty as well. Examine it detail by detail. Note, for in- stance, the richness of the wood figuring— hand matched and cunningly contrasted; the minute artistry of the hand-carved panels; the cameo-like exactitude of the mouldings; the colorful hand-painted dec- oration on the china cabinet; the dignity and grace of the stretchers and sturdy bulbiform legs; the animated, hand-rubbed wax finish—as mellow in tone as a rare antique. All attest a quality of workmanship that transcends mere craft and achieves the dignity of a work of art. BERKEY & GAY SUITES ARE PRICED FROM $200 TO $6000 BERKEY & GAY FURNITURE COMPANY, GRAND RAPIDS, June 11, 1927 | <(orthy of this

Each chair is easeful in comfort and, faithful to its distinguished lineage, a thing of beauty. The velouz upholstering, selected for durability and beauty, fits the design. A wax finish, executed by hand, charms the suite to its lustrous warm brown tone. High- lighting of the hand carving and turnery insinuates antiquity.

Jacobean style, that is The Avon. Every piece is the essence of thoughtful, expert design. Every piece typifies the seventeenth century English taste, but is mod- ern in comfort and convenience. For example, a plush-lined tray, partitioned for silverware, and deep trays for delicate table linens will be found in the side- board.

An accent of color, so requisite to the furnishing of modern homes, is contributed to the group by the china cabinet—its door hand-painted in antique Chinese vermilion decoration. The beauty of appropriate woods —enriched by crotch and burl figures —complements this zest- ful color charm. Berkey && Gay MICHIGAN « Founded in 1853

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 119 CNation- (wide PRESENTATION believe The Avon to be unusual in careful workmanship, correct design, authentic style, rich beauty of the woods and finish. cCAnd its price, as quoted by these representative stores throughout CAmentca, should be both surprising and pleasing. BERKEY & GAY FURNITURE COMPANY HIS STATEMENT is further endorsed by these foremost retail stores, where The Avon will be on display the morning of a U HE I] th continuing until e. U V] 2 18 th WATCH FOR THEIR NEWSPAPER ANNOUNCEMENTS OF DETAILS AND PRICES ALABAMA BIRMINGHAM — Hood-Wheeler Furniture Corp. MONTGOMERY —Frank Tennille Furniture Company ARIZONA PHOENIX — Barrows Furn. Co., Inc TUCSON —Albert Steinfeld & Co. ARKANSAS FORT SMITH — Eads Bros. Furn. Co JONESBORO— Johnson-Berger & Co LITTLE ROCK —Arkansas Carpet & Furniture Co. The Gus Blass Co. NEWPORT — Albright Furniture Co. PINE BLUFF—Knox-Walker Furni- ture Company TEXARKANA— Rodgers Furn. Co. CALIFORNIA BAKERSFIELD— Minner's LOS ANGELES—Barker Bros., Inc. OAKLAND—John Breuner Co. PASADENA— Pasadena Furn. Co sa yea the ben Breuner Co. I GO— The Bledsoe Company SAN FRANCISCO—Lachman Bros. A . Sloane Sterling Furniture Company SAN JOSE— Robinson's SANTA ANA—Chandlers SANTA BARBARA—Henry Levy STOCKTON —John Breuner Co. COLORADO COLORADO SPRINGS—Giddings & ir DENVER—American Furniture Co. he Denver Dry Goods Co. GREELEY —Clough's Furniture PUEBLO—Calkins-White Bros. Fur- niture Co. CONNECTICUT BRIDGEPORT—Geo. E. Nothnagle n BRISTOL—C. Funk & Son, Inc. DANBURY—Henry Dick & Son DEEP RIVER—Simon R. LaPlace HARTFORD —G. Fox & Co., Inc. MERIDEN—Bullard, Fowler & La Place, Inc. MIDDLETOWN — The James H. Bunce Company NEW BRITAIN-—B. C. Porter Sons NEW HAVEN — The Chamberlain Co. NEW LONDON —The Plaut-Cadden Company NORWICH SOUTH MANCHESTER The Plaut-Cadden Co Watkins ros., Inc. STAMFORD —Silberman's Furniture Store WATERBURY — Hampson, Mintie & Abbott, Incorporated DELAWARE WILMINGTON — Wilmington Furni- ture Co. DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA WASHINGTON — Mayer & Co. Woodward & Lothrop Look for window displays of The Avon —in these stores—June 11 to June 18 FLORIDA De LAND—Tarr's of De Land JACKSONVILLE—Chadwick Furni- ture Company vr A. Cunningham MIAMI—Hirsch-Fauth Furniture Co Moore Furniture Company, Inc. ST. AUGUSTINE—St. Augustine Music & Furniture Co. SANFORD —Smith Bros., Inc TAMPA-— Tarr Furniture Co., Inc GEORGIA ATLANTA ture Co Wiley Jones Furniture Shoppe SAVANNAH —Lindsay & Morgan Co IDAHO BOISE —Standard Furniture Co IDAHO FALLS J POCATELLO— Petersen Furn. Co Duffee-Freeman Furni- -Petersen Furn. Co. ILLINOIS ALTON —C. J. Jacoby & Co. AURORA m L. Bleitz Ada BELVIDERE — Witbeck & Johnston BLOOMINGTON—G. A. Ensenber ge Sons CHAMPAIGN —C. A. Kiler CHICAGO— Alexander H. Revell&Co The Tobey Furniture Company DANVILLE—Sandusky Furn. Store DECATUR—The Weilepp & Stuckey Furniture Co ELGIN—Kimball Furn. & Rug Co JACKSONVILLE —Andre & Andre JOLIET —A. Leath. & Co M i—Gus Schlicher ¢-—Shallene Brothers z Loewenstein & Main, Inc QUINCY —Roy Bennett ROCKFORD —A. Leath & Co SPRINGFIELD — Johnston-Hatcher Company CONTINUED ON THE FOLLOWING PAGE STERLING—Trouth & Son WAUKEGAN-—]. Blumberg, Inc Schwartz Furniture Co. INDIANA CONNERSVILLE The Guttman Housefurnishing Co CRAWFORDSVILLE ~- The C. ¢ Crist Furniture Co LAST CHICAGO—Seifer's EA ELKHART ie’s EVANSVILLE—The R. & G. Furni- ture Company FORT WAYNE—Jacob Tepper Co., Incorporated GARY — Radigan Brose HAM MOND --Seifer's INDIANAPOLIS-- Banner Furn. Co KOKODMO—- Smith & Jacobs LAFAYETTE — Reifers Furniture Co MARION — Johnston Furniture Co MISHAWAKA — Boiger Furniture Co. MUNCIE— Banner Furniture Co RICHMOND — The Romey Furn. Co TERRE HAUTE—J. W. Dailey Fur niture Co WHITING —Seifer's IOWA BURLINGTON — White Furn. Co CEDAR RAPIDS—The Killian Co CLINTON — Tucker Furniture & Car pet Company COUNCIL BLUFFS eller DAVENPORT-—W. S. Holbrook Co M. L. Parker Company DES MOINES —Ginsbergs DUBUQUE —Roshek Brothers Co. * FORT DODGE-—A. D. McQuilkia Company INDEPEN DENCE—Swan & Leytze IOWA CITY—McNamara Furn. Co MARSHALLTOWN Ryder Furni ture & Carpet Company MASON CITY—Mier Wolf & Sons Company, Inc OSKALOOSA — The McGregor Co OTTUMWA—W. H. Cooper & Sone SIOUX. CITY—Anderson Furn. Co The Pelletier Company TRAER~—H. Boettcher & Sons Fur niture Company VINTON —H. Boettcher & Sons Fur niture Company WATERLOO -—- Davidsons Continental- Furnitures ~~» 115 W. 40TH STREET NEW YORK WHOLESALE SHOWROOM:

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KANSAS ARKANSAS CITY — The Dry Goods Compa COFFEYVILLE — Furniture Company EMPORIA—J. C. ee Furn. Co H A. R. Slee Newman "The Coffeyville ~ Metsier Furniture C rm) Qui nm Furn. & Carpet Co. PITTSBURG — Up- oe Furni- ture & Carpet Compan SALINA --Stiefei Brothers & Co TOPEKA -- The Crosby Bros. Co. WICHITA~— The Geo. Innes Dry Goods Company KENTUCKY NGTON-—C. F. Brower & Co. LOUISVILLE --Central Furn, Co. Fred. W. Keisker & Son The Stewart Dry Goods Co MAYFIELD— Rhodes- Burford Co. PADUCAH — Rhodes- Burford Co. LOUISIANA BATON ROUGE-—Globe Furn. Co MON ROE Monroe Furn. Co., Ltd NEW ORLEANS— Barnett’s —_ H. B. Bradiord son Blanche Co. SH 3 VEPORT.- Booth Furniture & Carpet ( ompeny 4 Johnson Furniture Company MAINE BANGOR - Eastern Furniture Co. ae af Ny N Sepa ck Compa PORTL AND Atherton’s MARYLAND BAL TIMOR} Gomprecht & Benesch Gusdorff & Joseph Stewart & Co CUMBERLAND —L. Bernstein Fur- ture Co SALISBURY R. E. Powell & Co. MASSACHUSETTS »? Paine Furniture Compeny . RIVER — Modern Furn. Co >— Werber & Rose, Inc. _ = BEDFORD ~The Charles F : D ~ he srkshire Furn. Co SPRING 1ELD—Forbes & Wallace, M eekins Packard & Wheat, Inc WORCESTER— Denholm & McKay Company Fowler Furniture Company Hadley Furniture Company MICHIGAN ADRIAN —Walper Furniture Co. ar Ly ye ats Furn. Co. & Com BAT TLE c RELI k The Jury-Rowe Compan Turner Furniture Company BAY CITY.-—C. E. Rosenbury & Sons ae ty 8 genie -W. G. New- nd & DETROIT. “The J L. Hudson Co Newcomb-Endicott Company Pringle Furniture Company ESCANABA— Anderson & Bonefeld FLINT — Wimegarden’s Furniture GRAND RAP!IDS— Bishop Furn. Co. Klingman Furniture Company Young & Chaffee Furniture Co. GREENVILLE—Greenville Furni- ture Company HOWELL —G. H. Beurmann ISHPEMING JACKSON — The 2 KALA MAZOO— Gilmore Brothers The Home Furnishing Company Arne parven -Estes Company he y-Rowe Company MON R¢ SE Edgar H Stadelman MT CL EN 4ENS— The Schutt Furni- ure Store ML SKEG¢ IN — Bishop Furniture Co PON TIAC —Stewart-Glenn Co Wolverine Manufacturing Co PORT HURGN—The J. A. Davidson ged ta Henry Feige & Son ST. JOH E. ft. Hull & Son SAI .: 2 STE MARIE—Cowan & H In St NF "ELD ~Bera & Mapes MINNESOTA AL os RT LEA—Skinner Chamber- lain & Company DUL ut TH—-French & Bassett Co F.S. Kelly Furniture Company MANKATO—Landkamer Bros. Co MINNEAPOLIS—Boutell Bros., Inc L. S. Donaidson Company NEW ULM — Buenger F urn. Co., Inc ST. CLOUD ts humperlin Fur- niture Compan ST. PAUL The Golden Rule St. Pau! House Furnishing Co Schunemans and Mannheimers STILLWA TE R-—Simonet Furniture & Carpet Company MISSISSIPPI GREENVILLE —C. E. Jordan & Co. GREENWOOD — Jordan & Company JAC KSON — Rice's MERIDIAN--F_A. Hulett & Son VICKSBURG— Rice's MISSOURI COLUM BIA — Parker Furniture Co JEFFERSON CITY Walther-Wy- more Furniture & Undertaking Co k PLI IN eens Furniture Company ew ft KA NSAS * ‘ITY Duff & Repp Fur- niture Ce ST. JOSE PH \ Weigel Furniture & Carpet Com ST. LOt 1S: the t Lammert Furniture Company SEDALIA— McLaughlin Bros. Fur- niture Company THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CONTINUED FROM PRECEDING PAGE These leading furniture stores throughout the country will have Special Displays of the AVON DINING ROOM Suite June 11 to June 18 Watch your local papers for prices and details MONTANA SLINGS Billings Hardware Co. TE—Hennessy Company ERE dh — Standard Furniture Comp: CITY -J. E. Graves MILE NEBRASKA FREMONT—J.R Boder Furn. Co. py a rdy OMAHA—Orchard & Wilhelm Co NEVADA RENO — Donnels & Steinmetz, Inc NEW HAMPSHIRE MANCHESTER —Chas. A. Hoitt Co. NEW JERSEY ASBURY PARK —Steinbach Co. ATLANTIC CITY—M. E. Blatt Co. acob Rosenbaum’s Sons B. YONNE— Meyer L. Shapiro Est. CAMDEN B. Van Sciver Co ELIZABET MeManve Bros ERSEY (¢ ITY- J. W. Greene, Inc. YPORT — West Furniture Co. NEWARK—L. Bamberger & Co PASSAIC —The Berdan Furn. Co Greater New York Furniture Co M. Stark PATERSON — Broadway Furniture Co. Bros. Co. ¢ Rafner Furniture Company PLAINFIELD — The Rafner-Riskin Furniture Co TRENTON —A. V. Manning's Sons NEW MEXICO et ng Star Furniture Company, Inc. NEW YORK ALBANY —G. C. Reardon, Inc R. C. Reynolds, Inc Harry Simmons AMST PEA _atehotnes & Shans ANDOVER - . Brown BATAVIA a E acer tk Co. BINGHAMTON mae Bedding & Furniture Com as ~“Soal N— Abroban & Straus, The Namm Store John A. Schwarz, Inc. BUFFALO—Adam, Meldrum & An- derson Company Charles E. Foster The Wm. Hengerer Company —_ s Furniture Store, Inc. t Furniture Corporation Cc ORTLAND — The Peck Furniture Ho DU NK fire H C. Ehlers Co., Inc. GLEN COVE J. C. Dodge & Son ss FA LS — Wilmarth & Son, In HERKIMER— H. G. Munger & Co. ITHACA— Rothschild Bros LOCKPORT — Prudden-Weaver Co Ue Sons ~~ —/ CITY — Joseph Rose MED “0 Reilly & Son MIDDLETOWN: whee J. Startup, M VERNON — The Hermede Co. NEW wn RGH — Burger's Charles J. Stones Furniture Co NEW ROCHELLE—Geo. Ferguson Co we 4 PORK CITY—S. Baumann & Bloomingdale Bros., Inc Cowperthwait & Sons Geiger & Braverman Furniture Co Gimbel Brothers Keliner Brothers ames Peery & Company tern Brothers Philip Strobel "x Sons, Inc. ohn Wanamaker New York NIAGARA FALLS— The Arnson Furniture ¢ Cornell & H. J. Stone Furniture Co., Inc. NORWICH —Lawrence & Devine OLEAN — Bradner's PORT CHESTER—Joseph Tunick RIVERHEAD~— Jacob Meyer ROCHESTER—E. W. Edwards & Son H Graves Company, Inc Howe & Rogers Company SALAMANC: x Hunt Furniture Co SYRACUSE — Brown, Curtis & Brown, Inc E. W. Edwards & Son I. Fleischman & Sons TROY —Wwm. H. Frear & Co., Inc R. C. Reynolds, Inc Union Furniture Company UTICA— Robert Fraser, Inc WALDEN —T. L. Millspaugh Furni- ture House WHITE PLAINS—Frost Furn. Co. NORTH CAROLINA ASHEVILLE—J. L. Smathers & Sons CHARLOTTE—W. T. McCoy & Co Parker-Gardner Company GOLDSBORO — Royall > A spe Furniture & Carpet Com WINSTON-SALEM Huntiey- Hill- Stockton Company NORTH DAKOTA FARGO—Luger Furniture Company W. O. Olsen Peraiture Company JAMES TOWN ~— Goldberg's Furni ture Store MINOT— Minot Furniture Company — rope a >. H. Yeager Co ALLIA t W. Cope & Sons ‘s Furniture & ASHTABULA- John Ducro’s Sons HENS— The Swanson Furn. Co BRY AN—Bryan Furniture Company CANTON—The Betty Furniture Co. The Sell Company bey AGRIN FALLS— Brewster & ud CHILLICOTHE —M. N. Billings Co. Sbenhack & Sc CINCINNATI “The Alms & Doepke Company G. Henshaw & Sons Company The Kreimer & Brother Company The Robert Mitchell Furniture Co. CLEVELAND— The Sterling & Welch Company COLUMBUS—The F. & R & Company The McAllister-Mohler C ompany DAYTON —The Cappe! Furn. Co The P. M. Harman Company The vane Furniture Company Mlb ga he Hicks Company ELYRIA Sona s Furniture House FINDLAY—The Trout & Jackson Company FOSTORIA —Carr & Hicks FREMONT—Tschumy Bros., Inc GALION — Boehm's HAMILTON —Geo. Krebs’ Sons IRON TON —Goldcamp Furniture Co LORAIN — The Wickens Company MANSFIELD —Chas. Schroer Co MARIETTA—The Wieser & Cawley Company MARION — Schaffner's me ly FERRY—R. G M: XSSILL ON — The Mille r Furn. Co MIDDLETOWN — The F. Cappel Furniture Company NEWARE tn Carlile Furniture & Ce PAINESUIL ILLE Gail G. Grant Co PIQUA—The Cappel-Wayne Furni ture Com on PLEASAN TLE - Furniture eae PORTSMOUTH Gamusi Le vi& Co SAN j The Dilgart Sprau ¢ o The Herb & Myers Compan IN IELD— The C ieee House ing Company Lazarus Heslop The Brooke STRUTHERS—The Penner Furni- ture Compan TIFFIN — Jose A N. Ewald TOLEDO — The Buckeye Furniture Company The LaSalle & Koch Company The Nugent Furniture Company How: ard adcliffe Company TROY The Cappel-Wayne Furni- ture Cc ompany URBANA — Mammoth Furnishing Co. VAN WER alyeat Furniture Co WARREN Besanceney Furniture Company The Cross-Leslie Co. WOOSTER—The Danford Company XENIA—Adair’s YOUNGSTOWN —The H. L. McEI- roy Company The Strouss-Hirshberg Company The Homer S. Williams Company ZANESVILLE — Henneberg Furni- ture Company OKLAHOMA BARTLESVILLE — The Reliable Furniture Company BLACK WELL— Estes & Schorr Fur- niture & Mortuary Company CHICKASHA —Anderson Furn. Co. MUSKOGEE—T. O. Bass Furn. Co. Harbour's Street-Eicholtz Furniture Cc OKL: AHOM, wh “4g Y asheur: Long- mire Compa ORNULGS E— “McIntire Furn. Co. Okmulgee Furniture Company PONC oS ITY—Jay G. Paris TULSA—P. H. Bull Furniture OREGON PORTLAND—Meier & Frank Co. PENNSYLVANIA ALLENTOWN —C. A. Dorney Fur- iture Company ALTOONA—Harry J. Ker AMBRIDGE ~The Mercontt ture Company BEAVER FALLS— — Martsolf Furniture Comp a ee -j. ckacon & Bro BRISTOL— Jos. J. Spencer & Sons BROORVID L v4 —Reitz Furniture cone: In CHESTER— Frank Tollin, Inc. CONNELL ULSVILLE We ELLWOOD CITY eitwood City Furniture Company ERIE—Epp Furniture Company Erie Dry Goods oe Klick Furniture Compa: FORD CITY—A. Gre abe som & Son GREENSBU RG— Aaron's GROVE CITY—J. M. Willson & Sons H. yaa RG — Joseph Goldsmith Hz AZLE TON—Mrs. E. Jac OBL IS—N JEA TTE—Euwer & Co., Inc. Je NS rc IWN— Penn Traffic Co John Thomas & Sons LANCASTER — Keystone Furn. Co LATROBE —Stader Furniture Co. LEBANON — Berks Furniture Co LITITZ— Beck Brothers LOCKHAVEN — Maxwell Furniture Company, Inc McDONALD—Mel Moorhead AN Beck prane ts MEADVILLE—J. H. Nunn ROREITOWN B. E. ne Bros. OIL CITY ge J. ch Pui. “a L P HI x Telia Woes ake PI T TSBURGH Boggs & Buhl Kaufmann's POTTSTOWN—B. E. Block & Bros READING — Berks Furniture Co Harold Furniture Company RENOVO—Chas, F. Maxwell RIDGWAY —Smith Brothers Co. SCOT TDALE— Murphy & Son Furni- Reinhart's Leader June 11,1927 ae Select Furniture Cor- ior sHAR ‘ON Fe RS Willson & Sons TAMAQU A—Ed. J. Jennings ( he Templeton Company U NIONTOW’ Peoples Furn. Co WARREN —G. Gifford Smith Cc WILKES-BARRE-—Select F urniture on Corporatic Sees eroRt- A. H pany WINDBER Eureka Stores YORK—Gehly's Carpet House, Inc. RHODE ISLAND PROVIDENCE —Flint-Adaskin Fur- niture C ompany i Outlet Company The Shepard Company WESTERLY — The Gavitt Furn. Co. SOUTH CAROLINA COLUMBIA ~— Van Metre’s Heilman GREENVILLE —Craig-Rush Furni- ture Company ROCK HILL—W. G. Reid & Son SPARTANBURG SOUTH DAKOTA ABERDEEN — The Home Furn. Co. SIOUX FALLS—Home Furn. Co TENNESSEE CHATTANOOGA~— Clemons Bros KNOXVILLE— Henry G. Trent Fur- niture Company MEM PHIS—Armstrong Furn. Co Goldsmith & Sons Company owenstein s NASHVILLE-—The Cain-Sloan Co The Castner-Knott Dry Goods Co. TEXAS ABILENE—G. W. Waldrop & Co Vit sy ices O— Palo Duro Furn. Co STIN—C. A. Dahlich Swann- Schulle Furniture Co BEAUMONT Phoenix Furniture Co co RPO S CHRISTI—Allen Furn. Co DALLAS— Fakes Furn. & C arpet Co EL PASO— Hoyt Furniture Company FORT WORTH — Ellison Furniture & Carpet C ompany Fakes & Company GALV ESTON Kauffman, Meyers & Comp an y Vogel & Son, Inc. The New Furn. Co. A. Stowers Furn. Co. Waddell’s Housefurnishing Co KINGSVILLE len Furniture Co. LAREDO—G. A. Stowers Furn Co. PARIS— Rodgers-Wade Furniture Co. SAN ANGELO— Angelo Furn. Co SAN ANTONIO—Household Furni- ture Company G. A. Stowers Furniture Company WICHITA FALLS — W. A. Freear Furniture Company UTAH OGDEN Rovte Furniture Co., Inc. SALT LAKE CITY—Auerbach Co VERMONT BURLINGTON — The W. G. Rey nolds Company RUTLAND—Cahee ing Company VIRGINIA PEISTOL- Boggs- Rice Co., Inc LYNCHBURG — Schewel Furniture Company, In PORTSMOU rH Cc ompany, RIC HMOXD— “Chas a Miller & Rhoads, Sydnor & Hundley, ie WASHINGTON SEATTL = Frederick & Nelson SPOKANE — The Crescent Store Tull & Gibbs, Inc TACOMA—Wm. L WEST VIRGINIA BLUEFIELD — Bluefield Furn Co. CHARLESTON—The H. O. Baker Company HUNTING — = ture Compan House Furnish- J. S. Crawford Jurgens Son Davis Sons Co. Dickinson Furni PARKERSBU RG Patton & Neal Company, Inc. WISCONSIN APPLETON — - irc caael Furni- KE NOSHAS Mica Perahare ra o LA CROSSE — Tillman Bros MADISON-~— c. Frautschi & Sons A. Leath & Co MARINETTE—Lauerman Bros. Co. MIL IK Hartman Furniture & Carpet Co. nee Imann-Esser ss & co. Inc. = KC SH — Geo. J. Smith Co RTAG E Geo. Murison & Sons go RACINE “Porter Furniture Co SHEBOYGAN —H. C. Prange Co. SUPERIOR— May Furniture Co Popkin Furniture Company WATERTOWN —F. G. Keck & Co. WAUKESHA— K. Randle & Son WAUSAU —E Radandt Furn. Co. WISCONSIN RAPIDS—Johnson & Hill Company WYOMING c ee, Percy Smith Mercan- tile Compa LARAMIE ~Loremie Furniture Co. CANADA MONTREAL— The T Eaton C o., Ltd. Henry Morgan & Cc i E — The ‘Retail TORONTO The T. Eaton Co., Ltd VANCOUVER-— David Spencer Ltd. WINNIPEG— The T. Eaton Co., Ltd. imite Gibbard Berkey & Gay Furnitur BERKEY & GAY FURNITURE COMPANY, GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN * Founded in 1853 * NEW YORK WHOLESALE SHOWROOM: 115 W. 40TH STREET

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(Continued from Page 116) Tony and Joe and Bud and Mariana. Old Fred Willer had told Steve that his cham- bermaid had heard Tony and Joe a-wrangling about something and seen Joe slap Tony’s face before they got out of range of the keyhole, and she thought Joe must have had a gun and told Tony to git. Anyway, Tony nearly knocked her over as he came out. They all had that gun idee and got it settled there was a killing on the schedule sure pop. I knew better, but I had half a notion to go over to the Gillespie and see Tony. Then I thought better of it, and when Steve closed up I went home to bed instead of hanging around Frush’s and the Eagle Bird in the hopes of witnessing the slaughter like the rest of the crowd. When I started out to my daily toil the next morning all Nature seemed glad, as the fellow says. The sun was a-shining bright, the wind was a-blowing soft and there wasn’t no doubt but what the hills back of town was turning green, for all the snow patches on the north side of the gul- lies. As I struck the sidewalk a meadow lark lit on a fence post in front of Hay- den’s and let out a whistle and a warble that was my sentiments exactly. I felt all of a sudden that I’d be derned glad to get away from all this town luxury and indoors, and out on the boundless prairie once more on the hurricane deck of a bronco. I looked across the street to the livery and there was Ben Parloa a-making signs There was a small black bag on top of it now and the barber had his hand on the opposite corner. Another man reached for it, reached for it with a hand that held something soft and soggy between thumb and forefinger. Together they kicked and paddled with their free hands. Slowly the listing bulk of the ship drew away from them. “Faster now, if you please!”” They re- doubled their efforts, pushing the grating before them in short, splashing jerks. There were shouts all about them, shouts and calls and screamings. A lifeboat oar swept over their heads once and splashed water in their faces. They were gasping with the effort, but still they paddled and kicked in earnest silence—pushing the grating with its black bag ever farther away. The man in the tail coat looked back presently. The liner was nose down with her foe’sle head awash and a frightful list to port. He wondered why she didn’t topple over and break with a crash. “Come, sir. If you please, sir!” He redoubled his kicking and paddling. There were many lifeboats about them, drifting with their oars up as if they were waiting for something. A voice was bel- lowing through a megaphone. He could hear a woman screaming and sobbing. Life rafts floated between the boats, black with clinging humanity. The man in the tail coat looked back- ward at the dying ship. There was a straight jet of steam and smoke standing up like an egret from her forward funnel. It sputtered fiercely and broke off from the funnel to hang in a spreading pall above. She was well down by the head. As he watched her, she started to slip forward quickly. Three dull crashes echoed across the waters. “Damn it,” said Jordan. “An’ we just had her compression pipes fixed! Look! I’m a son of a gun ——” He held up the soaked, pulpy mass that he still grasped between his thumb and ferefinger, “If I ain’t still holding on to my sandwich!’’ He hurled it from him. It lit in the water with a soggy splash. Another dull crash rippled across the waters. ‘‘Whoa, baby,” said Jordan. ‘‘That’s Number Seven bulkhead. It won’t be long now.” The liner rolled slowly, lazily as a man turns over in bed on a warmish spring THE SATURDAY with both hands for me to come over, and as I come he made more signs, meaning I was to keep my mouth shut. Then he starts back into the barn on tiptoe, a-beckoning me to follow, and jerks his thumb at Tony’s buckskin and Joe’s roan and an old white mare with a packsaddle, that was tied to the two rings in the middle of the barn. Finally he points up above to the haymow and storage room. He didn’t need to point, because I'd have looked up anyway when I heard Joe Simpson’s voice a-cursing and damning up hill and down dale. I made out he wasn’t referring to nobody special, but to the fe- male sex in general. There was thumping and tramping sounds mixed up with this here language and then there come an- other voice which was Tony Beck’s. “We don’t want to forget the fry pan, Joe. Better put it in right now. . . . Well, I feel the same way, myself. ‘We'll be good friends,’ she says. ‘Good friends, nothing!’ says I. ‘I had a good friend oncet and a couple of hours ago he slapped my face account of you. The way I size you up, you ain’t good enough to be a slight acquaintance,’ I says. Now give me a couple of cans of them tomats.”’ “Think of me a-slapping you, Tony!” “T ain’t a-going to, ever. Got a plenty better things than that to think of.” One of them begun to whistle Dixie. “*** At’s the land ’at I was bawn in, early of a frosty mawnin’.’ But think of Mariana a-double-crossing us thataway. Tony, I’d EVENING POST have gambled my life on her. . . . Want this here sack of salt?” “They’re all alike. We had a narrow es- cape, Joe, old socks, and it sure ought to be a warning to us. Now give me the end of that tarp and pass the line under.” Ben nudged me. ‘They come in an hour ago with their arms over each other's shoulders,” he said. ‘‘ Then they went over to the store and got their grub. Packing and lighting out.” In another minute the pack was dragged to the head of the stair. Tony hollered, “Below there, Ben!” andit comea-tumbling down and Joe and Tony come down after it. As soon as he seen me Joe come up and shook hands. “Just the fellow we wanted to see,”’ he says. ‘‘We was just a-going over to see you and ask you to tell Turner we was sorry we couldn’t work for him this season. But there’s more punchers than there is jobs, or we'd have stayed.” “We sure would,” says Tony. “Help me up with this pack, Ben.” “I told Carlos Green and Al Hawkins to see him,” says Joe. “‘Two or three others, but Carlos and Al is sure extra good.” “None better,”’ says Tony, a-throwing a line over the pack. Joe helped him make the hitch and I stood a-watching them. I told ’em I'd let Turner know, and then I asked them where they was a-going. “Drifting south,” says Joe. “ Away down south in Dixie,”’ says Tony, and began to whistle it mighty cheerful. Then he broke off. “All set, Joe.” He AA GENTLEMAN OF BLADES (Continued from Page 7) morning. The dead funnels swept around te starboard. Water foamed and folded it- self mightily over the promenade rail. There was a tremendous cataclysmic roar and a smashing splintering chorus. A siren screeched in their ears. The man in the tail coat raised his head. The thin gray snout of a destroyer raced toward them, swept around broadside and stopped not a thousand yards away. He looked back. The stern of the liner was high in the air with her motionless screws pointed to the skies. Slowly they sank toward the débris-cluttered water. “By gum,” said Jordan, ‘‘she needed scrapin’ and paintin’ badly! No wonder we couldn’t get her full fourteen out of her!’’ “Nossir!” said the barber. “It weren’t no submarine! I knowed it al! the time. It weren’t nothink but a bloomin’ mine! I says so the minit I heard it go off. I knowed it, I did! Look at them destroyers. Four of ’em an’ two more over there to port. If ’twere a submarine they'd be out lookin’ for ’er.- Beggin’ pardon, sir. We'd ought to pull over to 246 if you’ve a mind to go aboard. They’re tykin’ ’em off the life rafts now. You can sorter tell when hit’s a-goin’ to be a torpedo. You gets a feelin’ just a minit before. It’s sorter hin- stinctive like, an’ you bryces yourself for it.” Jordan looked at the barber. “Yeah?” he said. ‘You git the feelin’ and you walk slowly to your cabin and dress yourself in warm clothing and comb your hair an’ write a letter to your wife tell- ing her you'll be late for dinner an’ then you have a full meal and take a book an’ go up to a lifeboat and get comfortable and start readin’, an’ when she hits you’re all ready to go off!” “‘Nossir,”’ said the barber thoughtfully. “You hain’t got time fer orl that. You con- centrate before’and on wot you want to tyke, an’ when you git the feelin’ you grabs it an’ runs fer a gratin’. "Tain’t no use goin’ fer the boats, sir.”’ “Thanks,” said Jordan. ‘I'll remember that. This is only the fourth time I’ve been dumped out of m’ happy home before breakfast, barber—and I never yet had time to grab my accordion.” The barber shook his head. “‘ That’s be- cause you don’t never concentrate on hit.” “Yeah? Well, shut up!” A voice bellowed at them from the rail of the nearest destroyer. “Stand by, you people in the water! Life rafts and gratings first. Paddle in to us, well for’ard. Stand off, boats: You'll be taken care of directly.” Jordan and the barber and the man in the tail coat started to paddle and tread water, pushing the raft with its small black bag before them. They came in presently to the low gray side of the destroyer and reached for the ropes and ladders. Jordan went up first and stood shaking himself like an angry terrier that has been ducked. The man in the tail coat followed him. Someone laughed. The man grinned. “Formal occasion,” he said. The officer nodded. “I saw one woman with a toothbrush,” he said, “and a little bald-headed chap had a hot-water bottle and an opera hat. Lucky you were so close in when she struck.” Jordan turned on them sadly. ‘An’ we just had the compression pipes overhauled and cleaned.” The barber was coming up over the side with his black bag grasped firmly in his hand. He looked about him and shrugged. “I’m the barber, sir,” he said to the officer. ‘‘ Do you fink the barber ‘ere would let me bunk in wiv him?” “No barber aboard.” “Well, any plyce then,” said the barber. “Any little cubicle wiv a chair’ll do. My passengers will be comin’ haboard soon, an’ I ought to git ready to tyke care of ’em, I ought. I always does that, sir, if you please. They sorter expects it now, they does. I mind on the Birkencliff when we gets haboard o’ the Gleason, I was ready fer my own passengers in ‘arf an hour an’ I was shyvin’ 'em regular when the Gleason gits it, sir.” The officer stared at him. “That’s what I call morale,” he said. “See the bo’sun an’ tell him Mr. Chase sent you.” “Yessir. Thank you, sir.” An hour later the barber had set up shop in a tiny paint locker below decks and well aft. “’Tain’t much, sir,”’ he said to the man in the tail coat, “and ‘tain’t quite ten o’clock yet, but 't will do if you’ve a mind to git yourself tidied up a bit.” 121 took the white’s lead rope and climbed his buckskin. “So long, Ben. So long, Stegg Happy days and good luck! We get to be pushing on.”” He reached down and shook hands and Joe done likewise. “Be good,” says Joe. “We'll write you when we get there. So long!” They turned and clattered out of the barn into the sunshine and rode down the street, waving to some who waved to them but not stopping for no one. Ben and me watched ’em out of sight and that’s the last we ever seen of the Texas Twins.” “Ever hear of them?” Tip Yoakum in- quired. “I'd be cur’ous to know if they had good sense enough te take that warning to heart. Most don’t.” “Never heard a word from them,” re- plied Mr. Stegg, “but somehow I think that maybe they did. I got a picture of them two-—getting along in years now a-setting in the shade of a live oak in front of a ‘dobe house near Laredo—if it was Laredo—and smoking and spitting and gassing the happy hours away. But some- how there ain’t no women in that picture, unless maybe an old wrinkled Mexican woman a-stringing red peppers outside the kitchen door. But no white dresses and no hammocks—and no trouble. Be that as it may, though, knowing Joe and Tony learned me that oncet in a while there is such a thing as two men being real, sure- enough, honest-to-gocdness friends what is friends.” The man looked at his half-dried golf knickers, from the straps of which his pa- jama legs dangled down the rest of the way to his bare feet. He pulled his tail coat about him and grinned. “Well,” he said, “I couldn't look any worse and I suppose a shave would make me look a bit less of a pirate.”’ “Yessir. Shyve an’ a comb up?” The man squinted into the paint locker as the barber reached a hand to the deck above and switched on the extension bulb he had rigged up inside. There was a tomato crate with a cushion on top and a cloth spread over it. There was a mirror on the wall-—a mirror about a foot square, hanging from a bolthead and rattling gently with the vibration of the destroyer’s engines. On ashelf at the back, held in place by a bit of wire that ran along in front of them, was a bottle of the Duke of Bordane’s extra special hair tonic, three shaving mugs and a pebbled blue bottle of after-shave lotion. From another bolthead, a case of razors and scissors and combs hung suspended ready for use, with the razor strop dangling below them. And hanging from a string were a half dozen clean but very wrinkled towels. The man stared at the equipment. “Say,” he said. “‘Where’d all that come from?” “T brung hit,” said the barber. “Always packs m’ bag every night in cyse of hemer- gency, as you might sye, sir. Now then, if you please. "Twon’t be much, but ‘arf a shyve’s better than whiskers, sir, I always say. Jest set down, now.”’ He stirred the lather briskly in his cup. “But see here,”’ said the man. ‘“‘It isn't natural. You can pick up barber’s supplies anywhere. Why don’t you bring your own personal things instead of all this stuff?"’ The barber looked at him for a moment in aggrieved silence and stopped stirring the lather. For one awful moment the man on the tomato crate thought he was going to burst into tears. Then slowly the barber recovered and commenced stirring the lather again. “T tykes a great pride in my perfession, sir, as you might sye, sir. I tykes a deal o’ pride. They do sye as ’ow barbers used to be the only doctors as they had in hancient times. Sir Peter Montford, 'e told me that, Continued on Page 125)

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June 11,1927 122 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘Wherever there are Enjoy Health and Cleanliness, \ New Summer Comfort \ ~ HE fly is the filthiest insect known. Words cannot por- tray the sickening uncleanliness. Scientists say thou- sands of deadly bacteria swarm in the putrescent ooze of a fly’s spongy foot. These germs are rubbed off or deposited on food. Government scientists explain these are dropped in che excreta or regurgitations. Flies taint everything they touch. They sow the germs of disease on the very delicacies one likes to eat. Penetrating a child’s tender skin, the bite is bitterly pain- ful. And with the germ of fever firing their blood, little bodies writhe in the burning torture of flaming torment. The end—sometimes is tragic, even to adults. Whoie epidemics have been traced to ravages of flies and mosquitoes. They transmit typhoid fever, blood poisoning, dysentery, infantile paralysis. Scores of diseases are trans- planted by flies. They cause hundreds of thousands of sick- nesses. Medical officers estimate flies directly cause forty thousand deaths each year in the United States. Safety is only possible when these insects are killed. Fiy-T0x the gar- bage. That kills tiny insects and the larvae —midges, etc. Health and cleanliness demand that there be no flies in the house. Food cannot always be kept covered or hidden away. Homes must be fresh and clean—free from insect taint. Flies must be killed. Health authorities advocate the use of Fly-Tox. It is a scien- tific insecticide. Fly-Tox kills flies. It is safe, dependable, sure. It is harmless to humans and animals. Yet contact with its cleanly, stainless spray is sure death to those unclean household insects. You cannot realize what summer comfort can be until you have used Fly-Tox. Get rid of the flies and mosquitoes. Protect yourself and family. Enjoy the golden summer as you never did before. Health and cleanliness pervade the home where Fly-Tox is used. It costs little. You can buy it everywhere. HALF PINT 50c - PINT 75c - QUART $1.25 - GALLON $4.00 Gallons in glass jugs are especially suitable for hotels, restaurants, summer camps, institutions The Rex Companies: The Toledo Rex Spray Company, Toledo, Ohio; The Rex Company, Kansas City, Mo.; The Rex Sales Company, Kansas City, Mo.; Canada Rex Spray Company, Ltd., Brighton, Ont.; California Rex Spray Company, Benicia, Calif., and Wenatchee Rex Spray Company, Wenatchee, Wash. FLY-TOX KILLS FLIES, MOSQUITOES, MOTHS, ANTS, ROACHES, FLEAS, ETC. a

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 123 Fltes. + -use Fy-10N the kitchen. Kill all unclean insects. Enjoy priceless cleanliness. { gr | FLY-TOX is the scientific insecticide developed at Mellon Institute of Industrial Research by Rex Fellowship

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124 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 PF cx The isiiteidual ore’s Market is wider » » » and widening! EW of the country’s progressive merchants could exist today F if their business stopped at the city limits. Good roads, the automobile, the telephone, and, most important of all, a desire on the part of the farm family for the latest and best things in all phases of life, have brought the farm market to town. Manufacturers in ever increasing numbers are realizing the truth of the slogan—‘They live in the country, but they shop in town.” And their efforts to direct this farm-to-town-shop- ping-market to their merchandise are directly reflected in the advertising pages of The Country Gentleman. *OUNMTY (jentleman THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA They Live in the Country, NET PAID CIRCULATION August, 1925 . . 804,000 Copies but they Shop in Town April, 1927. . . 1,480,000 Copies

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(Continued from Page 121) when I was shyvin’ ’im on the Georgic—’e always rides wiv the old line—him as is the great surgeon. ’E says as ’ow orl medical men is descendants from hold-time barbers, an’ ’e tells me the two perfessions is very closely hailied. But I had me pride in me work before that, hi did—an’ these things hain’t ord’nary barber’s supplies at all, they hain’t!” “T’m awfully sorry,” said the man. “No need,” said the barber. ‘‘I hain’t a great ’and fer talkin’ about my hexperi- ences, I hain’t—nor fer blowin’ off habout m’self. But tyke this here shyvin’ cup, sir. *Tain’t much t’ look at but seein’ as you an’ me’ve been through this show together, I'll tell you about hit. ’Tweren’t much o’ a show—just a mine—not like a regular tor- pedoin’, but a sinkin’ 0’ any kind do make people sorter mytey like, beggin’ yer par- don. This cup were give to me by Albert Wiggins, sir!’ “Indeed, " said the man. He took the cup in his hands. “Not Albert Wiggins?” “The syme, sir. Him as calls hisself All- bare now, an’ don’t do nothink but fix up wimmin’s hair in New York.” “You don’t say!” “Yessir, Albert an’ me was pals before he got fancy like, an’ he give me this fer a keepsyke after he won the Bloomsbury Barbers’ Institoot Medal fer ———’’ “e No!” “Yessir. An’ this ryzor, sir. Looks ord’nary enough, but hit’s the one I shyved the Juke o’ Bordane wiv. I don’t use a ryzor no more after shyvin’ someone im- portant—royalty an’ them.” He half drew the razor from its case to let the man see it. “Who else have you shaved?” The barber lathered the man’s face and ran his razor tentatively across the heel of his hand. “Well, sir, thirty-one year is a long time an’ I guess sooner or later they all comes to me. There’s one thing I never talks about to no one though, except on a special hoccasion like this, as yer might sye. I could lose all them things I’ve saved an’ not worry much, if I could only keep one THE SATURDAY thing.”” His voice wavered a bit and for a moment he shaved furiously and deftly. He dipped a towel in the bucket of water and slicked off the man’s face. “And what’s that?” “Well, sir, it’s—it’s somefing I prize wery highly, sir, and I carn’t talk about it much. YouseeI—I brokeit gettin’ haboard the Gleason after the Birkencliff were done in. I only got the pieces left, sir.” He parted the man’s hair and combed it back smoothly. “There y’ are, sir. That'll hold yer till we make Cardiff, sir. We'll be in by tea- time.” “But the pieces—pieces of what? You haven’t told me.” The barber looked at him steadily, then slowly he reached inside his jumper and pulled out a pouch of oiled silk. He slipped the string off and held it in his hand. “I never hopens it no more,” he said. “But y’ can feel ’em.”’ The man touched the pouch with his fingers. “But what is it?” “Them’s the pieces.” “Of what?” “Of the shyvin’ mug, sir.” “But you didn’t tell me.” “The shyvin’ mug, sir, as I used in shyvin’ ’im, sir!” The barber’s voice sank to a reverent whisper. “Him as was king! I done it before, though, when ’e was Prince o’ Wyles. Hedward, sir. God save ’im!”’ The man said nothing as the barber put the pouch back inside his jumper and ad- justed the string about his neck. ““An’ please, sir—no money. Not be- cause folks gen’rally hasn’t any wiv ’em after a sinkin’, but because I never tykes it exceptin’ on me own ship. Lord Nelson, ’e says, ‘Hengland expects ev’ry man to do ‘is juty,’ sir. Hit’s a matter of principle wiv me, sir.” The barber shook his head. Then sud- denly he brightened. “Well, sir, if yer sees anyone as wants shyvin’, tell ’em I’m ready fer ’em.” EVENING POST es oa ees, See PELL oS Modern Business Creed has a New PEE: a Sa. “An Ediphone at a man's desk tells the world he val Stime.> Okinon Tete OTRE oe Ce Ya le) gh SARS ee Dont Wait - Dictate HAT is the new creed which has fully proved its value to modern business. When your mind is working fastest and your thoughts are clearest, that is often the very time your secretary is not available. Give your ideas a chance! Dictate whenever Talk business by mail as spon at conversational speed urge—presents itself. taneously and directly as over the telephone. And waiting kills constructive efort quick as thought, the need—or the Have an Ediphone always at your desk, listening for ideas from . d , the tip of your tongue. Free yourself of the distractions and handicaps of the conventional system by which everything you dictate must be “twice written” taken down in a notebook before it can be typed. Find out how quickly the Ediphone will open up the flow of business in your office, and do away with cor respondence delays. Mail the coupon for complete data or telephone “The Ediphone,” your city. Thomas A. Edison, Inc. WORLD-WIDE SERVICE LABORATORY LONDON OFFICE, 164 Wardour St AND GENERAL OFPICES, Orange, N. J London, W. 1. Ediphone Thos.A. Edisons New Dictating Machine | Riss cetera corer; pe ee 2 booklets, “‘Getting Act Name_ THOMAS A. EDISON, Inc., Ediphone Division Please send me, free and without obligation : “ 7 escrit equipment awarded the Grand Prize at and “‘Buyer’s Guid the Ses ( , Orange, N.J O-pag >! _ y y oe. RAWN BY R. B, FULLER He: ‘‘ Darling, it Would be Glorious to Sail Through Life Together Like This’’ =>.) PT vara ts

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EVENING POST June 11,1927 THE MAN MERRIWELL > (Continued from Page 13) gobbled them up by the million, boosting sales beyond Beadle’s wildest dreams. By the time the war came to an end the experi- | ment was an assured success. In 1866 Rob- ert Adams died, and Beadle took his two brothers, David Adams and William Adams, into partnership, the firm becom- ing Beadle & Adams, under which name it was to do business for thirty years. Beadle was made. It was his turn to ask, “‘ Who’s loony now?” To this flourishing concern Willie Patten submitted his first dime novels. They were, at the most charitable estimate, pretty bad: Clear-Grit Cal, the Never-Say-Die De- tective; Fire-Eye, the Thugs’ Terror; | Wild Vulcan, the Lone Ranger Rider, and | so on. But they were published. Money began to pour in—or at least so it seemed in Corinna. Bill Patten’s eyes bulged | many a time at the $250 checks which his | queer fish of a son received for one of these | tales; down at the village store they shook | their heads and muttered, for all this smacked of black magic. So, after four years of it, when he was just turned twenty-one, Willie Patten de- cided it was time for him to go to New York. He had a little money now; he had served his apprenticeship as a writer; he | had even, on the money received from the sale of The Corinna Owl, a weekly news- paper that he had started, taken a trip West and viewed at first hand the scene of the epic tales he had been writing. Within a short time he had wound up all his affairs and was ready to start. All his affairs? Not quite. There was a little affair of honor, one that involved the | light but genuine hair that now grew on his face, and the $2500 he had made in the past year as compared with a certain $1800. When he got off the train at Biddeford he headed straight for the mill. ‘‘Where’s Gooch?” he demanded of the first millhand | he met. “Hey, Willie!” exclaimed his former “‘Boy, I didn’t hardly know you at first. You’re a sight huskier than you was. Gooch? Ain’t you heared? Gooch is dead.” Ten Years After Col. Prentiss Ingraham limped fretfully around his small room in Fifty-eighth Street and glared belligerently at Patten, who had buckled up his long legs on a trunk. “No, suh!”’ he roared, while his small frame quivered with indignation. ‘The West’n story nev’ will be dead. So long as the American people have one drop of red blood left in their veins, I tell you they’re goin’ to read West’n stories!”’ “‘Custer’s been dead pretty near twenty years,” said Patten. “Buffalo Bill ain’t dead!”’ the colonel shot back with heat that was pardonable, since, through the medium of the dime novel, he was Buffalo Bill’s official biog- rapher. “If you think he is,” he went on, “go down to Philadelphia, where he’s showin’ now, and watch him shoot. He can hold up his end of it, even with that little Oakley gal.” “They say she’s pretty,” said Patten, who had an eye to such things. as a picture,” said the colonel, who also had an eye to such things, and stroked his flowing silky mustache. But in a moment he resumed fiercely: ‘And while you're down there, just count the people that come to see that Wild West show and see if Buffalo Bill is dead yet. And if you'll pa’don a little pride of auth’- ship, I'd just like to call to yo’ ’tention that my last stories about Buffalo Bill are sellin’ bigger than ever. No, suh, Buffalo Bill’s not dead, and neither is the West’n story.” Patten listened with half an ear. He was an older Patten now, with ten years in the literary trenches behind him, several of them devoted almost exclusively to this same kind of Western story that he was now beginning to have his doubts about. They had been glorious years in all truth. He had come down to a New York that was probably gaudier than any New York before or since. It was a New York as yet innocent of Subways, wherein you trav- eled uptown and downtown on elevated roads that still used steam engines, and cross town on cars still drawn by horses. Brooklyn Bridge was then one of the won- ders of the modern world, and Steve Brodie had just settled the big argument by jumping off it and living to tell the story. The theatrical district still lay between Fourteenth and Twenty-third Streets; grand opera was given in the Academy of Music on Fourteenth, hard by Tony Pastor’s Theater and Huber’s Museum; Maggie Cline was just then singing Throw Him Down, McCluskey! John L. Sullivan still reigned supreme, holding court nightly at one or the other of his three saloons. Irish gangs still ravaged the Bowery, where beer gardens, open of front so you could see the drinkers and the dancing girls within, lined most of the way. The Pulitzer Build- ing was still the tallest building in the United States, and visitors to New York ascended in its dome of “solid gold” to re- fresh themselves with a bird’s-eye view of the city. The Hoffman House still at- tracted many customers with its celebrated oil paintings of the female nude. It was a wide-open town, with everybody having a roaring good time. Portrait of a Modest Man Patten loved it. Especially he loved the humbuggery of it. This crowd loved to be fooled and it good-naturedly didn’t give a hoot how often it was fooled, so it was fooled by a good show. He loved the hum- bugs who provided the literary show, who hashed up preposterous tales about Indians chasing pioneers over the plains and being in turn routed by a thundering herd of buf- faloes. They were a picturesque crew, who loved the West because it was the big show, and who were as much a part of it as the advance press agent is part of a circus— fellows like Joseph E. Badger, whose master creation was Mustang Sam. . “You ax who I be? I’m Mustang Sam, the high muck-a-muck of E Pluribus Unum... . I kin yell louder, run furder, ride faster, shoot straighter, jump higher, tell bigger lies, eat more poor bull, and jump outside o’ more chain lightnin’ than any two-legged critter as was ever puffed.”’ Oll Coomes, who lived in Iowa, and was one of the few dime-novel writers canny enough to invest his money profitably; Edward L. Wheeler, who called everybody pard and was sus- pected of never having been farther West than West Philadelphia; Harlan P. Halsey, who wrote the delectable detective stories signed Old Sleuth; John R. Coryell, who originated the Nick Carter stories; Buck- skin Sam, properly known as Sam S. Hall, who occasionally showed his virile Western manhood by going on a shooting rampage at his home in Wilmington, Delaware. And Patten laughed as loud as any at the monkeyshine staged daily by Buffalo Bill and Ned Buntline, his first official biographer, known in private life as Col. E. Z. C. Judson. That was when they were first trying to put over Buffalo Bill as a character in dime-novel fiction. Six or eight times a day, both Cody and Judson, in full Western regimentals, would come galloping down Broadway and dismount at the office of the publisher in Rose Street. Ostensibly they were occupied with busi- ness of the very first importance; actually they were occupied with nothing more important than to provide a show for the crowd that always awaited them, and in- cidentally to make a little extra publicity for the Buffalo Bill stories. Most of all, Patten loved this same Col- onel Ingraham who was now pacing the (Continued on Page 129)

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Where the mouth glands are that slow up even in childhood The numbers show where the tiny mouth glands are located, three on each side of yourmouth. From our earliest years, soft foods are slowing them for lack of exercise in hard chewing. Yet when we chew vigorously they are 20 times more active in pre- venting decay. Pebeco contains the special ingredient that daily renews the youthful action of the mouth glands. Everyone THE SATURDAY EVENING POST loves ~ piMess oR) Always sure of your charm You are so — and happy when you know your smiles are beautiful to others. All day long you are confident and gay. “Pebeco leaves your mouth feeling so cool and fresh,” say enthusiastic users. the gay and laughing MOUTH of YOUTH Cprorit LOOK AGAIN when they glimpse a lovely smile or heara merry laugh that confidently reveals fine teeth. Teeth are gleaming white, gums healthy, when the six tiny mouth glands are active. They are the real guardians of the mouth. Day and night they should be producing the natural fluids that neu- tralize food acids and keep the whole mouth healthy. But = of us 5 have kept the Mouth of Youth. . The soft foods we eat require so little chewing that the mouth glands are not exercised enough. Even before our teens, we begin to lose the protection of these PEBECO keeps the Mouth Glands young ° ” guardians of the teeth. And before we realize it decay begins. That is why Pebeco was perfected as the formula which invigorates the mouth glands as well as polishes the teeth beautifully. Pebeco’s main ingredient is an im- portant, slightly salty substance that re- stores the youthful vigor of the mouth glands. Its keen sharp tang summons the fluids which keep your mouth whole- some, young, lovely when you smile. Made by Pebeco, Inc., a division of Lehn & Fink Products Company. Sole distributors, Lehn & Fink, Inc., Bloomfield, N. J. Distributed in Canada by Lehn & Fink (Canada) Lithited. At the pod Hs clean tang of Pebeco the mouth glands waken. Daily use keeps the whole mouth wholesome and sweet. Free Offer: Send coupon today fors generous tube Lehn & Fink, Inc., Dope. L-71, "Bloomfield, B N. J. J. Tooth Paste. PRINT PLAINLY IN PENCII Name Street City State Send me free your new large-size sample tube of Pebeco

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(Continued from Page 126) floor in such wild excitement at the very suggestion that the Western story might be on its last legs. The colonel had lived such a life that when he recounted his most prosaic experiences he was thought to be making up chapters for his next story. He had fought in the Civil War on the side of the Confederacy; he had soldiered in Aus- tria, in Crete, in Africa, in Cuba, and with Juarez in Mexico. He had shot buffaloes with Buffalo Bill, to help fulfill the cele- brated contract with the Kansas Pacific Railroad, under the terms of which Cody delivered the carcasses of more than 5000 buffaloes to be served as meat in the con- struction camps and thereby earned his highly valuable moniker. When Cody and Buntline had a disagreement, the colonel became Cody’s biographer. And so well did he do his job that Buffalo Bill became such a character as not even Cody had dreamed was possible; There is many a schoolboy, even now, who is astonished to learn, in sixth-grade history, that this mag- nifico of the colonel’s creation actually lived and breathed. Add to all this the fact that the colonel was a gentleman of the old South, and could cuss in rimed hexameter verse, and he stands out as a most colorful writing man. Opportunity Knocks Now, however, Patten was beginning to be worried about the Western story. This was not entirely a matter of art. It was more a question of bread and butter. Since the night when he had come back home from the Biddeford mill, he had written stories for his living, and it was something to be concerned about that the stories he had been writing were beginning to look bleary and frayed around the edges. Where- fore he lent a very dubious ear to the colonel’s eulogy of Buffalo Bill. “It’s just like what they’re saying about that contraption that this fool Haynes is monkeying around with,” the colonel was saying. ‘Some of them say it’s going to put the horse out of business. Well, if Haynes was to hook a whistle on his machine, maybe it might do for a peanut roaster. Or if he was to put some bars around it, maybe it might do for a cage for that talk- ing dog they’ve got over at Worth’s Mu- seum. But put the horse out of business? Come over here, Gil—just look at them going out to the pa’k. Don’t you just love to see ’em step? Gil, there’s some things that won’t never be put out of business. One of them is the horse and the other is the West’n story—that gave the horse his proper place in literature, if I do say so myself.”” Shortly afterward Patten joined his fam- ily at Camden, Maine, where they had moved from Corinna, more than ever con- vinced that he had to find a new field if he was to continue to make his living by his facile pen. He had hardly landed there when he received a letter from O. G. Smith, president of Street & Smith, in regard to a new series of stories. By this time—1895 Street & Smith had long since taken the leadership of the dime-novel field away from Beadle & Adams. The firm had been started in 1855, several years before Beadle went into business, but had not published dime novels until after Beadle had demon- strated that the thing could be done. Then gradually it had pulled ahead, until by now it was the leading publisher in the field. No doubt the death of Beadle, in 1894, had had much to do with the dwindling pros- perity of the firm. Mr. Smith wanted to know if Patten would be interested in doing a new series of stories for boys. Patten wrote for more de- tails and Mr. Smith replied as follows: December 16, 1895. GILBERT PATTEN, Esq., CAMDEN, MAINE. Dear Sir: Replying to your favor of Decem- ber 13, at hand today, we beg to state that the material of which we wrote you in our last letter is intended for a library which we pur- pose issuing every week; something in the line of the Jack Harkaway stories, Gay Dashleigh THE SATURDAY series which we are running in Good News and the Island School Series, all of which are ex- pressed to you under separate cover, the idea being to issue a library containing a series of stories covering this class of incident, in all of which will appear one prominent character sur- rounded by suitable satellites. It would be an advantage to the series to have introduced the Dutchman, the Negro, the Irishman, and any other dialect that you are familiar with. From what we know of your work, we believe you can give us what we require, and would be pleased to have you write us one of these stories at once. Upon receipt of it, if satisfactory, we will be prepared to make a contract with you to cover twenty thousand words weekly for this library and a sufficient number of Good News stories to keep them running in the columns of Good News, if you believe you can turn out this amount of work. It is important that the main character in the series should have a catchy name, such as Dick Lightheart, Jack Harkaway, Gay Dashleigh, Don Kirk {a character in two previous stories by Patten] as upon this name will depend the title for the library. The essential idea of this series is to interest young readers in the career of a young man ata boarding school, preferably a military or a naval academy. The stories should differ from the Jack Harkaways in being American and thoroughly up to date. Our idea is to issue, say, twelve stories, each complete in itself, but like the links in a chain, all dealing with life at the academy. By this time the readers will have ‘become sufficiently well acquainted with the hero, and the author will also no doubt have exhausted most of the pranks and esca- pades that might naturally occur. After the first twelve numbers, the hero is obliged to leave the academy, or takes it upon himself to leave. It is essential that he should come into a considerable amount of money at this period. When he leaves the academy he takes with him one of the professor's servants, achum. In fact any of the characters you have introduced and made prominent in the story. A little love element would also not be amiss, though this is not particularly important. When the hero is once projected on his travels there is an infinite variety of incident to choose from. In the Island School Series, published by one of our London connections, you will find scenes of foreign travel, with color. This ma- terial you are at liberty to use freely, with our hero as the central character, of course, and up- to-date dialogue. After we run through twenty or thirty num- bers of this, we would bring the hero back and have him go to college—say, Yale University; thence we could take him on his travels again to the South Seas or anywhere. If you can do the opening stories of school life, you will be able to do them all, as we shall assist you in the matter of local color for the stories of travel. This letter will, of course, be held as confi- dential. After you have fully examined the Island School material, kindly return to us. Yours truly, Patten hadn’t got half through this be- fore he knew that this was what he had been looking for. He would get away from the absurdities of Western fiction and give the boys something they could believe in. Also, he would give them a hero they could really admire. And he would try to build the stories on character rather than on inci- dent, and in that way make them live. Preparedness in a Name Frank Merriwell was agreed upon as the name of the hero, this name suggesting the kind of boy Patten had in mind. And lest the import of the name be lost on the youth- ful readers, Patten was careful to describe Frank on Page 1 of the first story, thus; ‘His face was frank, open and winning, but the merry light that usually dwelt in his eyes was now banished by a look of scorn,” and so on. In order that the series could be continued by others if Patten fell ill or got tired of the job, or something of the sort, it was neces- sary that he have a nom de plume. Burt L. Standish was agreed upon for this, as being a good, substantial American alias. The pay was to be the princely sum of fifty dollars a week. Finally Patten was ready to write the first story, to be called Frank Merriwell; or, First Days at Fardale. As he hitched up to his typewriter he snickered to himself, for there popped into his head a story that was going the rounds about the colonel. It seems that somebody had asked the colonel how he managed to think of plots in such amazing profusion. EVENING POST “‘First,”’ the colonel said, ‘I take a situ- ation, and then I work forward from that.” “Yes, colonel, but what do you mean by a situation?” “Crack! Crack! Crack! Three more redskins bit the dust,”’ elucidated the colo- nel. ‘There you have it. Now go on with your story.” “Better start it off in style,” Patten, and this is what he wrote: thought CHAPTER I FRANK MAKEs A For **Get out!” Thump! A shrill howl of pain. “Stop it! That’s my dog!” “Oh, it is? Then you ought to be kicked too! Take that for your impudence!"’ Cuff! A blow from an open hand sent the boyish owner of a whimpering poodle stagger- ing to the ground, while paper bags of pop corn flew from his basket and scattered their snowy contents around. **That was a cowardly blow!” Fast: Writing Records And so on. As may be imagined, the clarion defy at the end came from Frank; and fitting it was that the first words he ever uttered should quiver with magnificent contempt at the spectacle of a cowardly blow. “Tt was an awful job, and don’t you forget it,” says Patten, looking back at the beginning of the Merriwell experiment. “Twenty thousand words a week! That means more than a million words a year— at the rate of one full-length novel a month. And when you turn out stuff that fast for seventeen years, you're grinding copy. All the Merriwell stories have been written and gathered into books. Two hundred and four of them—count them up and see how many they make. But when I was writing them there were times when I felt like a horse in an old country treadmill. I ground and I ground and I ground, and it seemed as though there never would be an end to it.” For the new series was a success from the start. The first number, published April 18, 1896, sold out completely; within three months the circulation of the Tip-Top Li- brary, with Frank Merriwell as its leading character, had reached 75,000, with new readers, their nickels clutched in their dirty little fists, marching up to the news stands every week. And to satisfy them, Patten settled down to the laborious business of grinding out 20,000 words a week every week in the year. *‘Over a period of years,”’ he goes on, ‘I imagine that comes pretty close to setting arecord. But don’t get the idea that I was a remarkably fast writer. There were plenty of them who could turn it out a lot faster than I could. One time Beadle & Adams needed a serial in a hurry, and Vic- tor locked Edward L. Wheeler in a room with a pile of paper. After two days there was a 30,000-word novel. I don’t say it was a good novel, but anyhow it was a novel “But the colonel beat that. There was some misunderstanding about astory. Vic- tor expected it, but the colonel hadn't writ- ten it, and when Victor wired him, in Washington, it was within two days of pub- lication time. The colonel sat right down and began to write. It almost killed him, but at the end of twenty-four hours he had a 33,000-word story in the mail. “But over a long pull I probably turned out as much as any of the rest, and maybe a little bit more. The first year was the worst, because I hadn't got any system into it. On those first stories I tramped the floor many a night, and there were weeks when I didn’t think I could possibly get a story ready. I used to write a lot of them up in Maine, and if I didn’t make a certain ex- press with my copy, there wouldn’t be any story that week. And more than once I finished the story so late I had to run down to the station and hand the envelope to the man on the mail car; the train would be al- ready in and ready to pull out. “ After a while it came easier. I blocked the stories out thirteen at a time. Why thirteen? Well, there are fifty-two weeks i29 in the year, and when you divide fifty-two by four you get thirteen, not twelve. Then I saved myself a lot of work by learning to dictate to a stenographer. My fingers got sore banging out that much copy on a ma- chine. The dictation scheme accounts for one thing that many people laugh about in the Merriwell stcries—a stilted effect in the style and a touch of artificiality in the dia logue. I guess the charge is true. But you shoot 4000 words a day at a stenographer, and when she transcribes her notes, see how flexible and natural it sounds. Easy style and nice, homely dialogue are possible only when you have a chance to shine up your work. No chance for that doing the Merri- wells. That was rough-and-ready writing, and if you couldn’t do it that way, you couldn't do it at all “Plots? I never had much trouble with plots. No, I wasn’t like the colonel; I didn't start with a situation and work for- ward from that. I built all these stories around a character. If you will read the first Merriwell story you will see what I mean. That is a story about a number of boys, one of them Merriwell, who were candidates for admission to Fardale Acad- emy. One of them, as a result of the braw! at the railroad station which opens the story, takes a dislike to Merriwell and plots to keep him out of the academy. In the course of the feud, Merriwell rescues the beautiful Inza from a mad dog after the other boy had fled; he emerges triumphant from a fist fight and two or three other scrapes that he stumbles into. Super- ficially, that is a story made up of highly improbable incident. Look a little closer and you will see that Frank succeeds be- cause he has certain outstanding traits of character. Even in the end, when he is freed from a cemetery vault into which his enemies had locked him, his rescuer is the same little shaver whom he had befriended a few days before at the railroad station in the scuffle over the dog.”’ Character in a Crucible “All the Merriwell stories were built on the same formula—to test Frank in some crucial way so that certain sides of his nature were thrown into high relief. Yes, one of his qualities, of course, was courage. But they laugh about Frank’s bravery too much. As a matter of fact, he wasn't so brave; he was scared often, and badly scared at that. Much more important was his loyalty—something that boys esteem more than anything else. No matter how hard pressed Frank might be, he never played anybody a dirty trick. Of course, it was my business to see that he was hard pressed in every story. He was always get- ting into jams, so that if he would only turn against his friends he could make a million dollars. Of course he never did it. Another quality was a sense of humor. Another was a sense of justice, a capacity to see the other fellow’s side. And another was a lit tle vague; I can best describe it as decency ‘‘But he had a lot of very human weak nesses teo. One of them was a love for gambling. Frank's battle to overcome this furnished many a chapter in the series, and the boys, I judge, found it just as absorb- ing as a lot of so-called action.” The popular story based on character was a novelty then; the publishers, al- though they had themselves suggested the idea, were a little appalled at the lengths to which Patten carried it. One day while he was at luncheon with O. G. Smith and his brother G. C. Smith, also of the Street & Smith firm, O. G. Smith wanted to know if the stories could not be sped up a little “It seems to me,” he said, “ stories ought to have more action —inci dent, you know, excitement, something go- ing on.”’ Patten, a little surprised, asked where the stories seemed to lag “Well,” said Smith, “last week you had a story that shows what I mean. For two pages Merriwell does nothing but take care of his horse—feeds him, waters him, rests Continued on Page 132 that these

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130 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Cc | i Hn natty is June 11,1927 ‘a " a 1 Ml 3 Walle r ‘Drive the Exceptional Chrysler ''60” LL who drive the Chrysler “60” ac- claim it the finest of the lighter sixes —and have proved their preference by the soaring sales which make the “60” far and away the most popular of all the lighter sixes. They recognize that the 60” offers a unique combination of the most typical Chrysler CHRYSLER features—six-cylinder engine, seven-bearing crankshaft, invar strut pistons, impulse neu- tralizer, manifold heat control, oil filter, air cleaner, full pressure lubrication, four-wheel hydraulic brakes and shock absorbers —all at a price which makes the “60” unmistak- ally the outstanding value and the highest quality car in its field. Riding and driving the ‘60’, people marvel at its snap and dash and vim, giving sixty and more miles an hour with exceptional ease—in fact, a degree of smoothness and riding comfort obviously without parallel for so moderate an investment. We invite you, too, to make your own test of the ex- ceptional Chrysler “60”. MODEL NUMBERS MEAN MILES PER HOUR

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 131 H°e~% quick the public is to recognize and show preference for outstanding merit, ingenuity and progressiveness is dramatically proven by its elevation of Chrysler to the rank of fourth place in dollar- volume of automobile sales. It can only mean, of course, that people have discriminated in Chrysler’s favor be- cause of qualities and values in Chrysler cars which are unmistakably and undeniably in advance of current offerings. The outstanding growth in Chrysler volume proves conclusively that the four great cars produced by Chrysler Standardized Quality give results —in appearance, performance, dependability and long life—which are so outstanding in every price-class 77 that any Chrysler instantly proves its superiority to any car of com- parable price. “SQ” Four Great Lines* in Four Great Markets otor Car Manujac 4 f An ever-growing preference among buyers has accomplished the steady Chryslerization of the entire motor car industry — older standards and older ideas giving way before the newer Chrysler principles—all pointing to the inevitable conclusion that Chrysler cars and Chrysler manufacture actually do give greater value. Walter P. Chrysler’s open-minded and en- couraging genius, working with the great Chrysler engineering staff, splendidly pre- pared the way for such progress. His fortu- nate independence of corporate ties made it possible to achieve advances in the motor car art which have revolutionized To the whole world it is apparent that the genius which, in three years, has led the way to more important improvements in 7 ha uTeTS a ¢ automotive engineering and manufacturing than have been brought forth in the last ten years, must have produced cars which are undeniable leaders in unexampled qual- ity of performance, trimness and beauty, comfort, easy handling, safety and iong life in each of the four important price divisions of the market. Surely you owe it to yourself to ride in and drive one of these great Chryslers before you buy any make of car in a correspond- ing price class. Chrysler “60” prices —Touring Car, $1075; Club Coupe, $1125; Coach, $1145; Roadster, ( with rumble seat), $1175; Coupe, (with rumble seat), $1245; Sedan, $1245. F.0.B Detroit, subject to current Federal excise tax. Chrysler dealers are in position te extend the convenience of time payments. Ask about Chrysler's attractive plan All Chrysler cars have the additional protection against theft of the Fedco System of numbering. IMPERIAL “80”

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This chap nearly won the well-dressed: man contest He HAD on a smart shirt. His vest didn’t hike up in back. His trousers hung ¢traight and trim. His cuffs were the right dtyle. But his cuff buttons came from a dim and awk- ward pad! Remedy: Buttons. Kum-a-parts keep the cuffs neat and ‘lraight. They are smart-looking. They come in a wide variety of Ayles appre- priate for any informal oc- easion. Over ten million men today are wearing them. And finding that they are the easiedt cuff buttons to put on and take off yet discovered. A simple snap device (and you can’t wear it out) does the trick. , Snip! and they’re open. Snap! and they're closed. Buy Kum-a-parts! Guaran- teed for a lifetime. Priced to suit every purse. Up to $25. The Baer and Wilde Company, Attleboro, Mass. Slip-in-Studs j ae evening wear ‘make putting on a dress shirt a pleasure. Kum-e-part Cuff \ [a \ THE SATURDAY | (Continued from Page 129) him, andso on. I don’t believe that appeals to boys.” “JT think you're wrong,” said Patten. “In the first place, Merriwell has been re- peatedly identified as a humane character. He is kind to animals; it is part of his nature. In the second place, nine-tenths of the boys who read these stories are of the age when they are crazy over horses. They know all about horses. And when they read how Merriwell was considerate of his horse, that brings the story close home to them. Those two pages are just as interesting to them as though I had had Frank ride the | horse in front of the express train and grab | the girl off the cowcatcher. Get your mind off action. Action is what killed the old dime novel. It is all right for a few pages, | but it gets pretty tedious unless there is some character mixed up with it that you | can get interested in.” Smith was still | dubious. “I'll ask you one thing,” said Patten: “Do the stories sell?” Smith laughed. Turning to his brother he said: ‘‘I guess Patten’s got us there. The stories sell all right. If they haven’t got excitement, they’ve got something, so we might as well let him alone and let him do his stories his own fool way.” “‘Characters,”’ Patten explains, “were perhaps the hardest. When you're writing regular fiction, you draw your. characters from life. But when you’re writing for boys, | you draw your characters from the imag- ' inary world that boys live in. When I conceived Frank, I think I hit on approxi- | mately the boy that every kid would like | to be. Not, mind you, the boy that every | kid ought to be. That was the Horatio Al- | ger idea—a moral in every story. But my boy pointed no moral; he was just every boy’s ideal picture of himself. And I never did anything cleverer than when I made Frank, right in the first story, an expert ventriloquist. “The kids had all heard of this trick, and they had all gone out back of the barn to | practice, in a secret effort to acquire it. So when Frank appeared as a master of this mysterious art they fell in love with him at once. “But Frank wasn’t the only character. There had to be others, especially villains. For a long time Bart Hodge was the chief villain of the series. He was the boy who | cuffed the little pop-corn vender at the rail- road station. Bart, however, eventually re- nounced his evil ways and became Frank’s closest friend. Then there was Porfias del | Norte, who appeared when I took Frank out West for a time. | The Greatest Villain of All | “Friends have told me that Porfias del Norte was the greatest villain of all litera- | ture. He had every human depravity, and | a few depravities that had not heretofore | been regarded as human. He stopped at nothing—not even mayhem. His word was | not worth the breath it took to utter it. He had not the slightest chivalry toward | women and children. He associated with low characters. He was prolific of plots, | schemes and intrigues. His lightest word was a curse. “Then there had to be comic characters. It is a curious thing, but you cannot give boys real humor. They do not understand it. Slapstick is what they get fun out of. That is the reason for such characters as Harry Rattleton, who always said things like ‘I seel filly—I mean, I feel silly.’ Boys think that very funny. And Hans Dunnerwurst, the Dutch boy; and Eph- raim Gallup, the lank Yankee boy, who, every time things began to get hot, would moan, ‘I wisht I was to hum on the farm.’ EVENING POST “Only twice did I draw characters from life. Once was when I used a friend of mine, Capt. Walter Wiley, and put him into the stories, name and all. He had been a sea- faring man and was a picturesque fellow, and he went over great with the boys. In the stories he was always referred to as the Windjammer.” “The other time was a little different.” Here Patten pauses to laugh. “‘One time I met a lady I knew, up in Maine—a Mrs. Gardner, and she said to me, ‘ Mr. Patten, my boy reads about Frank Merriwell every week, and he wants to know if you couldn’t put him into a story.’ “So I said that would be easy enough, and I asked her ore or two questions about what kind of looking boy he was, since I had never seen him, and one or two other things about him, and then I put him into a story. He only appeared for a sentence or two, did Earl Gardner, as a freshman at Yale who wanted to meet the great Frank Merriwell, but never had the chance, and I thought that would be the end of it. But within two weeks I had a hundred letters from boys all over the country, demanding that I give them more about Ear! Gardner. So Earl Gardner became one of the most popular characters in the stories.” A Real Boy Hero “A trust,” said O. Henry, “is its own weakest point”; and the same principle held true for Merriwell. It was his very popularity that led to his downfall. For in spite of all that Patten did to stunt his growth, he grew bigger and bigger and older and older, until no boy in the world could be expected to take an interest in him. His story, indeed for the last ten event- ful years of his life, is the story of Patten’s desperate efforts to keep alive the spark of youth within him.» Other characters might stay the same age for years. Mutt and Jeff look the same now as they did seventeen years ago; the Katzenjammer Kids never grow up, and neither does Chester Gump. But Merriwell had no such luck. He was the idol of thousands of boys who kept book on himas closely as thousands of other boys now keep book on Babe Ruth. When Frank had finished the first year at Fardale he had to go on to second year; there was no more chance that he could be sent to repeat the course than that he could be sent out to rob a bank. And after four years at Far- dale he was through at Fardale; the big question was what to do with him next. In accordance with the original plan, he went to Yale. He was a great boy at Yale; he made the football team every year, and won all the Harvard games single-handed in the last minute of play. He was elected to all the best fraternities; he led his class with honors. In fact he was easily the most remarkable student that Old Eli ever had. But at the end of his junior year, the same old question came up; in another year he would graduate, and be a man, out of the ken of boys forever. The situation was rather serious. The circulation was now 108,000; much depended on Merriwell, so far as the publishers were concerned, and also so far as Patten was concerned. His original $50 a week, after a number of raises, had become $150; and in the early 1900's this was not to be sneezed at. To gain time to think, Patten took Frank out of Yale. He contrived a dastardly plot whereby Frank lost all his money and had to go to work on a railroad. Here, at least, it would be harder for the boys to keep tab on the hero, since there were no college semesters marking the time so easily. And while Frank worked on the locomotives, Patten racked his brain as to what to do. And finally he decided he would retire June 11,1927 Frank and invent a long-lost brother, much younger than Frank, who would reawaken juvenile interest. So Frank settled the great strike on the railroad, recovered his fortune, went back to college, graduated at the end of a year, and the stage was all set for Dick. The ad- vent of Dick presented some difficulties, as Frank was an only child, as all the read- ers knew. Nevertheless, Merriwell pére had once taken a mysterious trip, and Patten let it be known that on this trip he had got married, and Dick Merriwell was the result of that union. So Dick Merriwell finally appeared on the scene, much to the surprise of Frank, as may be imagined. But Dick was a dreadful flop. The read- ers still numbered thousands, of course, for the name Merriwell was potent. But the boys never took to Dick as they had taken to Frank. “The reason,” says Patten, “was that Dick was not the character that Frank was. I couldn’t make him a replica of Frank, you know; he had to be different. But it was Frank who really stood for every boy’s dream. Dick was all right, but not many boys wanted to be like him. And then I suppose I had got careless. Frank’s ven- triloquism was a big hit. But Dick’s ca- pacity to talk with wild animals never went over. It just didn’t click. I guess I had written Merriwells too long.” And so, after a few years of Dick, the Merriwell series came to an end. After Patten gave it up, two or three others tried to carry on, but without success. Frank’s Long:Lost Brother Shortly after the Merriwell stories started, Beadle & Adams closed their doors. After the debacle, Patten and Arthur Grissom, first editor of Smart Set, persuaded Street & Smith to give the colo- nel a berth. And there he continued to recount the glories of Buffalo Bill, but to an ever-dwindling clientele. In 1904, just before he died, the colonel went up to visit Patten in Maine. “‘How’s Little Lord Merriweather?” he asked. “Paying a hundred and fifty a week,” said Patten. ‘“How’s Buffalo Bill?” “Dead,” said the colonel. ‘‘Cody’s not, but Buffalo Bill is.” He sighed. ‘‘Gil,’’ he confided, ‘“‘something’s happened to this country. Things aren’t what they used to be.” In addition to the Merriwell stories, Patten has written seventy novels of standard length, besides innumerable se- rials and short stories that were never gath- ered into book form. The Merriwells, in reissued form, are still on sale on the news- stands. He estimates that in his life he has written 40,000,000 words of fiction, or enough to fill eight five-foot shelves. He is now plain Gilbert Patten, having dropped the William because it reminded him of the days when he was called Willie. Oddly enough, although he is easily the country’s most prolific literatus, you will not find him in Who’s Who. “Did I love Merriwell?’’ he says. ‘Not at first. Those early stories were more of a joke to me than anything else. But when it got so that a half million kids were reading him every week—and I think there were that many, when you stop to think how the stories were lent from hand to hand—I began to realize that I had about the big- gest chance to influence the youth of this country that any man ever had. And when you get the messiah complex you are lost. Yes, I loved him. And I loved him most because no boy, if he followed in his tracks, ever did anything that he need be ashamed of.”

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*“*YOUR HOME SHOULD COME FIRST”’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 133 To te GMI 2 Bh) to ee = DAVENPORT BED SUITE NO. 1754 OCCASIONAL CHAIR NO. 315 Add another bedroom this easy way Are you, like so many other women of today, la- menting the lack of a guest room—an extra bed- room—to accommodate overnight guests—to use in time of illness? There is an easy way to have this needed bed- room at no extra cof. Thousands of families are doing it—with the handsome Kroehler Davenport Bed. It combines with the beautiful living room suite you need the extra bedroom you require—at the cost of the ordinary davenport of good quality. You buy a davenport. You get an extra bedroom at no extra cost. By day the beautiful, stylish Kroehler Davenport Bed lends to your living room the comfort and syle of finest custom-bué/t furniture. Yet, at night, a simple easy motion reveals a full sized bed. It has deep, restful springs. Bed clothes are all in place. There is no more comfortable bed in your home. Hidden qualities Like all ‘‘Kroehler-made’’ furniture, the davenport bed is scientifically built inside, as well as outside. The frame is of selected, kiln-dried hardwood, strongly braced, glued, doweled and corner blocked. Not merely soft wood natled together. Resilient, non-sagging seat springs are of heavy, high carbon wire of premier quality, interlocked witha spring steel understructure. Far stronger than the usual webbing. Filling is of sterilized flax fiber, best moss and felted cotton. Seat cushions are filled with patented, yielding coil springs; thickly padded with clean, white, felted cotton. The folding bed frame is all-steel, fitted with sagless cable fabric and helical springs. Ample space for mattress and bedding Yet, because of tremendous production, econom- ical purchasing, scientific manufaciuring practice and skilled craftsmen, the prices of this handsome up-to-date furniture are surprisingly reasonable. Moderate prices The nearest Krochler dealer will show you our latest period and overstuffed designs. Also, a wide silk damask, mohair, Chase Velmo, Baker velours, jac variety of fine quality coverings in Capestr vy, guard velours, linen frieze and moquette, leather or Chase leatherwove. He will arrange convenient terms if you desire Upon request we will gladly send the name of a dealer near you and a free copy of our new book, ‘Enjoyable Living Rooms Address, Kroen_er Mro.Co.,Chicago, Ill., or Stratford, Ont 4 4 4 Kankakee, Illinois; Bradley, Illinois Naperville, Illinois; Cleveland, Ohio; Binghamtor N. Y.; Dallas, Texas; Los Angeles, Calif.; San Fras Ontart Fadortes at: cisco, Calif. Canadian Fadory: Stratford, KROEHLER $ Dazenport Be DO NOT ACCEPT A SUBSTITUTE: += + KROEHLER MADE LOOK FOR THIS KROEHLER NAMI PLATE

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134 Me hundation 0 of summer Comfort / -the finest ‘f wnion sut made ou can wear the lightest Palm Beach suit and a shirt of gossamer silk—but you won't be cool unless your underwear is comfortable! It stands to reason that your union suit is the foundation on which you build summer comfort. Take ‘*Sturdi-chex.’’ Cool and airy,—light and soothing to the skin. Cut full and easy—yet not in the least baggy! And although light and cool, sturdy enough to stand strenuous wear and frequent washings! Buy 6 suits and enjoy a comfortable summer. Other Varsity Underwear $1 to $7 a suit arsi UNDERWEAR CO. BALTIMORE, MD. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 | HOW COME PIGEONS? Fifty-four fine-looking youngsters lost and still I was happy. I had the start of that dependable strain, and the stock birds that produced them. The four birds of the same blood that came home to me that night through the rain were the Day Hen—mentioned before— the mother of Safety, the Bee Line Kid and No. 9942, three times 600 miles, on the day of toss. They were all blue, with black bars across their wings, like Belle and John of my early days. Their pedigrees took a lot of running down, for the man who had owned their parents had no idea of their blood lines. Finally I traced them to an importation of a well-known fancier ten years earlier. They were of purest Wegge blood, and the pedigrees on both sides went back to Petit Noir and Vendome, the bright stars in the stud of that famous | Belgian flyer. | Now I had the stock I wanted; but I | must have an outcross that would nick, as | breeders call it. My two other birds that finished that day were hens, and, after all, | they were better than 392 other young- sters that had their same chance. They would do very nicely for the two blue cocks, but what about cocks for the blue hens? That would have to wait for another breeding season. Birds straggled in for a week, one at a time, and I kept a record of the arrivals. Many of that sixty I never saw again. The following spring I had an old-bird team of my six stars and about ten of the late ar- rivals. These birds had had too much taken out of them to fly them farther that year. It is so that racing teams are built up. I was lucky to have struck gold so soon. Bird Timers Timing clocks are of two varieties—the start-and-stop clock and the continuous run- | ning timer. I shall describe the mechanism | of only one type. It costs fifty dollars. Men whose appearance proclaims their gen- eral poverty nevertheless own these clocks. They are represented as unbeatable. They contain a roll of pzper upon which, with the turning of a crank, are stamped three clock dials, each containing a single hand. The first dial indicates the hours, so that if the single hand points at three, the crank was turned at three o’clock. The second dial registers the minutes and the third dial the seconds. The clock must contain the countermark taken from each bird upon arrival, as proclaimed by the clock dials. This countermark is a soft rubber ring containing on its inmost side a printed number which no- body knows. It (Continued from Page 19) of diai faces and must contain twelve coun- termarks, if theyare used to capacity. Other- wise they must contain one set of dials and one countermark for each bird which it is claimed has negotiated the course. On shipping night hundreds of fanciers gather at headquarters, each with his wicker basket containing his carefully conditioned entries. When his name is called he steps up to a long counter behind which sit, at intervals of about five feet, the secretaries of all the clubs in the concourse. Behind the secretaries is a solid wall of shipping crates of uniform size, about two and a half feet by four. These crates are bedded with fresh sawdust to a depth of an inch or more. Beside them stand the handlers of the birds, picked for the purpose. No one else is allowed within the inclosure. The contestant steps up when his name is called and produces his entry sheet. This sheet contains the list of his birds—their registered numbers, their color and sex, to- gether with a list of the pools for which they are entered. The secretary sees that the list is in order and takes from the box be- side him the requisite number of counter- marks. The contestant takes from his basket a bird. He says, “ Blue Check Cock 62407.” The handler comes forward, takes the bird, verifies the number and places upon its leg the countermark handed him by the secretary. The secretary has first entered the countermark number of the bird in its proper coluinn opposite 62407 B. C.C. The handler then places the bird in the topmost crate of the stack behind him. These stacks are six or eight crates high and the right-hand stack is for cocks, while the left-hand one is for hens. The second bird called is placed in the second crate, and so on. This is so that an accident to one crate would not work too great a hardship on one contestant. When the list is completed and checked, the contestant pays his entry fee for each bird and the amount of the pools for which he has entered his birds. Two o’clock in the morning sees a suc- cession of immense trucks, each piled high with crates of birds, setting out for the ex- press cars in Jersey City, and the fanciers, carrying empty baskets, set out for home. Each man has received from the race secre- tary his clock, elaborately sealed. These clocks have all been run against a master timer and their variations noted. The clock committee has had these timers in its hands for several days. My reading had taken me deep into pigeon lore and I knew something about all has on its outside another number, which goes on the entry sheet oppo- site the registered number of the bird as shown by his seamless | band—the alumi- num one he wears always,which was put on his leg | when he waseight days old. A bird without his regis- tered aluminum band is ineligible. Now when the crank of the | timer is turned, | the aforemen- | tioned counter- mark is locked in acompartment at the same time that the dials are | printed. These |eclocks time varieties shown in this country. The jaco- bin I found to be the most popular at the shows, and the breed that offered the most competition. Prices were high, too—$150, $200, $500 for a champion was not unusual. I bought some at a ridiculous price and learned quickly that I cared nothing about them. They are a development of the old- fashioned ruffleneck of our boyhood, and, as bred now, are entirely blinded by the immense hoods of feather that cover their heads. I found that they would walk straight into a wall, could scarcely fly at all, and had great difficulty in finding their food, unless all this mass of feathers—their beauty and reason for existence—were cut away with scissors. So doctored, they were hideous. If a rainstorm came up suddenly and happened to catch them in the aviary, they would drown unless I went out and put them in one by one. What a comedown for aman accustomed to breeding birds that could fly through a rainstorm for fourteen hours on end! I gave them away to the first man who would take them. Loved for Their Defects A fantail breeder made me a present of a pair of white fans, in an effort to get me into that branch of the fancy. The normal pigeon has twelve feathers in its tail, while the fantail has fifty, more or less. These birds were splendid specimens, my friend told me. One of the points called for in the standard was that they must carry their heads well back and their carriage must be haughty. My birds carried their heads so far back that when I put water before them, although they had been two days in a ship- ping crate, they could not see over their chests to find it. I had to catch them and stick their beaks in the water. There were other monstrosities called German toys, owls, turbits, Oriental frills, satinettes, blondinettes, and so on. Beau- tiful they are, but their beaks are so short that it is necessary to have other birds as feeders. They cannot feed their own young. Then there are the muffed varieties, with four-inch feathers growing from their feet, so that they are constantly tripping over their own feet as they walk. And English carriers, long thin and homely, with im- mense vile wattles, and eye ceres that are likely to become diseased, and are an im- mense amount of trouble to their fanciers. There is also the family of tumblers. They turn back somersaults in the air because of a nervous affection. All these defectives are highly valued, and generally because of their defects, which men choose to call their distinctive characteristics. Every oneof them is a handicap to the bird in its existence. There are other fancy birds with- out handicaps of any sort, but these have very little value, and there is no sort of competition in their breeding. Among these are nuns, helmets, flights, archan- gels. They are all of thesame family and are admired for their contrast- ing plumage. None of these in- terested me. My birds must have the ability to manage all their own affairs with- out assistance, or | twelve birds, | print twelve sets The Four Main Buildings of the Squab Farm at New Rochelle, N.Y. (Continued on Page 136)

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Utter protection and security, plus the problem of disposal By ELLEN J. BUCII UMMER motoring, days and yachting —don’t let of a difficult hygienic situation The protection old-time method has now that is new way that will make a that will provide peace-ol mind circumstances Kotex—what it does Unknown a few years ago, & in better walks of life have dis- carded the insecure ‘‘sanitary pads"’ of yesterday and adopted IXotex. Filled wadding, the with Cellucotton } world’s super- *Suppli -d also through vendir x cabinets in rest-rooms by West Disinfecting Co AND, R moonlight been absolute, great THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Gayest of Frocks—Sheerest of Light Summer Things Wear Them Now Under The Most Trying Hygienic Handicap thsorbent, Kotex absorbs 16 times s own weight in ture It is 5 times as absorbent as ordinar It discards easily is tissu No laundry no emba ment ot disposal It ilsa thoroughly deodorizes, ind thus ends an annovin | I problem 2 Only Kotex itself is “like” Kotex ; an , See that you get the genuine Wotex It is the | napkin embodying the super-absorbent Cellucott It is the me made | thi pan 0 Lot itself is “lik Kotex, | You can obtain Kotex at better dru ind depart stores everywhert without ! * Kote (Comes 1 sanita kages 12 1 Regula Ix es ! Sup Kotex ¢ pan 180 Nort! - ) Michigan Ave., Chicago, Il 2 “ Ask for them by name PROTECTS—DEODORIZE » iS x Re . Ss Easy Disposal 1 2 other act

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THE SATURDAY 136 Be a Only one way / to PROVE | : Foot Comfort Claims *» is : . - The Ground Gripper Next time you read ar tied foot comfort claims— take the trouble that you owe to your per- sonal comfort to test and see the shoe, itself. Does it offer good appearance and comfort? ... _—_—_——-~ 2 ig / Of Importance Does it afford the joy of utter relaxation in walk- C/ to Women, ing, shopping, dancing, golf? If so, ten chances out of ten, it’s the Ground Gripper— and none other—that you are inspecting. For Ground Grippers are scientifically con- structed to allow every muscle, bone, nerve and tendon to function naturally. They offer a com- bination of corrective and preventive features found in no other shoe. The FLEXIBLE ARCH conforms to the natural atch of the foot, allowing the muscles to ex- ercise with every step; the STRAIGHT INNER LINE allows the toes to function with that strong, gripping, natural action; and the patented ROTOR HEEL makes you “toe straight ahead.” The new Ground Gripper Sport Oxford for women. Smart and comfortable to the last degree . . . See, too, the new Ground Gripper Dress Line — beautifully de- signed, stylish, and far more comfortable than ordinary style shoes. Ground Gripper The Most Comfortable Shoe in the World FOR MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN In two types for men and women: Corrective—which guards against and corrects foot troubles, and Modified Corrective—embodying the same features but with a modified outer swing. The nearest Ground Gripper dealer will gladly sug- gest the type most suited to your comfort. Write for name of nearest dealer om *e a | GROUND GripPeR SHOE Co., IN¢ 90 Linden Park St., Boston, Mass. Soe re er ee ee eee one ee | | for a stock farm producing utility birds of o j “Segre” Please send me your booklet on care of the feet. Something everyone should know Name TREE for the asking Send to- . ay for your copy of interesting | Address ooklet Whar You Should Know About Your Feet.’ y City EVENING POST (Continued from Page 134) else I feel contempt for them. They must also be of real value in men’s eyes. There began to appear in ever-greater quantities in the shows pigeons character- ized as the utility breeds. These birds were | very large—almost twice as big as hom- | ers—and they were logy, stupid to my un- | educated eye can accustomed eyes—much as a Percheron must look to the eyes of a breeder of Thor- oughbreds. There are such things as thor- oughbred Percherons, however. I made inquiries and found to my surprise that champion specimens of these breeds sold for as much as any of the fancy varieties. Best of all, they had no abnormalities of any sort, and theoretically at least, their value was based on something solid. They produced food for men in the form of squabs. Not the little shriveled things served at banquets, but big, tender, juicy squabs that weighed a pound to a pound and a quarter dressed—squabs as large as broilers. Now I had no desire to go into the butchering business, but I knew from ex- perience that in breeding anything there are many of the unfit to one of the fit, and that it was just as well to have a market for the undesirables. In the sport of racing pigeons the disposal of the supernumeraries had always been a problem. Perhaps six young birds would plug the gaps in your racing team, and at the end of the young- bird series of races you were likely to have fifty. Success in racing almost invariably attended those lofts containing few birds very well cared for. I began to have a vision of a pigeon stock farm somewhere in the country, away from city sounds and sights, with long houses filled with splendid specimens of pigeons, ever improving in quality. I rather fancied myself as a breeder. The tale of the work- ingman who purchased from the wealthy dog fancier the runt of the litter for a song, later to win the blue ribbon over all the wealthy fancier’s stud, has always thrilled me. And there is this much truth in that sort of tale: A breeder with a fine and select two mediocre specimens and breed from them a better individual than either parent, or, for that matter, get a better result than the mil- lionaire fancier can get with all his money, provided he has not this knack. I cannot explain how it is done, but in pigeons some- thing tells you that this cock is the right cock for this hen, and that that one is not, and that is all there is about it. Fortified With Reasons I wanted to get action on this ability I felt I-possessed, so I fortified myself with a great many excellent-sounding reasons for going into the pigeon-farming business To begin with, every man should have an anchor to windward, and the drawback toa profession lay in the fact that when you ceased laboring you most likely ceased eating simultaneously. Then a man in my confining profession—I draw pictures for a living—felt the need of getting back to the earth, you know. This sitting on a stool all day painting pretty girls is a bit cloying after a time. It is like dining exclusively on chocolate eclairs. I have seen the time when I would stop dead in the middle of the street to gaze in admiration at some passer-by because she was so ugly. I craved corn beef and cabbage and honest sweat, and men—horny-handed, vulgar, profane, tobacco-chewing men—and brown earth and growing things. All these were | to be had on a farm, I felt. | | | } j | | | | | I satisfied myself that there was a market for squabs—my by-product—and a demand | the highest quality; in fact that there was decided room for improvement in this same quality. I talked to utility men and visited their farms, and found, in many instances, considerable ignorance regarding pigeons and their nature. There was too often the | calm acceptance of hoary legend, without any attempt at investigation at first hand. For the most part, and invariably so at June 11,1927 farms of any size, there was no attempt to keep records of individual pairs. So many birds were thrown into a pen and the marketable squabs gathered periodically. Twenty-four to twenty-eight days is the marketable age for a squab. If a squab was overlooked on killing day it was allowed to grow up where it was and eventually became a stock bird. The ri- diculous feature of this is that the reason it was overlooked was because it had jumped out uf the nest, and the reason it jumped out of the nest was because it was hungry and underfed. Therefore these men were saving for future breeders those squabs that would have been graded as culls by the commission houses. When the production of a pen dropped below a certain figure the whole pen was disposed of to the live mar- ket at about twenty cents a head. “But,” I objected, ‘‘some of these birds may be the best producers you have.” “Sure,” said the breeder, “but if you think you are going to keep track of the work of each pair in a plant of this size, you have another think coming.” “That's just exactly what I am going to do,”’ I answered. A House on the Roof First, I got down to the designing of a house that should be practical, inexpensive, and, most of all, adapted to the likes and dislikes of pigeon nature as I knew it. There is no question whatever but that a pigeon will work better when it is happy. It is happy when it has proper food, the mate it likes and the sort of nest box that it likes. It was my business to supply these things, and I set about it. After much thought I stumbled upon the plans of a California type of pigeon house that, with a few alterations of my own, seemed to fill the bill. A contractor agreed to build a portable six-unit house for me and erect it on the flat roof of a building near my studio for $1000. This was accomplished while my fellow townsmen stood on the corners and gazed in amazement at the fifty-foot building being erected upon a roof three stories above street level. “‘Pardon me,”’ you can imagine one of them saying to another, ‘‘but can you tell me what that strange-looking building is for?” ‘*Well, I asked one of the carpenters the same question, and he said it was for pigeons.” ‘*Pigeons?”’ A long silence and then— ““Who’s building it?” “Coles Phillips.” Ah, the mystery was explained—a crazy artist. Just what an artist would do. No doubt they tapped their foreheads mean- ingly. It worried me not a jot or tittle, for my studio window commanded this roof, and its proximity enabled me to give the project far more attention than I otherwise could. This building was an experiment, and it was much better sense to give it a six months’ try-out before putting any real money into buildings. Procuring stock to fill it was my next This I had imagined to be the concern. easiest part of all—and it was the most difficult. Apparently all the breeders chuckled to themselves, ‘‘ Ah, this is soft! An artist with lots of money. He must have money because he draws pictures for the magazines. I speak for him first.” They tried to sell me culls, pens consist- ing entirely of cocks, all sorts of mongrels for pure-bred Carneaux, and white homer crosses for white kings. One man tried to sell me super-homers at six dollars a pair. He did not raise a bird, so he had no means of telling anything at all about the birds he sold. All birds were thrown in together in a big building, and when an order came in, Joe or Ed was told to catch so many pairs of birds. If Joe wasn’t a good picker, he might get nineteen cocks and one hen, and the purchaser would wait a very long time before getting much in the way of squabs. If the seamless bands on the birds’ legs revealed that they were long since (Continued on Page 139)

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— oe - = THE SATURDAY EVENING POST e world's greatest Social error Courtesy demands much of a guest. Others are present. They must be considered. Politeness forbids that a dish be pushed aside. To leave the table would be unthinkable. Failure to taste food that tempts the palates of others causes one to become an object of attention—and uncertainty. .a distressing situation that is easily avoided but rarely excused. @ & The presence of a fly when food is served is unforgettable and almost unforgivable—the world’s greatest social error! Cleanly persons neither tolerate flies in their homes nor enjoy TA being guests in homes of those less partic ular than themselves. Household hygiene, to Americans, is akin to personal cleanliness. | Tangletoot Spray is equally effective in killing all common destructive and disease-spreading household insect pests Nothing else ts so powerful, thorough, conven ient, safe and free from objectionable features Don’t confuse it with ordinary insecticides It is fatal to insects—but harms nothing else Use Tar gletor t moths, roaches and ants It costs no more chan less effecti ve substitutes and 1s well worth demanding Grocers and druggists sell it Spray for combating fhes. dedDugs, mosquitoes, fleas I TA r Com ANY NGLEFOOT SPRAY

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138 GUARANTEED Ms ee ——— x ee "4 GUARANTEED HEATING Your contractor re- ceivesawritten guarantee on the heating capacity of every Capito! boiler No other heating equipment assures you satisfaction so definitely. SUPPLIED AND THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ALL HEAT OVER THE HOUSE Gone are the iron Lazy black smoke floating from the chim- ney used to signal that Zeke had started the fire for the winter. Inside his Four Corners General Store, the town’s choice spirits gathered. A spring-bell announced each opening of the door, while snow-laden air beat and sizzled on the glowing iron of the round stove. Comfortably perched near it, they talked genially of politics, crops, and rabbit-hunts. Today, Four Corners is the site of a well- planned department store, whose chimney almost never shows smoke. And the old iron stove has given way to a Capitol boiler in the basement, with United States radi- ators scientifically arranged. Thus cities have grown. And in the thir- ty-seven years since its founding, so too has the United States Radiator Corporation stove days developed. Constantly alert for every ad- vance in the art of heating, the company has surely and steadily expanded, until now its boilers and radiators in all varieties of types and sizes are found in large city build- ings and in small country homes. One of its largest contributions to thrifty, uniform warmth is Capitol guaranteed heating. This is a written guarantee that every Capitol boiler wili satisfactorily heat a definite number of radiators, and elimi- nates all doubt and speculation about cor- rect boiler size. Whether you are building a group of houses, an apartment building, or a bunga- low, consult a good contractor about Capitol guaranteed heating. And write for an interesting, illustrated book, A Mod- ern House Warming. Free, on request. UNITED STATES Faia TOR (GRPORA TION -DETROIT, MICHIGAN 6 FACTORIES AND 32 ASSEMBLING PLANTS SERVE THE COUNTRY For 37 years, builders of dependable heating equipment ea “ WITH Capitol Boilers AND RADIATORS WITH June 1, 1927 ECONOMY INSTALLED NATIONALLY BY ESTABLISHED HEATING CONTRACTORS

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(Continued from Page 136) past the age for breeding, the bands would be snipped off before the birds were shipped out. Yes, there was an opportunity for a stock farm. I found that the most effective way, too, of exposing these fakers was to drop in upon them before they were ready. I would pick out an advertisement that sounded reasonable and then go through the back files of the pigeon magazines. If he had been a regular advertiser for some years, I thought that he was not likely to be a faker, or otherwise he would have been exposed. I would negotiate with him for several hun- dred Carneaux and the same number of white kings. These are the two best-known varieties of utility birds. He would write that he had them “‘all mated, banded and working pairs,” and that he would sell them at five dollars a pair. Without warning, I would take a night train and surprise him the next morning before he had finished his breakfast. Ten to one he didn’t have fifty birds on the place, and maybe they were the varie- ties offered and maybe they were not. He was a dealer, of course, not a breeder, and his intention was to unload upon me what- ever culls he could buy up. The opportunity for a pigeon stock farm loomed larger and larger. I dropped in upon another correspondent unceremoniously. He had dealt in large talk about the tested breeders in Pen Num- ber 7 and their value as against the im- ported Persian gazeebs in Pen Number 10. When I got there, Pen Number 7 was a cow shed and Pen Number 10 a collection of dry-goods boxes piled in the back lot. The imported Persian purple-neck gazeebs were a miscellaneous collection of crosses of the common varieties of utility birds. The first purple-neck gazeeb had undoubt- edly been an accident, for the roof of a barn was covered with birds of a dozen different varieties mating up any which way. The Lifeblood of the Business I bought some birds of this man, for his birds at least had vitality, in spite of the fact that he was evidently a charlatan. I was as good a judge of the varieties as he was, and though I afterward culled many of them because of the fact that they were not pure-bred, still I got my money’s worth. Little by little I accumulated my initial stock—a few pairs here and a few pairs there. What a farce to have to go through all this in order not to be trimmed! I did not know then what I do ncw—that is, that no man will sell you his best breeders. What he wants to dispose of are those birds that do not work to suit him—his seconds, in other words. The only reason- able way is to buy youngsters bred from his best. These he will sell—at a price. But his best breeders are the lifeblood of his business, and he will not dispose of them unless he is going out of business. It would be like a factory selling out its machinery. The art of culling I had started to prac- tice even before I made my first purchase. Though I did not know these two varie- ties—Carneaux and white kings—I knew pigeons in general, and I accepted no birds showing signs of constitutional weakness— crooked keels, for example. Into my house on the roof went 180 pairs of the best utility stock I could purchase, and it was none too good. Previously I had determined, by figuring, what the yield must be from each pair in order to show a profit. I decided that twelve marketable youngsters a year was my minimum. I was like the landlord of an apartment house. Each double nest box—there were thirty of each to a pen must yield me a rental of twelve Grade A squabs a year to pay expenses, and the tenants of any box must be dispossessed as soon as it was apparent that they were un- able to pay. Nothing must interfere with this program, and though five years have gone past and the farm has grown to twelve times its original size, nothing ever has. THE SATURDAY My first squabs averaged ten pounds to the dozen. Although this is what the trade calls a jumbo squab, they were too small to suit me. As far as I could determine, there would be practically no difference in the overhead in producing squabs weigh- ing, dressed, ten pounds to the dozen and those weighing twelve pounds, or one pound each. Since squabs are sold by the pound, the advantage of raising the big ones is obvious. The Role of Cupid But the quantity production—there was the rub. It was evident that I was not going to net twelve marketable squabs from more than one pair out of three. This brought the cost a pair up to about fifteen dollars. I sharpened up the figurative ax, gritted my teeth and went toit. Asa mat- ter of fact, I got thirty-five cents apiece from the Italians for two-thirds of my flock, none of which had cost me less than $2.50. Not too auspicious a beginning, I considered it. I had left, sixty pairs of birds, mostly Carneaux, which could and would pay their rent, however, and four empty pens. Then and there I decided that the only way to procure really good stock was to breed it. That would take time, but it would be infinitely cheaper than trying to purchase stock. Then I took my 120 birds that showed a disposition to work and spent infinite care in the selection of a proper mate for each. Color played no part in this; it was con- formation entirely. A cock was placed in a cage and one of a half dozen hens placed in with him. The hen coming nearest to being his perfect complement was the nom- inee, unless they showed an aversion to each other. Real love matches are always the most successful. If all augured well, a colored, numbered leg band was placed on the leg of each. The first pair became Yellow Number One, the next Yellow Number Two, and so on up to Yellow Num- ber Ten. Then I began on the green bands, and finished with the white ones. Thus there were ten pairs of each color in each of my two pens. These different colors made it easier to locate a given bird when it became necessary. A printed card, on the wall of the aisle that ran the full length of the building in front of the pens, had on it spaces for the records of each pair for each month. I have never been able to improve on this system. All squabs were marketed at twenty- eight days except the very finest. About one out of five passed muster. Gradually I filled one of the unoccupied pens with youngsters that were a decided improve- ment on their parents, but still far from ideal, to my mind. Many of my squabs outweighed either of their parents before they had left the nest—that is, before they were able to fly. Two medium-sized birds, properly cared for, and, of course, properly selected, will often produce very large youngsters. I had investigated the demand for the highest-grade squabs through visits to some of the commission houses in New York City and had received the assurance upon all sides that the supply would never equal the demand. I found this to beso, with areserva- tion. The demand in the summertime was EVENING POST at a figure set by these houses, which was below the cost of production. Their policy is to buy them in the season of greatest pro- duction, freeze them and sell them to the butchers the following winter when prices are at their peak. The answer lay in devel- oping one’s own trade, for a frozen squab can never compare for a second to the fresh- killed article. Mr. Columbus Iselin sold me four acres of land adjoining his series of lakes that furnished the water supply for New Ro- chelle. On this piece of protected flat land I built four long houses, each with accom- modations for 720 breeders, and each with its individual granary. These houses, with | a few minor changes, were the same as my experimental house on the roof. I pro- ceeded to fill them with youngsters of my | own breeding, following out my original | plan. Only the finest youngsters from the pairs showing the highest production were kept. This sounds like a slower process than it really is. Some pairs produced as many as twenty youngsters a year, all of which were splendid material for foundation | stock. I added from time to time a strong dash of show stock to improve the type. | The youngsters themselves began produc- ing at eight months. I had broken into the business two young men, brothers, sons of a much-respected farmer near by. One devoted himself to the production and the other to the marketing end of the business. Never in my life had I had so much fun. The days flew past. From the farm, one could not have told that there was a city within. 100 miles, and yet I was within fifteen minutes of my studio. My pens were filling up with the finest-looking utility birds I had ever laid my eyes on. Pigeon men from all over came to see the young stock. I invented a watering system that never froze in winter, and dumped and rinsed and refilled the bath pans by the turning of a lever. Trade was building up surprisingly and the farm was beginning to carry itself. There were buzzing in my head a thousand schemes for improve- ments, labor-saving devices, and one thing and another. The houses were painted a French blue, against which the snow-white kings, or the deep red or golden-yellow Carneaux were equally effective. Passing the Buck Then I took between the eyes the hardest wallop I have ever had. A very famous doctor asked me to cal] and bring Mrs. Phillips with me. I had been consulting him once a week for some six months. He said to me, ‘‘ How’s your nerve?” I answered, ‘‘ Never better; why?” “‘Because you have a bad kidney condi- tion, and you will need all of it. No work, no activity, just rest. You are going to Florida next week.”’ He had turned to my wife. “Treat him exactly as though he were a baby.” Then started the well-known game of passing the buck, with me in the rdéle of buck. I was passed to Florida, back to New York, to Switzerland, to the Riviera, and again back to New York. Twenty- three separate great men of medicine did painfu' and expensive things to me and | grew steadily worse. My mail contained letters from well- meaning friends counseling the dissolution of my farm. All doctors advised it. I was in no condition to have the responsibilities and worries incident to the carrying on of such an enterprise. From my bed I refused all such advice. My farm was the only pleasant thing I had to think about, which I tried to make them understand. I was too weak to make it forceful enough. Finally, in Italy, I got my back up. I had spent about all the money I had on doctors and their silly advice, and I had improved in inverse ratio. I was going back to my farm and get well there with- out any doctor whatever. ThisI did. lam improving daily, and so is the farm, and perhaps now I have the answer to the question: “* Why pigeons? 139 eZ penentnmisnancehs a . Let the Club Do the Work Swinging too hard or choking your stroke in an effort to get proper distance will destroy accuracy run up your An easy swing with the proper club will give you a new njoyment improve your score and score. sense of ¢ in this great game and immensely. For every short from the tee to the « up, there is a Grand Slam club of just the right loft and weight, graded for power and distance. It “teels” like every other Grand Slam and is played the same, with- You play rm skilland accuracy out adjustment of your swing every shot with unif GRAND SLAM GOLF {CLUBS A complete assortment of Grand Slam wood clubs are priced at $7.00 to $12.5 steel and hickory s! afes; and the irons are $5.00 each with wood shafts and $7.00 wit! steel. Your dealer will be glad to show you these great clubs. Or, write direct f our interesting taiog, “Happier Golf” HILLERICH & BRADSBY CO., ! 472 Finzer, St. Louisville, Kentucky Ma fe indard Lowsvwille Basebali £ tporated ‘8

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 1, 1927 Stay Young with Your Daughter As scores of mothers do by keeping that schoolgirl complexion, the result of natural ways in skin care. The daily rule to follow: : Youth is charm, and youth lost is charm lost, as every woman instinctively realizes. To keep youth, keep the skin clean and the pores open. Banish artificial ways in skin care. Natural ways are best. Use soap, but be sure it is a soap made basically for use on the face. Others may prove harsh. That is why, largely on expert advice, women the world over choose Palmolive for facial use. HE present generation recognizes charm only in Youth; with every daughter wish- ing, in her heart, for er mother to retain, above all things, her youthful allure. Most mothers know how true that is. And those who are wise in modern beauty methods know too that natural ways in skin care are the most effective known for holding back the hands of time. That means soap and water—a clean skin, pores cleansed regularly of age-inviting accumu- lations. Beauty experts advise it. Skin spe- Retail Price 1 Oh Palmolive Soap is untouched by human hands until you break the wrapper—it is never sold unwrapped cialists urge it—but always, of course, with the Right Kind of Soap. That is the important point. The rule to follow if guarding a good complexion is your goal So, largely on expert advice, more and more thousands of women turn to the balmy lather of Palmolive, used this way: Wash your face gently with soothing Palmolive Soap, massaging the lather softly into the skin. Rinse thoroughly, first with warm water, then with cold. If your skin is inclined to be dry, apply a touch of good cold cream —that is all. Do this regularly, and particularly in the evening. Use powder and rouge if you wish. But never leave them on overnight. They clog the pores, often enlarge them. Blackheads and disfigurements often follow. They must be washed away. Avoid this mistake Do not use ordinary soaps in the treatment given above. Do not think any green soap, or one represented as of olive and palm oils, is the same as Palmolive. And it costs but 10c the cake! So little that millions let it do for their bodies what it does for their faces. Obtain a cake today. Then note the amazing difference one week makes. The Palmolive-Peet Co., Chicago, IIl. KEEP THAT SCHOOLGIRL COMPLEXION — fe ee ee te

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Lupus climbed into its front seat he felt somebody back of him. Carolus had ap- peared, making no noise with his moccasins, and at close range he was wilder even than he’d seemed in the pageant. Circles of scar- let paint inclosed his excited black eyes. He stood on the step of the machine and pulled up his one garment, sewn with squirrels’ tails, toward a green sunburst on his mid- dle, and Lupus was awed by two snakes that coiled toward each other on'the kid’s chest. ““Gee, son! Who painted you?” “Roos Dodd,” said Carolus. “‘They’ve got her in the store. She’s all right. Gimme a cig’rette, dad. Say, isn’t that a hell of a statue? I mean sag “You meant just what you said, fella. Yeh,” Lupus mused, “‘it’s a sour pickle. Hey, kid, what’s this esthetics?” “It’s a kinda sense,” the learned Carolus said at once. “It’s how you tell if a statue or one of those things stinks or not. Some fellas can’t do it.” “Yeh,” said Lupus, scrubbing a fist on his ear, “‘but does a man have to be smart to work this esthetics, sonny? I’m dumb, but I know that’s a louse of a statue.” “Oh, no,” Carolus assured him. “‘ Lots of big painters an’ stuff are dumb bunnies. Mr. Paramore was saying so the other night. You’d gone to sleep in the hammock, dad.’’ He sat down beside his father and explained respectfully, ‘I guess you aren’t *xactly dumb, dad, because you're awful smart about lots of stuff. But maybe you haven’t any int’lectual direction. I guess you’re more intuitive than you are int’lec- tual.” “Yeh,” Lupus said helplessly, ‘‘maybe you’re right, fella. Let’s get out in front.” It was much safer to sit in the car before the drug store where intimate conversation with the prodigy was impossible. It was also interesting, because pop’s chivalrous advance on the platform had stirred Cou- veris profoundly and men came up to the big car, saying, “I see Mr. Van Eck’s in town today,” or, “‘Hey, Lupus, I see the old gentleman come in for once,” or, “Say, Injun, was that your dad helped ’em bring Mrs. Dodd inside?” The sackem was driven through Couveris on his way to the races at Saratoga every year and then, when there were no more horses running at Saratoga, he was driven back through the red town. Otherwise he stayed on his do- mains in the valley, cultivating horses and sarcasm. “This is the first time grand- daddy’s been downtown since you came home from France,” said Carolus. “When was he in before that, huh?” “T can’t remember, sonny. . wes can too! He had to come an’ bail me out the day you got born, fella. I got boilin’ drunk an’ rode my horse into the post office to tell the boys in there about it. Gee! That’s eighteen years ago—and a month. Bein’ a father sort of upset me. I busted my arm too. Pop came an’ bailed me out.”’ Carolus thoughtfully blew smoke through his nostrils and thoughtfully said, “Thaven’t ever been drunk. Roossays you feel rotten afterward.” “How old’s Roos now, kid?” “Twenty-two.” “How do you an’ him talk, Carolus? I see you sittin’ on the fence or pitchin’ a ball, but he don’t ever look like he was talkin’ to you.” “Aw,” Carolus explained, ‘“‘he kinda radios. He ’ Heslipped out of the car to open the rear door. Sid Paramore and Roosevelt Dodd were bringing the wan Mrs. Dodd through the press. Behind this group came the sachem and Mary, her hair glittering tremendously, and some officious persons who wanted to be near Mr. Van Eck. One of these beings—a gaunt, moist man—pressed forward as Carolus delicately shoved his grandfather into the front seat. “Can I havea second, Mr. Van Eck?” “Just about,” said the sachem. “Will you be willing to attend a public meeting to begin a protest ag——’”’ THE SATURDAY fESTHETICS (Continued from Page 17) Pop said in his drowsiest voice, “‘No, Tracy. I told some of you men last fall what’d happen if this statuary was lef’ ‘to Nate Cotton. Told you when you come out to git money off me for the fund. Your milk’s spilled, Tracy. You lef’ it to this jackass to git usa monument. Now, looky! Want to know how to git rid of this servant- girl trash Cotton’s bought for us?”’ The gaunt drawing master gasped, “But that’s what the meeting’s for!” Pop spat in the gutter. “Sure. Some of the civ’lized folks want to say how insulted they are over this beer label. It’s a hell of a monument for the boys who got killed in France. Want to know how to git rid of it? Well, there’s that maple tree. It’s rotten already. Git an ax, Tracy. Git an ax an’ I'll bail any fella out that has the sand to fetch the tree down on Nate Cotton’s piece of cheap goods. Git an ax. Set on my lap, Carolus, boy. Drive along, Lupus, son. So long, Tracy.” Carolus slipped into the car and civilly balanced on his grandfather’s good knee. Lupus sent the great car forward and the Van Ecks were seen all down Iroquois Street. Windows of shops reflected the passing flame of Mary’s hair. Boys in blue uniforms or flannel buckskins of frontiers- men whooped at Carolus, and Mr. Van Eck undertook to correct any pride his grandson might feel in the successful pageant. “T been scared the Van Ecks were gittin’ respectable, kid, with your dad marryin’ a preacher’s widder and all. But now you've beat an Injun drum down the middle of Ir’quois Street in nothin’ but a string an’ some paint, we’re back where we used to be. You was certainly a sight. It’s lucky we ain’t any fat in the fam’ly. If you hada belly on you, you’d ha’ been plain indecent. You looked fine, boy. I owe you fifty dol- lars. Come an’ git it when you got some- wheres to stow it.” “Thanks a lot, sir,’’ said Carolus. ‘‘ Roos painted me up.” “You got the hell of a ’magination, Roos,”’ the sachem purred. Roos, of course, said nothing, because he never said anything. He sat dumbly in the Van Eck stable yard and made whirling sketches of prize stallions and bulls while the hired men gaped over his shoulders. He could do you a picture of pop or the kid in nine strokes of his pencil, but he couldn’t talk. But Lupus was somehow sure that the lame, plain youth had a lot of sense, and Carolus said he had, too. “Mr. Dodd has a feeling for applied de- sign,” Sidney Paramore lightly stated. “The snakes were a good idea.”’ Roos said nothing, but his mother feebly brought out, “‘ Roos works real hard at his drawings,” in a weak little attempt at say- ing something. Then the woman and her son were silent until Lupus stopped the car in front of their neat house on the lane fringing one side of his father’s dominions. “Do us some pictures of Carolus, Roos,”’ Mr. Van Eck commanded. Roos nodded and helped his mother up the white steps. It was a relief to Lupus that she was out of his neighborhood, be- cause she stuffed his mind with some un- pleasant kind of emotion. He hurried the car away. “‘Isn’t that lad lame?” asked Paramore. “Cut four toes off one of his feet choppin’ wood,” Carolus related. ‘Say, he’s sore about the monument! Wow!” cried, ““Caro! Did the graven He did? Tell us what he image speak? said, stepsun!”’ Carolus said gracefully, “I'll tell dad, Red, an’ he can tell you if he thinks he’d better. Roos is kinda primitive.” “Oh,” Paramore put in, “‘is this the fel- low who did the sketches of the bull in your living room? I dare say he would feel rather bored with Maverty’s nonsense. Yes, the boy has something to say.” EVENING POST “T bet,”” Lupus yawned, “he’s got more of this esthetics than this Maverty would know how to handle. Hey, Sid! You been runnin’ over to France and back half your life. much bum statuary in French towns? After the Armistice a lot of my battery got drunk and went an’ mussed up a statue in the town where we were. I was scared stiff. But some French came and made us a speech an’ thanked us for doin’ a service to art. One of them spoke English as good as you or Mary. He said we were benefactors of civilization. It was a statue of a sissy kid holdin’ a wreath over a—what you call ”em?—a bust of some poet that got born in this town. It was a sappy thing too. But France is all bungful of art, and ——”’ “*My dear Injun,”’ said the learned man, ‘cheap sentimental statues are made with one eye on small-town officials. Sculptors have to eat.” “Supposin’ he can git his dinner for five dollars a day,”’ the sachem said, “we've given this Maverty two thousand dinners. I call it charity.” This made Lupus think actively of food, and he paid no more attention to the talk while he landed Paramore at the learned man’s country house in its grave, big park across from the Van Eck stable yard; and then his mind did not bother him while he helped Carolus through a vehement bath or during lunch in the paneled white dining room of the red mansion. A hot wind kept blowing Mary’s hair about prettily and everything was comfortable. But when Lupus had stopped eating ice cream the statue came back into his brain, and this caused a lugubriousness. He went out and put a roan colt through its first scene with a saddle in the big pasture back of the or- chard, and then found his wife reading a French novel in a hammock and made love to her, but his mind stayed unpleasant. “Here, Red, what’s this intuition thing?” “It’s the habit of reaching correct con- clusions without knowing just how you got there, darling. Wild beasts, savages and women are supposed to be intuitive think- ers.” “Yeh? Where do I come in, honey?” “‘Under Class B, I suppose,”’ said Mary, fooling with one of his brown ears. “‘Who’s been telling you that you're intuitive, Lupus?” “The kid.” “‘Carolus,”” Mary mentioned, “is too confiding. Perhaps it’s because you're only nineteen years older than he is. I hope the brute hasn’t told you that I asked him what colors you liked best, last year.” “Sure,” said Lupus, “‘an’ I ain’t got any fav’rite colors, so you didn’t get much out of ’at, honey. Kiss me some.” Then he went down into the stable yard and found Carolus and took him riding up toward the hills. Carolus had reverted to his normal summer costume of white cotton trousers, white cotton shoes and a scarlet jersey. He rode his cream-colored horse, Bullard, as if the big animal were a chair and gently whistled The Star-Spangled Banner in variations for two miles. It was soothingly monotonous, but it did not make Lupus happy. “This statue,”’ he said, made Roos Dodd sore.”’ “Yes. Y’see,”’ Carolus said, “he kind of idolized his brothers an’ this is—sort of their monument, and Roos painted Tom Seiffert’s barn to get some money to put in the fund, and I guess he feels kinda in- sulted.” ‘ “ought to’ve “I ain’t so dumb you've got to tell me | that, sonny.” “I’m sorry, dad.” ** Aw, shut it off,’’ Lupus ordered. “I’m sore. That’s all. But I ain’t as dumb as I look, kid.” “T know you're not,” said Carolus. “Well, Roos is awfully emotional. I guess (Continued on Page 143) How is it that there’s so | 141 ESKIMO KITCHEN MECHANIC Just What You Need PRACTICAL electrical device that will whip cream, beat eggs, mayon- naise, light batters, malted milk, and mix cooling drinks. It does its work smoothly, quickly, and economically and can be easily attached in a number of places in any kitchen. Carefully and durably made, it performs day in and day out, and soon becomes the most necessary and desirable addition to any family’s kitchen. If your dealer cannot supply you with an Eskimo Kitchen Mechanic, we will fill your order direct, parcel post, prepaid. Operates on 110 th 120 Volts A. C. or D. C. Current THE UNITED ELECTRICAL MANUFACTURING COMPANY 735 Logan Street Adrian, Michigan $7.00 East of the Rockie $8.00 West of the Rockies fat es \ 1 j arte 7 i ‘ we = (| | a

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(Continued from Page 141) artists are. He was pretty near cryin’ this noon, he was so mad.” “Tough,” Lupus yawned. “Hey! Rain tonight!” A dun worm of cloud was wallowing along the western hills to the windless air. Perhaps a good thunderstorm would help his mind to clear itself of the statue. But the clouds did not begin to be thick over the valley until six o’clock, when the red brick of the Van Eck house became a funny purple as Lupus watched it from the stable yard, where some of the hired men were pitching horseshoes at a stake. “Spoil Cotton’s fireworks,”’ said a freck- led hireling. “What you got against Cotton, Ver- milye?” “Ah, he’s a piece of cheese,” the youth said, and slung a horseshoe. ““What you think of the monument?” “IT dunno, sir. I guess it’s all right.” That was as much as these grooms and milkers cared about the thing, Lupus thought. You had to like statues or shapes and sizes a little to be annoyed by them. The hired man knew he didn’t like Nate Cotton but the statue wasn’t a thing in his life. And that would be the end of the com- mittee of protest against the silly monu- ment. Most people just wouldn’t care. It struck Lupus as too bad. He ate four helpings of chicken salad and was still sor- rowful when the panels of the dining room turned violet and Mary squeaked before the thunder clamored all around the house. “Tt’ll rob us of Nate Cotton’s fireworks,” Mr. Van Eck purred. “Don’t be so malevolent, Rain-in-the- Face,” said Mary, getting hold of her hus- band’s hand under the edge of the table. ‘But it serves him right if lightning strikes that infernal statue!’’ “No such luck, daughter,”’ the sachem said, spearing a butterball from its bed of cracked ice. “If folks had any sand some kid would Good evenin’, Roos. You got here just in time, son. You’d ha’ got wet in three minutes more.” Roos nodded, sliding into a chair against the wall, and was silent. Mr. Van Eck went on: “If folks had any sand these days, some fella would git an ax an’ drop that maple branch down on the statue one of these nights. = Boys used to do things like that, Carolus. Kids was tough around here once. When your fool father was a kid he an’ some more huskies got sore on a p’liceman that was funny "bout a lame girl walkin’ on Ir’quois Street. Next night a farmer down the Albany road run out with a gun full of shot, ’cause he heard somebody in his hen yard, an’ fired at ’em. But all they’d done was to leave this p’liceman tied up in a sack with his hair full of tar. Only the trouble was, Carolus, that your dad had white pants on. The Van Ecks,” he yawned, “are all vain of their legs. Well, your dad had white pants on an’ ” “ Aw, pop!” e and was conspicyous,” pop drawled. ‘‘He come an’ knocked on my door—sweet as a preacher, he was—and asked if I had any witch-hazel lotion for a hurt thumb. But it wasn’t histhumb. And the next day he walked awful lame when Judge Mangin had him an’ some more down to ask him about this outrage, an’ that was the first time I bailed him out. This shows you, Carolus, that white pants are danger- ous. Roos, I see that the kid’s got you wearin’ a red jersey. But don’t take to white pants, son. . What you got there?” Roosevelt handed over a sheet of draw- ing paper on which he had made Carolus appear four times by setting together some angular streaks and curves of pencil. It always amazed Lupus, because nothing was ever finished out, and yet here was the latest Van Eck beating his fringed medicine drum, and here he was stooping to rub an ankle, and there he was looking away from you with his squirrel tails flopping, and here he was sitting on the limb of the maple. THE SATURDAY “TI owe you money, Roos,” said the sachem. “You ought to be President.” The artist grinned very briefly. His mouth widened in his tanned face and he rubbed his nose. Then he was still again in his chair, and several displays of lightning made his blue eyes shimmer as he simply sat, his feet, in cheap shoes, crossed so that the marred toes were underneath the good foot. Lupus hoped the boy didn’t know that a hole in his faded red jersey let a star of white stémach glow when the lightnings came. He came drifting in this way, and sat and admired pop or Mary, and grinned when someone made a joke, but no words were expected. Carolus had divulged to Lupus, in confidence, that his friend was engaged to a nice girl downtown, but Lupus wondered just how this had been managed. It seemed that Carolus had driven the pair around some at nights and that he and the girl talked while Roosevelt held hands with her. But Roos would be in an awful hole if he left home or had to testify in a lawsuit or something that called for words. “We must speak to Mr. Paramore,” said Mary. “He knows all the editors and those people, Roos. He writes criticism, you see. Perhaps he could place some of your draw- ings.” Roos nodded and ran a hand through his brown hair, which looked black at night. Then he limped along with the family into the gray, high living room and sociably sat while the storm blew away from the red house and the farm toward Couveris. Mary and the sachem fell to chess under a lamp. Carolus sat on a stool between the caller and Lupus, and conversed about the effects of paint on the skin, about a female called Giovanna of Naples who had been married often in the fourteenth century and had been finally killed by strangling, and about Greek chariot races. Lupus felt that he was being improved in the best possible manner, and would have enjoyed himself if Roos Dodd hadn’t taken to staring at him. It was such a steady, interested kind of look. The mulatto cook came in with a pitcher full of lemonade, and then took himself off to his quarters down by the stables, hopping poois of water under an umbrella that showed in jerky, faint glows of the lightning, now so many miles away to the south. Roos drank some lemonade and went on looking at Lupus until ten o’clock. By that time Lupus knew that the fellow wanted something. Perhaps it was a little loan, or perhaps—yes, Roos wanted something. Half-past ten struck. Roos got to his feet. “Git Roos a raincoat, Carolus, boy,” said the sachem. Roos indicated by some motions that he didn’t need a raincoat and then slowly ac- cepted an artilleryman’s old poncho when Carolus brought it to him. He nodded and slid out into the limestone porch. There was no backward look. Lupus lounged over to the screen and saw through its meshes that the graven image was waiting. “Cooled off,”’ he said, opening the screen. At the other end of the porch Roos was a glimmer of moist rubber standing beyond shelter on the stone steps, water tapping his rubber shroud in delicate flutters of noise. “Sumpin wrong, Roos?”’ The graven image said, swiftly and pretty clearly, in a husky whisper, “Did p-people ever h-hold it against you ‘cause you'd been in jail?” Lupus scrubbed his ear and whispered, “Naw. But I was just in an’ out, Roos. And it wasn’t for nothin’ mean.” But that was all. Roos nodded and went down the steps. Lupus scrubbed an ear and looked after the shadow passing over lighted grass, and then merely stood listen- ing to the rain. It was this sound he had missed for a whole year in France. The French rain made another kind of noise, somehow, and he had not cared for its foreign melodies. This was his own rain. It fell on slate roofs of the house and stables built in 1821 and washed the red brick with a sleepy purr like his father’s voice. Leaves and trees and the sod of a hundred acres whispered and drummed gently under EVENING POST the flood. It was not sad, but it was solemn in his mind, and he stood there until some- one touched his arm. His father had come out, a shadow, from the bright room. “What did the boy want, son?” “T dunno. Asked if people held it against me because I was in jail a couple of times.” His father brooded. Mary began to play a whirling air on the piano of the grim, dark parlor where nobody ever sat on the pre- served velvets and walnut of furniture carted all the way from New York before there were railroads. Lupus had his funny sense of being quite inconsequent in a chain of Van Ecks, a kind of bubble made of red skin and muscles. The world was very old. “Gee, I got the blues!”’ “You big fool,” his father said fondly, and spat down the steps. “What the hell did I start this for?” “Huh?” “Shut your face,” said the sachem; “I’m thinkin’.”’ He thought for a long time. Mary stopped playing and came into the porch. “A little wet for the warpath, Pontiac. But the settlers will all be at home. Good hunting. Manyscalps! I’m going to bed.” “Tt ain’t late, Mary.” “Darling,” she said, “it’s half-past eleven. Good night. . . . Lupus, be sure to wash all the blood off your tomahawk and don’t let the papoose get into trouble. The police might nab him when the rest of the tribe is busy.” “What you talkin’ about?” “Nothing. The young brave has taken his raincoat and vanished. Thought you were listening for the war whoop. Good night.” Lupus followed her into the hall and kissed her several times in front of the tall clock. Kissing her cured him of feeling in- consequent and worried. He knew how to kiss, anyhow. Her hair came down in great welters of amber on her shoulders. She smiled at him in this dimness beside the ticking clock, and said, ‘‘Something is going on.” “Yeh. Pop’s thinkin’.” “He waved an eyebrow,” she said, “‘at Caro. Caro trickled out of sight. I sup- pose the sachem wanted him to go and scalp Nate Cotton or help Roos Dodd dynamite that loathsome statue or a “Gee,” said Lupus, “‘ but you’re smart!” “Thanks a lot. Oh, Lupus, you don’t think those idiotic boys will try to- to ——” “Excuse me,”’ Lupus said; “I gotta see pop!” His mind was full of colored lights. He went pacing back through the living room and into the porch. Pop was still watching the rain and drawing his cane to and fro on the stone under his peg. “Say, pop!” “Quit yellin’ an’ say somethin’, boy.” “Yes, sir,” said Lupus. “Yeh. You sent the kid after Roos?” “Your woman saw me,”’ Mr. Van Eck purred. “But what for, pop?” “He can maybe keep Roos out of trou- ble, sonny. That boy’s gunpowder. His father was the same way. He sets an’ acts dumb as a duck in hell and then he’s likely to explode. I ain’t bein’ funny. It’s how he is. He’s prim’tive, like Carolus said, son. I’manold fool. Had to go and let off steam about someone takin’ an ax to that rotten maple alongside of the statue. It could be done easy. I—Jimminy! How long does a man git in jail for destroyin’ public works? I’m sixty years old an’ I've played the fool, son. It makes me sick.” Lupus was scared. The drowsy voice had almost been harsh for a moment. His father had been almost humble for once, and that was awful. “Git the car, boy.” “Yessir,” Lupus said and ran down the steps. When he was told to do a thing, he could do it as well as the next man, and better. He ran down the driveway and into the graveled stable yard. But just as he rounded the end of the biggest stable, his 143 sleeve brushing its brick, he met a glow. The car was sliding out of the garage al- ready. It must be Carolus back of the wheel. It was. “Hey, kid, did you see Roos?” Carolus snapped open the door beside him and muttered, “Yeh,” as his father swung into the seat. He stopped the car. “Yeh. I saw him. He came out of their place. He went up the road. He's got somethin’ under his poncho— your poncho I caught up with him an’ he wouldn't say where he’s goin’. He’s gone down to town.” “He wouldn't speak to you?” “Well, he said, ‘ You get out of this, kid.’ And I couldn't go along with a fella that didn’t want me to, dad, could I? But I sneaked into the toolshed back of their place and there's no ax there. [ lit a match. And there ought to be an ax,” Carolus mumbled; “a pretty new one, ‘cause he drove downtown with me ‘round Easter an’ bought an ax. I remember that. He's— he’s awful emotional, dad. I ——” “Drive up to the house, fella,” said Lupus. He had a singularly plain view in his head of the two green lights of the police sta- tion’s front door on Iroquois Street. They were round, big globes of clear green glass and they stood on long iron posts that al- most reached the top of the appalling door- way. He thought about them and heard his father exchanging words with Carolus alongside the white porch. It was very difficult to think of two things at once. The green lamps distracted his mind and got everything mixed together in a kind of whirling suds. This was pretty bad! It re- lieved him to be driving up the road toward town. A draggled skunk was cleaning its paws with a rosy tongue on a stump where the highway turned. “They have a sour time,”’ he said. “ No- body likes 'em.” His father asked out of the back seat, “This statue your gang busted up in France, did she break easy?" “Yes. Pretty easy. A big guy named Haggerty jumped on it. It busted pretty easy. . . . Hey!” cried Lupus, as the car spun around, with muddy water splattering everywhere. “Blow-out,”” Carolus panted. The left rear tire had split grandly. Carolus slung his coat back into the ma- chine, and his hair became a black dome, smoothed down to his eyes, while he squatted or wallowed in the mud and Lupus lighted matches. Mr. Van Eck hung his blue shirt and wet face out of shelter and said in a brutal monotone, “ There's a pair of white pants gone to the devil! No won- der the laundry bill's so big. I was scared that long limb would bust this noon, Carolus, boy, with you an’ those kids sittin’ on it.” “It creaked,"’ Carolus said, struggling with a screw. “T bet it did. Lupus, you're to snatch this fool boy an’ knock hirn out, if you got to, if we can find him.” “Allright, pop. Need any help, kid?” “No. There we are.” But it had taken minutes and minutes to change the tire. As Lupus heaved him- self into the seat beside his muddy son again, the clock of the town hall began to clang over Couveris. It was midnight. It would be lucky, now, to have a black cat run in front of the machine, because that meant good fortune after twelve o'clock He looked hopefully ahead when the high- way became Iroquois Street and the first lamps of the town showed dismally among maples and rain. But the only cat he saw was white. “He could be there by this time,” Caro- lus said, under his breath. ‘‘ He's an awful damn good walker.” “You cuss too much,” Mr. Van Eck purred. “It runs in the fam'ly. Drive slow. . . . Keep lookin’ for him, Lupus.” Lupus watched. Carolus slowed the ma- chine and kept it in the middle of the street But there was nobody to be seen on the Continued on Page 146,

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| tree down, dad!” | he do it? | above the wreck- | leaves, shimmering || Judd’s drug store. < | Two big branches aes ‘3 | had fallen, smash- Bae tots 10 for IBF THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 143) | | sidewalks and any fool could dodge behind | one of a hundred maples if he wanted to | keep out of sight. “He might have come in some other way, “He might,” said the sachem, “‘ but Lord knows what way, sonny. This is as good as the next.” Houses were pale or partly pale shades among the trees as street lamps caught at pillars of porches. Lupus noted that Tom Joyce’s wife was pretty skinny in a rose nightgown, doing something to her face in an upper window. But Couveris was asleep already at thisend. Down by the railroad track and in the dives on Ivy Street there might be things stirring. Up here, where people who had some money lived, every- thing was dead for the night. And that would give Roos Dodd nerve to do his fool trick. When you were going to be a fool, night and rain made you sillier. And the kid had never been anywhere outside this country town. All his concerns must live as enormous in his mind. When you got away from home some, you saw that you weren't so big in this world. “‘Sh-h-h,” said his father. ‘Slow, kid.” Carolus decreased the car’s slow move- ment. Yes, there was a man on the side- walk to the left. His rubber coat flashed, far away in front of the high school. But wasn't he coming this way? He was. He was idling along and carrying something over a shoulder. But it was Roos. Passing under a maple, he came into the light, and Lupus knew his walk—the odd, hitching gait. And he was carrying an ax slanted up over his shoulder! “The fool,” pop purred. ‘Naw, don’t stop, kid. Drive right by him. . Lie back, Lupus. We don’t want to say we seen him or he seen us. The fool!” Lupus thought that Roos glanced at them, but he wasn’t sure. They passed just as the young fellow limped under a maple and its shadow blotted him. “The fool!” Carolus said, “‘ Maybe he lost his nerve, granddaddy.” “I hope so, sonny. Git along. along. Let’s see if he did anything.” Carolus sped the car for another block and a policeman in rubber draperies looked at the machine curiously from a bright corner. Lupus cringed, although that was just Ed Conlon by daylight, and a pretty good man too. But this was night, and the Git | policeman had power over malefactors. | And then he stopped thinking of police- men, because a kind of green froth glim- mered al] around the next lamp. Boughs and leaves made a high, astounding EVENING POST that had overhung the platform and the statue seemed cut by a saw. Mr. Van Eck stepped down from the ma- chine and stood gazing at this destruction while Lupus gaped. The platform had sagged under the blow, he thought, and its plane now seemed to slant. Why, the noise ought to have brought half of the town here! He got down and stood beside his father in a blank. The street should be swarming with boys, and women ought to be yapping lamentations. But only a sin- gle man under an umbrella seemed to care, and he was standing immovably close to the lamps of the police station. It was because he stood there chat Lupus saw him at all. “Run and see if that damn confectshunry was hurt, kid,’’ said the sachem. Carolus flitted around the ruins of the tree and the lamp. His white pants floated into the shadow back of the platform. Lupus scrubbed an ear with rain drops and mutely hoped that the mayor of Couveris had not made some kind of trap for visitors to this disaster. Were policemen watching from behind trees and corners? He shifted and glanced everywhere. “Your red-headed woman called down the lightnin’ for fair, boy.” “Huh?” The sachem spat and said patiently, “Mary said she hoped lightnin’ would strike, an’ it struck. She said it at dinner, sonny. So Roos came down with his little ax an’ found it wasn’t no good to him. An’ thank God! But I’m goin’ to be careful how I speak to Mary from this on, son. It looks like she’s pretty powerful.” “Think it was lightnin’, pop?” “Sure, sonny. It’d take ten men an hour to fix the tree that way.” “*T guess you’re right, pop,” said Lupus, and sighed. He could look down to the police station without a shiver now. Carolus came trotting, and his eyes ap- peared black milk pails in his muddy face as he grabbed his father’s arm. ‘*We—we'd better get Roos an’ stick him on a train for Canada! It’s just smashed clean in two. It ——” Mr. Van Eck said softly “‘Sh-h-h,” be- tween his teeth, and began to light a ciga- rette as a heavy pair of feet neared them. The man with the umbrella was close be- fore he had the tobacco smoldering, and his eyes were smudges of lash before the stranger spoke. “Came in to look at it, Mr. Van Eck?” The sachem drawled, ‘“‘Why, so I did, Nate.” It was the mayor of Couveris under the umbrella, speaking so timidly to pop. Lupus hung his thumbs in his belt and

June 11,1927 looked at the ruined tree because he wanted to laugh. “T dunno,” said Nate Cotton, “‘if it was the branches hittin’ it when the tree was struck or if it was the fall off of the pedestal. Doctor Heidel—he knows some about metals—came over when they sent for me, and he says he thinks it was a kind of in- ferior kind of bronze. But that don’t help any. It’s broke in three pieces.” “Three?”’ the sachem purred. ‘An’ can you git it mended neat, Nate?” The dim mayor laughed in a disconcert- ing way that made Lupus shudder. It was not a laughter he had ever heard outside a hospital. “Mend it? No! I hear you didn’t care for it, Mr. Van Eck.” Suddenly Lupus hoped that pop wouldn't cut the man deeper than he was cut and that he wouldn’t say much of anything. His father spat and exhaled smoke from his nose into the rain. “T don’t mind bein’ honest with you, Nate. It ain’t the kind of statuary I like. But that’s a matter of taste. But this is hard on you. I’msorry. You did what you could, and there you are. It’s hard on you.” “Thank you, sir,”’ said the mayor. ‘‘It is kind of hard onaman. And a lot of poor folks gave somethin’ to the fund and—that don’t make me feel any better.” Mr. Van Eck trailed his stick to and fro on the muddy pavement. Then he drawled, “*Git home and go to bed, Cotton. No use cryin’ over spilt milk. You stick a notice in the paper tomorrow that five thousand’s been subscribed for a new statue. Say that Mr. Sidney Paramore and Mr. Rousevelt Dodd and Mrs. Lupus Van Eck is the com- mittee for the new monument. I'll see the thing through, Cotton. Git home and git a night’srest. . . . Aw, shut your face, you fool! The town has to have a monument, don’t it? Well, go home! So long. I’m gittin’ wet.” All the way up Iroquois Street Lupus drove steadily and tried to think of some- thing complimentary to say to pop. Only there was nothing to say at all. And when the car tilted down the slope toward home it was the sachem who said, in a kind of grunt, “‘The poor fool! . . Well, Caro- lus, kid, you be good to your stepmamma. She might call down some lightnin’ on you, sonny. It must have struck right after she wished it would. And ——’”’ Lupus stopped the car. There were no lights here in the rain, save one glow from their own house. But a warm music rolled through the rain and the blackness, and Lupus gaped, listening to some rough voice chanting The Star-Spangled Banner in high, passionate floods of sound that

mass of colors and shapes back of the globe and its pole. “Tt’s the whole “Just some branches. How'd How,” pop gasped, “did he do it?” He had done something miracu- lous. One branch was heaped on the sidewalk back of the lamp-post and stripped boughs stood up in long wet streaks of bark age. The sodden bunting of the plat- form was hidden with this froth of in the light from the globe and from

were not musical but were more than mere music, a cry of exultation and triumph that echoed, echoed un- til the man passed | into some home | among the little | | farms. ‘*Roos,”’ said Carolus. “The fella’s a gentleman,”’ Mr. Van Eck purred. “T bet he’s just as glad the lightnin’ did his work for him. He has feel- ings. That’s what makes a man come to be somethin’, Carolus, boy, in the long run. . Say, Lupus, git along home, you fool! Your woman will be nervous for fear somethin’s happened to us.” “Yes, sir,” said

ing down others with therm, and the stub of the bough ORAWN BY RAY THOMPSON Blasé Salesman: ‘‘Won’t You Let Me Give You a Sample of This Excellent Piece of Cloth, Miss Jones?’’ Lupus, and drove down the hill.

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nearly a mile. When we emerged the search- lights again struck us, but we had the satisfaction of seeing the’ shells burst at a nice safe distance underneath. The LZ-98 was then passing the outer defenses in the northeast. A little later I was bending over the maps in the chart room setting our homeward course when Gemmingen called out, and looking back the way we had come, I saw a huge ball of fire high up at our own level. It must have been nearly forty miles distant and over the edge of the city. It was one of our airships, later found to be the SL-11, one of the Schiitte-Lanz craft, also built in Germany. The flaming mass hung in the sky for more than a minute and we could see parts breaking loose and falling faster than the main body. Poor fellows, they had no chance at all when their ship caught fire. We watched in silence until it was over and then agreed that we might easily have met the same fate had we not been fortu- nate in finding clouds at the right time. Even toward the end of our attack they had commenced dissolving. That probably accounted for the overlong exposure of the SL-11. On our return we held a conference and decided that raiding London at heights of 10,000 or 12,000 feet was no longer prac- ticable or justified in view of the improved defense. In the future we should remain at 15,000 or 16,000 feet. But then—it was in the autumn of 1916—some of our ships could not maintain such altitudes without considerable reduction in the bomb load. Instead of carrying two tons, we should have to cut it down to about one. That, of course, was undesirable, so for some time to come we were to remain away from the capital and visit other places where the defense was weaker. Out of Harm's Reach One of the most important raids against England was made by a fleet of naval Zeppelins during that last Thanksgiving season before the United States entered the conflict. It was important because it forced the next great advance in the im- provement of the Zeppelins. Owing to the low altitudes at which they were compelled to remain during the attack, two of the raiders were shot down in flames by British airplanes. Thereafter it was imperative that the ships be able to cope with this menace. ‘ The crew of the L-35, maneuvering about in the mist which was always heavy during the November nights, saw the destruction of the L-34, under Commander Dietrich. She was throwing bombs on West Hartle- pool and several searchlights caught her in the act. The artillery fire was unusually light, and this might have warned the officers on the L-34 that the surface guns were being held in leash to provide an op- portunity for an aerial attack against the invader. But it was then too late for Dietrich to heed such a warning. His ship was too low. Shortly after she had dropped her bombs the L-34 was seen to take on a reddish glow, and an instant later was en- veloped in flames. The British pilot who had scored the hit evidently had ascended at the approach of the Zeppelins, and he had been able to dive at the L-34 with such speed that her own machine gunners could not hit him. The burning Zeppelin fell into the sea outside the harbor of Hartlepool. At six o’clock the next morning the L-21 was shot down. Her commander, Franken- berg, apparently irritated to the point of desperation by grappling with the inter- fering mists and fogs of England and the futile groping in the dark for objectives, had determined to remain over the enemy land until the very last minute before dawn. But he had remained too long. Only a few minutes after he had crossed the coast near Yarmouth and had reported by wireless THE ZEPPELINS (Continued from Page 39) that he was on the way home, he was at- tacked by a squadron of English planes which had followed him out over the sea into the rising sun. The L-21, a Zeppelin of 1915 design, had no chance to ward off land planes built late in 1916. The loss of those two ships spurred on the Germans, and a few months later, when their new Zeppelins were in commission, the situation changed. It was not unusual for an airship to be riding swiftly and smoothly at a great height while a dozen or more enemy planes buzzed like a swarm of bees far below and behind, unable to make either her speed or altitude. In proof that the always imminent pos- sibility of being caught in a gale was not to be despised, let me chronicle the ad- venture of the L-38. The ship was a larger naval Zeppelin which had been assigned the same task, along with three other army Zeppelins. It was what the British then termed one of the Super-Zeppelins, though actually it was fast approaching obsoles- cence. The normal duty of the L-38 was to patrol the Baltic, and her commander had been authorized to throw in a raid on Petrograd at the first opportunity. Toward the end of December the L-38 was return- ing from a patrol flight into the northern corner of the Baltic. It was already an ex- tended trip, but on reaching the waters south of Finland which lead to Petrograd the captain decided to look at the weather in there and perchance reach the Russian city. Halfway on his detour he ran into a small storm which had not been registered in our weather reports because it was over enemy country and at that time the key to the Russian weather code was lacking. The captain of the L-38 had not even suspected a storm in that region. Still, it was not serious in itself. The ship had passed through many worse blows without trouble. But here after a while came wet snow. It stuck to the big hull and soon froze into a thick, solid coating of ice. He was forced to use more engine power in order to carry the heavy extra load. Consequently the gasoline in the fuel tanks vanished at a much faster rate than he had calculated. He had set a straight course for home, and at that would have come through in good shape had he not en- countered more ill luck less than two hours away from his hangar. He had been out a night and a day, had fought through high winds, snow and finally ice. It had been difficult enough to economize with the fuel. Then almost within sight of home he plunged nose first into another storm. Snow fell so heavily that it was impossible to see ahead. To make matters worse, night had fallen and he had to carry on in an airship which was weighted down with ice and which was not the easiest craft to manage. Guided by Radio To picture it more vividly, imagine a great hull the size of the S. S. Leviathan, inflated with gas and stripped of all save the bare essentials for operating and fight- ing. Ride a thing of that size through the skies in the teeth of a howling blizzard at night. Yet the crew of the L-38 rode their ship through the storm until only a few miles remained between them and the sheltering station. When he found his gauges registering the fuel at near the zero point, the commander very wisely made haste to save himself and companions. Slowly and majestically, as if she were simply coming to earth for a breathing spell before renewing the struggle, the L-38 settled in a field and everybody was soon safely out on the ground. As in so many other instances, there was no means of communicating with the sta- tion and thereby bringing help in a hurry. With the engines dead, the crew alone could not hold the ship under sufficient control on the ground to prevent irreparable damage. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST They had to let her flop against the surface, where she soon collapsed into a total wreck, thereafter fit only for salvage. The LZ-120 also had been designated by the High Command for action against Petrograd. She was the first of the larger Zeppelins of 2,000,000 cubic feet capacity to be received by the army, and it was felt at the time that she could raid the Russian capital quite easily. She was put under my command. My new ship had a diameter of about 73 feet and was 650 feet long, approximately the same length as the Los Angeles. Her six engines were the improved type which the Zeppelin Company had recently de- veloped in their Maybach motor works. The hull was perfectly streamlined, much stronger and lighter than the older ships. In fact, I could recount a long list of im- provements which had been incorporated in the new Zeppelin. Our new station for the time being was Jiiterbog, near Berlin. There, before pro- ceeding to the Eastern Front, we were to conduct a special series of experiments, chief among them being radio direction finding. In the past the usual method had been for the Zeppelin to send a message, and two or more stations on land would then check up the direction whence the message had come. By this system of triangulation the shore stations would be able to work out on their maps the exact location of the Zeppelin, and then it would be wirelessed to her. Technically it was all right, but in practice it was unsatisfactory. The mes- sage from the ship enabled one’s enemy as well as his friends to determine his location. For that reason I had never employed it in a raid until after the attack had been made; and even then it was rarely that I saw fit to use it on the return flight. The Balkan Campaign That cautious practice led to my ship being reported missing on two occasions. When we did not report for direction find- ing it was assumed that we were either down and helpless or destroyed. We were now to begin experimenting with several new methods which had been devised by scientists and electrical engineers. They were designed to enable the Zeppelin to determine her own position, finding herself without sending messages. In short, the idea was for the Zeppelin to pick up the messages from land stations and use them to chart her exact location. That system is now generally employed on all craft, surface and otherwise. But it was new practice then. Several ingenious ideas had been developed, and it was not a simple matter for us to prove to their creators that they were not adaptable. However, we man- aged to arrive at some promising results, notwithstanding the disagreeable weather It was in January and February, 1917 and the thermometer remained for days at a time several degrees below zero. I recall one day at Jiiterbog when all tricks for starting the engines met with failure. After several hours of delay we heated the oil to boiling point and put it in the motors. March found us in Kovno, waiting to set out with seven tons of bombs which were to be dropped on Petrograd. But the bad weather continued. It extended for weeks, until the revolution put an end to German activities on the Eastern Front. The fact that the war was still carried on in the west and southeast, is the reason, I am sure, why the valuable work of the Zeppelins in the east passed unnoticed. The world at large seems to have been in- formed only concerning the occasional raids in England and France. One of the greatest campaigns of the Zeppelins was waged in the Balkans, where they accom- panied the German Army in its first offen- sive against Serbia in 1915. A station was established near Temesvaér in Southern Hungary, and by November of that year ity rs a Yo * can't afford to wear sheer silk hose every day.” The woman who said that is mis- taken. She can’t afford to pay some outlandish price for a stocking that won't wear. But she can afford the most exquisite sheer hosiery—pure silk from top to toe--and she can af- ford to wear such hosiery every day. IRON CLAD NO Iron Clads are more than silk from top to toe. They are strength from top to toe—the kind of strength that gives repeated wear, and wear, and wear—the kind of strength which carries with it an lron Clad guarantee of satisfactory service or a brand- new pair of hose. Durabiliry, flaw- less texture, fadeless colors —the se are the things which make Iron Clads inexpensive to wear. BO/ 14,000 stores are selling these sheer silk Iron Clads If your dealer cannot supply you, mail us your remitrance of $1.00 a pair with a request for Style 807, and we'll supply u direct. State size (8 to $) and color (black, white, atmosphere, skin, champagne, blonde, grain, parchment, moonlight, rose blush, sandust, French nude, mauve taupe silver grey, Aloma, peach bloom COOPER, WELLS & CO. 212 Vine Street, St. Joseph, Mich. Lire Seep tw | Pa‘ ETS a ss Corns Vanish after this amazing liquid Acts like an anesthetic Stops pain in 3 seconds ght shoes, dance, walk in comf | pote Se. ind at once, you can wear ‘ us irivels ur Then soon the corr [ loosens Ask Ir tf { Satisfaction quaramceed “GETS-IT” , ie BIG ney as a Salesman World's t Way fastest train ‘ r \ now f luable 64 ge book LaSalle Recuten University, Dept. 671-5, Chicago rREI

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150 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST How one’s Wee Maybe Man + + heart dreams of this tiny precious fellow flowering into manhood—keen, courageous, clean. Maybe? Love and modern science, hand in hand, should leave little doubt.Ev | en from that insidious enemy—gostre—he can be protected. Au- thorities | urge using iodine salt as a preventative and health builder. Those! who really care will want to remember that Mu/key’s is the fine product! of three generations of salt makers—embodying more than labor, more than skill, embodying that rare quality, conscience. For All} Home Uses The Mulkey Sale Co., Detroit All » Grocers Also Makers of E 3B Butter, Salt, Meat Packers’ Salt, Water MULKEYS Softener Salt, Free Running Table Sale, Jack Frost Table Salt—each perfect for its purpose. lodine SALT the Zeppelins had available such facilities as a hangar, repair shops, supply depots, radio station and even a_hydrogen- | generating plant. The first Zeppelin to | make use of this station was the LZ-81, under Captain Jacobi. His orders were to make things disagreeable for the Serbs and the Allied troops at Saloniki, the Mediter- ranean port for Serbia, where the Allies had to land all supplies and reénforcements for the badly driven Serbs. The LZ-81 was to destroy the harbor facilities, blow up maga- zines, arsenals, ammunition depots and the newly erected quarters of the soldiers. Before Jacobi set out on that job, how- ever, he had another mission. At that time—November, 1915—the Serbs were still clinging tenaciously to bits of territory in the northern part of their country. The High Command desired to organize assist- ance for Bulgaria, which was then fighting | Serbia in the east, and also render similar aid to Turkey, which was fighting alone in the south. There were certain matters of policy and strategy involved, necessitating sending a German commission to talk things over with the governments at Sofia and Constantinople. There was no way by which the commissioners could get to Sofia quickly. The Serbs held the railroad which might have taken them by the shortest route. To take a roundabout way through Rumania, whose attitude then was doubt- ful; would have meant a delay of several days, possibly weeks. One morning Jacobi received orders to stand by at Temesvar, and a few hours later the commission arrived. The members boarded the LZ-81. She went up quite high and sped over Serbia through the night at the rate of a mile a minute. The Serbs were so surprised that nowhere had they time to deliver an effective attack. The Zeppelin crossed the lines safely, though some of the passengers experienced for the- first time the sensation of being under fire. The enemy took pot shots at the LZ-81 with rifles, and bullets whined about the ship, a few puncturing her gas cells and ricocheting from her metal rigging. It was old stuff to the crew, but the members of the commission were interested, to say the least. The flight was not so simple as it sounds. Serbia offered many navigational problems. Jacobi had no precedents. His was the first airship to cross that rough and mountain- ous country. Mountains mean turbulent air. The country was sparsely populated— a dearth of large cities and landmarks. It had never been properly surveyed. There were no reliable maps. At Sofia the crew of the LZ-81 would find no landing facilities or skilled personnel. High temperatures and humidity were not the best for an air- ship, because they kept her from traveling at maximum altitudes, especially when heavily loaded. And the LZ-81 was loaded. There were passengers and ballast. The distance from Hungary to Sofia and back was enough to force the carrying of so much fuel that the ship had barely sufficient lifting power left for ballast. The Ship and the Commander After that flight Jacobi had an even more difficult problem in his attack on Saloniki. To reach that port and return he had to figure on a flight under those same conditions for 1000 miles, four-fifths of it over enemy country. In spite of that, he would have made it successfully had it not been for the new-type motors—the same which caused me so much trouble during that period, and which cost the navy the L-19 and generally placed a serious handi- cap on all the Zeppelins during that winter of 1915-16. Jacobi made several attempts which in- variably ended with a breakdown of his power plant. While other airships might quickly procure even the most unusual new parts, thanks to their proximity to home facilities, this was impossible for the LZ-81 | because of her remote location. Finally, after a six weeks’ struggle against these | odds, she was called back to Germany and June 11,1927 the LZ-85, which had the older, less power- ful but perfectly reliable engines, was assigned in her place. The commander of the LZ-85 was Scherzer, one of the youngest captains in the service, and possibly the equal of any in point of talent arid luck. He had rendered an excellent account of himself while in charge of my old ship Sachsen during Hindenburg’s summer campaign of 1915 against Russia. He not only demonstrated his skill in navigating but by intelligent effort maintained the Zeppelin in a state of efficiency which produced for her the abso- lute maximum performance. It is with no desire to eulogize one of my former comrades that I dwell upon these traits of Scherzer’s, but because his work and success offer a fine example of how much can be done with a relatively poor ship in the hands of a good commander and crew. There are many other examples of how little a poor commander can do with a good ship. Scherzer’s first officer was Lieutenant Nippe, my former radio officer, an extremely intelligent youngster. Nippe’s marksmanship as a bombing officer had been most helpful on our early raids with the Sachsen over Belgium. When the Star Dims They arrived at Temesvar in January, 1916, and on the last day of the month set out with two tons of bombs for their first raid on Saloniki. All the obstacles in the way of weather and navigation were sur- mounted and the LZ-85 arrived over the harbor that night. Scherzer placed his bombs on the docks and warehouses so ef- fectively that the German airplane patrols visiting the scene two days later reported widespread fires still raging. The defense had been almost negligible. The A'llies were taken by surprise and could not prevent the Zeppelin doing her work efficiently. Eight- een hours after she had set out from Temesvar she was back without a scratch. But Scherzer was by no means satisfied. He got out his maps and found that if, on the return from Saloniki, he should first cross over to Bulgaria and land at Sofia for fuel, he would not have to set out with so much on his raid. He would have to take only enough to reach Saloniki and then Sofia. This would enable him to carry al- most twice the load of bombs. So on March seventeenth he again struck at Saloniki, doing far more damage because of the additional explosives he was able to drop. On this raid, however, the LZ-85 was hit several times by shrapnel because thick clouds compelled her to fly rather low. On reaching Sofia, Scherzer found that he had lost so much gas that the local supply would not meet his requirements for the return to Temesvar. This did not deter him. Taking off two of his four engines, he left them at Sofia, along with the greater part of his crew, who were to follow by train. Then he sailed back to Temesvar. But Scherzer’s star was dimming. He made one or two at- tempts to reach Saloniki again, but the weather stood against him. On May fifth he went out again and failed to return. The German Armies had advanced far southward in recent months, and Saloniki had become the objective of so many bomb- ing attacks by our airplanes that the Allies had thrown up an extensive defense system. During the airplane raids the defenders had received excellent practice. I do not know the exact altitude at which the LZ-85 attacked the city, but knowing Scherzer, I am sure it was not too high. When he ar- rived over the harbor at night he was caught and held by a number of search- lights. Within a few minutes the Zeppelin had been so torn by artillery fire that her life blood—the supporting gas—was pour- ing from her cells in gusts. She lost buoy- ancy so rapidly that Scherzer could not get her back to the first German lines, which were only a few miles tothe north. He had to land her in the heart, of the swamp lands along the Vardar River, which flows into the A2gean near Saloniki. (Continued on Page 153)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Made Expressly for” a particular car means that the size and type of AJAX Hi-Speed Balloons for that car have been determined only after the most careful study and analysis of the important factors that cause tire wear—speed, pick-up, length of wheelbase, size of wheels, character of brakes and weight of car. Car Makers Point Way to lire Buyers It is a trade fact that points the way to tire quality in no uncertain language. A motor car manufacturer’s choice of tires for origi- nal equipment carries great weight. Next to convictions derived from personal experi- ence, it is your best possible guide in seeking tire replacements. This is logical; because, naturally, the car maker ex- ercises his best professional judgment to equip his car with the product that will give him the greatest possible assistance in building good will. That is why the use of AJAX Hi-Speed Balloons as standard equipment on so many of America’s finer motor cars is of real moment to you as an individual car owner. It is a fact that you can use to your own advantage, no matter what car you drive, because AJAX Hi-Speed Balloons are made for ALL cars. AJAX Hi-Speed Balloons are deliberately and expertly made to meet the demands of modern cars and modern driving conditions, which include such fac- tors as high speed—dquick get-away—sudden stops —four-wheel brakes. The main reason AJAX Hi-Speed Balloons make driv- ing easier and safer under these conditions is a de- velopment in BALANCE, CONTOUR and DESIGN: "2s 2G BALANCE—Equalized weight and thickness of rub- ber and fabric around the entire circumference adds miles of service and makes for steadier, easier steering. CONTOUR—or cross section—a flat surface and more surface on the road—eliminates uneven, spotty wear and helps four-wheel brakes act quickly. DESIGN—Heavy rubber shoulders on the outside make high speed on curves safe—heavy center-ribbed construction developed from the racing type of tire makes steering easy—an ideal combination. Your AJAX dealer has Hi-Speed Balloons. Try them. They will help you get the most out of your car. AJAX RUBBER COMPANY, Executive Offices: NEW YORK CITY INCORPORATED Branches in all Principal Cities Dealers Everywhere ARIJAK -41-SPEED BAGLOONS

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152 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST "as *9545 for Six~-60 Roadster for Six~ 60 Sedan ! June 11,1927

SOCCTPSP AES OREEMETE REESE The very appearance of this new Peerless bespeaks its inbred quality. Those lithe, sleek lines—stylish, distinctive, low to the ground. That rich, flawless finish—the deep, soft-cushioned seats. But you must drive the Six-60 to realize what a brilliant performer it is. You must dash with it through flying traffic—and sense its abundant power in reserve.

Se a ri ‘j3- \<

a Pick out the stiffest hill you know. Then step on the gas. See how the road flies past. Or, try some rut-scarred, pitted road. How softly those long springs ride! How firm and steady the wheel is in your hands! Try parking, too. You'll never say steering is a hard job now—for the Six-60 is steered by a Ross Cam and Lever gear. This superb little Peerless embodies everything that’s best in automobile engineering. Try it out yourself. Then you, too, will know why it’s “fundamentally better.” PEERLESS MOTOR CAR CORP., CLRVELAND, OHIO {All prices f. 0. b. factory} PEERLESS

« s A “fundamentally better’Six that looks, acts and is quality F Reeves + of enthusiastic approval greeted this new little Peerless last month. For the Six-60 marks the day of a new traveling ease—a new kind of comfort—a new and truer satisfaction in a low-priced car.

PEERLESS . : ALWAYS S] BEEN ° ‘ GoopD .

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST design, of finest The traditional gift for graduation — the watch — must have it, in every detail of case design inside is your assurance of correct materials and workmanship, of that exactness of fit essential to adequate protection of the move ment—and, most important for the graduation gift, of style! Look for it when you buy. You are sure to find among the many Wadsworth creations a case ex re Collegiate '—synonymous with what is latest in matters of style! actly suited to your taste, at a price quite within Wadsworth For no generation has ever attached your means. Cases ae more importance to this one thing The traditional gift on this occasion is a good ; : - rae a 0 than today’s youth of college age. watch. Naturally, therefore, that is the gift your Tue WapswortH Watcu Case Company fashion a oe as ne own young graduate has learned quite confidently DAYTON, KENTUCKY--SUBURB OF CINCINNATI, OHI to expect. Case makers for the leading watch movements those who would select a gift for the graduate, one ——— whether it is for one just leaving college, or for And the degree in which the watch is in style one who is about to enter it. will determine the degree of pleasure with which your gift will be received. See that it comes in a case by Wadsworth, ac- knowledged style leaders, to whom for more than thirty-five years the leading watchmakers and im porters have looked for the dress and protection of their finest movements. Any movement you prefer, or any your jeweler recommends, probably comes already dressed in a Wadsworth Case. In the event, however, that , does sk th he on dresee d Man's watch with Wadsworth Improved Ben Hur Woman's watch with Wadsworth Diana Band. it Coes not, ask that it be so Cressed. Band. Band attaches to any modern strap wate! Band attaches to any modern wrist watch; expands For the mark "Wadsworth Quality” stamped adjusts easily to wrist; holds sec ure by safety lock to slip over hand; snaps securely to wrist. Men's size F Women's size in Amazon Model. Plain, $6.5 in Olympian Model. Plain, $7.50. Engraved, $8.50 Engraved, $7.50 Wa LASWUECITLL (2 MASNC MAK E WATCH & S Pea VTrter Yb

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 "1295 °1345 for Six~ 60 Sedan for Six~-60 Roadster bene of enthusiastic approval greeted this new little Peerless last month. For the Six-60 marks the day of a new traveling ease—a new kind of comfort—a new and truer satisfaction in a low-priced car. The very appearance of this new Peerless bespeaks its inbred quality. Those lithe, sleek lines—stylish, distinctive, low to the ground. That rich, flawless finish—the deep, soft-cushioned seats. But you must drive the Six-60 to realize what a brilliant performer it is. You must dash with it through flying traffic—and sense its abundant power in reserve. XN Pick out the stiffest hill you know. Then step on the gas. See how the road flies past. Or, try some rut-scarred, pitted road. How softly those long springs ride! How firm and steady the wheel is in your hands! Try parking, too. You'll never say steering is a hard job now—for the Six-60 is steered by a Ross Cam and Lever gear. This superb little Peerless embodies everything that’s best in automobile engineering. Try it out yourself. Then you, too, will know why it’s “fundamentally better.” PEERLESS MOTOR CAR CORP., CurveLann. OHIO {All prices f. 0. b. factory} PEERLES _A “fundamentally better’ Six that looks, acts and is quality PEERLESS - . ALWAYS BEEN * Py GoopD “

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 155 vy * « or? The traditional gift for inside is your assurance of correct design, of finest graduation — the watch — must have it, in every detail of case design materials and workmanship, of that exactness of fit essential to adequate protection of the move ment—and, most important for the graduation gift, of style! Look for it when you buy. You are sure to find among the many Wadsworth creations a case ex ee Collegiate ’—synonymous with what is latest in matters of style! actly suited to your taste, at a price quite within Wadsworth For no generation has ever attached your means. Cases led the more importance to this one thing The traditional gift on this occasion is a good : , . . vm eres than today’s youth of college age. watch. Naturally, therefore, that is the gift your Tue WapswortH Watcu Cast Company fashion ape oe poe mere ee own young graduate has learned quite confidently DAY wow KENTUCKY st Bul B OF CINCINNATI, O} those who would select a gift for the graduate, 00 expect. Senin eee is Cis tential whether it is for one just leaving college, or for And the degree in which the watch is in style one who is about to enter it. will determine the degree of pleasure with which your gift will be received. See that it comes in a case by Wadsworth, ac- knowledged style leaders, to whom for more than thirty-five years the leading watchmakers and im porters have looked for the dress and protection of their finest movements. Any movement you prefer, or any your jeweler recommends, probably comes already dressed in a Wadsworth Case. In the event, however, that = ¢ does t. ask that it be ireseed Man's watch with Wadsworth improved Ben Hur Woman's watch with Wadsworth Diana Band. GOSS NOt, a6 Oe OD Cee Band. Band attaches to any modern strap wat “he ; ratc ee 9 ’ 1s > wris ids secure by safe lock t Band attaches to any modern wrist watch; expands For the mark “ Wadsworth Quality stamped ad ists easily to wrist; holds se wre by : to slip over hand; snaps securely to wrist. Men's size : Women's size in Amazon Model. Plain, $6 5 in Olympian Model. Plain, $7.50. Engraved, $8.50 Engraved, $7.50 Wa idstucrthr (2 WSC4 | MAK E WATCHES SB EAUTEFP UL

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THE SATURDAY An inch and a half of a Barber’s Razor SAME \ BUSINESS EDGE | A 8 SAME RIGIDITY | Compare the Ever-Ready Safety Razor Blade {A} to the barber's razor {B} Both have “backbone”! Ever-Ready is re- inforced across the back so that it meets the toughest beard firmly—without quiver or stutter. There’s no “give” to it except the- perfect shave it gives you! Ever-Ready has greater keenness. It is ground to a microscopic edge by methods that can- not be used in making straight razors. 3 miles of careful honing, 1800 feet of painstaking stropping give Ever-Ready the keenest edge in the world. The uniform control of Ever-Ready qual- ity cures the bad blade habit—it insures 100% perfect blades to the package. If ever a faulty blade escapes our factory vigilance, we'll make good, gladly. EvER-READY will convert you to better shaving. A posi- tive revelation awaits the man who is too indulgent with the poor blades in the razor he has “always used’’. De Luxe Safety Razor, $1 complete. Mail us twenty cents, to cover postage, etc., and we will send you a miniature “grip-full of shaving needs’— containing the standard Ever-Ready Ra- zor with Ever-Ready Radio Blades, and two other shav- ing requisites. This is to prove claims and is strictly limited. AMERICAN SAFETY RAZOR CORPORATION, Brooklyn, N.Y. Sold Everywhere vandtiohly Blades EVENING POST (Continued from Page 154) After that there was nothing more to be said. For several seconds the L-48 main- tained an even keel—a great ball of flame riding slowly toward the rising sun, 12,000 feet above the quiet English village. Then the Zeppelin snapped to pieces. Her skele- ton broke and collapsed, the wreckage fall- ing stern first toward the surface. In the control car, which was now grinding against the framework, the occupants had been tossed into a tumbled heap. Mieth, retaining a sense of his surroundings until the crash came, said that the blazing mass hit the earth with a tremendous impact. He awoke in an English hospital—one of three survivors. A friendly voice was in- quiring, “Do you want a cigarette?” They told Mieth that an English aviator had crept up on the L-48 without being observed, and he had fired incendiary bullets into the hydrogen-filled hull just as she was getting under way for the quick flight homeward. Life on the Baltic patrol was for us both tedious and trying—twenty-four hours out on flight and then rest for a similar period. In flight the entire personnel had to be constantly at their posts and on the lookout during practically the entire twenty-four hours. And, of course, we could not—our nerves would not let us—sleep sufficiently during all of the day and night on land. As a result of this peculiar strain a discussion arose in the officers’ mess hall one evening that brought out some interesting views on the endurance qualities of the Zeppelins and their crews. It was the consensus of opinion that it would be better, from a military viewpoint, to maintain a ship on patrol for much longer periods of time—for example, 100 hours or more. We also concluded that the length of a fiight might be limited solely by the gasoline capacity of theship. I say that was the consensus of opinion. It was uni- versal among the members of our crew, but the other officers largely disagreed, for two reasons. They thought the motors would require overhauling before the completion of such a long trip, and further, that the men could not stand the exertion and strain for such extended periods. But the subject persisted in bobbing up repeatedly, and it ended in my decision to try it out. There never had been such a flight as we contemplated, so the test was worth while as an experiment. Within two days we had outfitted the LZ-120 and were ready for the flight. After taking on 2700 pounds of bombs, 6200 pounds of small arms, supplies and spare parts and 7700 pounds of water ballast, I deducted 5500 pounds for the weight of the twenty-eight men aboard and found that we could carry twerity tons of gasoline and oil—a quan- tity sufficient to keep the engines running at least 100 hours at reduced speed. The Endurance Flight We went up from Seerappen a few min- utes before midnight on July 26, 1917. The sky was full of stars. It was a beautiful night, yet it provided the most disagreeable period of the entire trip. By carrying all possible quantities of fuel and ballast we had started off with very little reserve buoyancy. As the air became warmer each foot that we ascended, the lifting power of our ship was accordingly reduced after leaving the airport, which lay in a hollow encircled by slopes. With the propellers twirling at full speed, we depended on them to carry us up and over a hill, and there were exciting moments when we did not know whether or not we would make it without sacrificing some of our load. Barely clearing the hill, we sailed past a house on the crest—right past it, not above, and only a few feet from the windows, through which the occupants stared at us in fear and amazement. Finally, with that critical situation behind us, we commenced putting things in shipshape order. I in- sisted upon the off watch going to bed, and they took to their hammocks reluctantly, for the night was interesting and it was a June 11,1927 different sort of adventure from the usual raid or patrol. Still, it was not a peaceful three hours that followed our departure. It was exces- sively hot and humid. Navigation was difficult because of a number of thunder- storms which lay in our path toward the western edge of the Baltic. All of us were glad when morning brought a light rain which cooled the air somewhat. Our life became regulated by a routine similar to that aboard surface vessels, save that the crew was too small to permit four watches. I had enough machinists, however, to or- ganize three watches, because, instead of running on all six engines, we used only three the greater part of the time, and oc- casionally four. Incidentally, it was our idea to determine if a normal two-shift crew could bear the strain for any length of time. So on the first two days out we stood our watch for eight hours and rested for eight hours; and on the following two days, as a counter-trial, we alternated four hours, then six hours. All methods proved entirely practical. The food consisted principally of the war- © time endurance rations. Each man was handed his share for the entire trip im- mediately after the start. There were cold-potato bread and sausages, a few hard-boiled eggs, chocolate bars, biscuits and crackers. The first day out we had hot sausages and a big, double-walled kettle of pea soup, with tea and coffee. Of course there were the usual bags of plain water. We had no kitchen, but there were two engine-exhaust cooking plates—one on the rear and the other on the forward motor- exhaust pipes. In the control car we had an electric hot plate which we used occasionally for frying eggs and warming coffee. Repairs While You Wait In fact, the character and quality of the food were more of a handicap than a help, because it was crude. The pea soup was ill chosen. That first day it made a bad com- bination with the sausages and most of the crew were sick with indigestion. All our arrangements were far from being what they might have been, even under war con- ditions; but we wanted to prove, if possible, that no elaborate preparations were nec- essary. And we learned just that. It is possible, with little difficulty and without too great expenditure of weight, to arrange for rationing all hands as long as a week or more. It is also true that though an elab- orate cuisine is not essential, a varied menu is most desirable. The same may be applied to the resting and sleeping opportunities for the crew. Our experiments in organizing the watches indicated that the details were sec- ondary as long as there were watches and proper relief. They also confirmed what I had learned on previous long flights with a reduced crew—that it is extremely unwise to make such a flight with only one man for each function. It can be done, of course, but the endurance of a human being is limited. There is no telling whether one will give out at a critical moment toward the end of a strenuous trip. I also found confirmation for the wisdom of the marine custom that the captain of the ship should not stand regular watches. I tried to put it in force on this flight, but on the rapidly moving airship there was always something occurring—something that required my personal attention, if only for a few min- utes, during the periods when I should have been off watch and asleep. As a result, I was more fatigued than the others. We cruised all over the Baltic in sunshine and rain, night and day. At times we ran into fog and thick haze, again we would spend hours in the clear sunlight; always, however, with a wind varying between twenty-five and forty miles an hour. Twice one of the engines, running irregularly, caused so much vibration that the connect- ing bolts in the fianges of the drive shaft were sheared off clean. Each time two machinists climbed far out on the propeller outrigger to set in new bolts. They were

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located at the upper end of the shaft at the equator of the ship. To make it easier for the men and to avoid the possibility of their being blown off, I reduced speed to almost nothing and did about an hour of free ballooning. The outer cover had to be opened so the mechanics could reach the outrigger and I could not resume speed before it was closed again. I must not forget to mention some of the creature comforts. I took a shower bath every morning except one, using a collap- sible rubber tub to stand in and a bucket of water rigged overhead. The bathroom was between the mooring gear in the fore part of the corridor on the keel, inside the hull. We had our sun baths, too, when there was asun. The gunner’s platform sunk in the stern was an ideal place. It was solid and spacious, completely free from wind or drafts and absolutely quiet. It was the only place I have ever seen where there was not the slightest sound except a soft and soothing murmur of the wind and a very faint, almost imperceptible hum from the engines. The top platform on the ship was almost as good, though there was some singing of the wind in the rigging of the shield set up to break its force. A Tour De Luxe We had changed the interior arrange- ment of the control car, providing one huge room instead of several smaller ones. The rear corner was the mess hall, with couches, chairs, a table seating eight, and with our flowers and pictures making it most home- like. Sleeping in hammocks in the corridor was most satisfactory. Gemmingen had his in the quietest place up forward. Mine was next to the ladder leading down to the control car, so that I could be there quickly in an emergency. We had no radio concerts in those days, but I had a guitar and some of the others had mouth organs or music boxes, and we played and sang while the good old LZ-120 moved softly over the sea, now standing off Copenhagen, then traversing the Baltic to the vicinity of Stockholm. It seemed that we could go on forever cruising about that quiet region. Of course, we were in constant wireless touch with land and, most important of all, we had regular and complete reports from all the principal weather stations, so that we could draw up our own weather maps fairly complete four times every day. So toward the end of the trip it was plain to be seen that another storm center was approaching. On the last evening out, as I sat reading one of the five books that comprised our library, theship commenced rocking slightly and the officer of the watch reported strongly increasing winds. It was time for us to be making for port because I did not want to put the LZ-120 through a severe storm after her fine endurance flight. As it was, we had to run at full speed against head winds for several hours before arriving at Seerappen. We landed at 4:40 o’clock in the morning of July thirty-first, 101 hours after our departure. And there still re- mained on board enough fuel for thirty-six hours more. It was the record endurance flight at the time and one that pointed the way for a much more important venture a few months later. Doctor Zupitza, chief medical officer of the German East African colonial troops, was taken prisoner early in the war and exchanged in 1916. On his return to Ger- many he reported that our forces in the colony were short of medicines; and on reading in a newspaper that a direct flight to North America was considered possible he suggested to the Colonial Office that an airship be employed to make a relief flight to Africa. The Colonial Office took the idea to the Navy Department, where it was turned down at first on the grounds that further experiments were necessary before such flights could be made. That winter, however, the L-16 had carried food and other supplies to an ice-blocked island in the north, and then came our record endurance flight with the LZ-120. A few THE SATURDAY weeks later, after my report had proved , the theory that both a Zeppelin and her | crew could stand the strain of long flights, | the relief expedition to German East Africa was authorized and I was asked to submit suggestions. It was a great disappointment to me that I was not assigned to make the flight, but this was offset somewhat when the authori- ties placed me in charge of some of the more important preparations. I arrived at Friedrichshafen in September, 1917, and found the factory was busy adapting to the special requirements of the long trip the naval Zeppelin L-57, which had been designated to go to the relief of the colonial forces under her captain, Commander Bock- holt. When the L-57 was ready she was flown to the station at Jiiterbog, and there we placed on board a carefully prepared special cargo. Before setting out, however, it was decided that Bockholt should make a trial flight, and this was undertaken in the face of one of the worst windstorms that struck us that season. The L-57, after coming back to land at her station, was dashed against the earth and completely | wrecked. The loss necessitated other plans | for the African flight. Right here let me point out that these new preparations in- dicate more than theories or conclusions the efficiency with which lighter-than-air op- erations can be carried on by an organiza- | tion fully developed and trained for the purpose. The wrecked L-57 was burned to prevent | the secret of the proposed flight being made public. We did not want the British to learn of it. They had already given our colonials under General Lettow-Vorbeck a severe drubbing. In fact, there was no tell- ing whether we would be too late with sup- plies, which, besides medicines, included ammunition. The Zeppelin Company was then capable of producing a new airship every two weeks, such was the impetus im- parted by the recognition of the naval branch of the value of the Zeppelins. The L-59, a new ship then under construction in the Zeppelin works at Staaken, near Berlin, was picked for the second attempt, and it was remodeled, enlarged and com- pleted for its arduous journey within four days after orders were received. To Africa and Return Commander Bockholt took charge of the new ship a few days later and, after storing his supplies aboard, was off for Jamboli, Bulgaria, where the actual start was to be made. With Dr. Hugo Eckener, the former director of commercial Zeppelin operations, and then chief adviser to the naval-airship division, I had been assigned to Jamboli to assist with the departure of the big ship, which was the largest that the Zeppelin Company ever built. Her size was exceeded only by the postwar R-38, built in England, which collapsed and burned on a trial flight, August 24, 1921. The L-59 was longer by nearly 100 feet | than her predecessors, having two addi- | tional gas cells and consequently that much | more lifting power. Inside her 745-foot | hull were 2,381,000 cubic feet of hydrogen. She was designed to carry a fifty-ton load | and her five motors were supposed to give her a speed of more than sixty miles an | hour. This is the load she actually carried: | 30,600 pounds of ammunition, rifles, jungle | knives, radio parts, and medicines; twenty- | five tons of gasoline and oil as part of the | forty tons of water, fuel, clothing, parts, provisions and weight of the crew—in all, | about fifty-five tons as a total load. The ship arrived at Jamboli on Novem- ber fourth. Her first start for Africa was made on the thirteenth, and failed because of poor maneuvering. Three days later, despite bad weather and storms in the Adriatic and Black seas, Bockholt again took off and commenced working his way through the narrow mountain valleys in Asia Minor, where he encountered thick clouds and thunderstorms. Toward night- fall he was fired at by Turkish infantry, (Continued on Page 160) EVENING POST The huge lifting cables used in heavy construction work, are armored for super-strength. Similarly, each strand of cord in Cooper Tires is individually armored with rubber. 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Still this soft rubber cushion actually increases the flexibility and roada- bility of the tire itself, Cooper Long Service Tires are made in all standard sizes .. balloons and heavy duty. The Cooper dealer in your town will gladly demonstrate how these long-life tires will reduce your tire costs and tire troubles. Tires offers unusual opportunity for live dealers everywhere. Write for DEALERS: The new Armored Cord Construction of Cooper Long Service complete information regarding the valuable Cooper franchise. trand strand is indivi ily armored for strength. THE COOPER CORPORATION Founded 1904 General Offices, Cincinnati, O. Factories: Findlay and Cincinnati, O.

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Im porters, Exporters, International Mail-Order House 2 Generations of Honorable Dealings” 3%65 WASHINGTON ST.. BOSTON, MASS. Largest Retailers of Binoculars in the World Gentlemen :—Send me $27.50 16-POWER BINOC- ULARS for 10 Days’ FREE Trial on the above plan. Name Address Clip end mail this Ade. NOW. If « mew customer please teil as something about yourself. We will appreciate and respect the informanon, THANK YOU S.E.P. 6-11-27 ¥ PS SASFANESFANFANFANFANFANFSANFANFZANSAYS Everybody who buys one bag of Planters Salted Peanuts is sure to buy another. Big, crisp, whole- some peanuts in glassine bags with the Planters name and MR. PEANUT on them. Get the gen- uine. 5c everywhere. PLANTERS NUT & CHOCOLATE COMPANY U.S. A and Canada PLANTERS SALTED PEANUTS THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 157) SUSE S| despite advance warnings sent to our allies | that the Zeppelin should be permitted to Far-Seeing Eyes! cruise overhead unmolested. Thus at- tacked by our friends, the L-59 was an easy target, and the Turks damaged some gas cells enough to compel Bockholt to put back to Jamboli for repairs. Finally, after further delays due to storms, the L-59 got under way on Novem- ber sixteenth, and headed safely on her | southern trip, passing out over the Medi- terranean by way of the Sea of Candia. | That night was a series of thunderstorms, | and the L-59 was surrounded by flashing | lightning, yet, notwithstanding that St. Elmo’s fire played about her metal points, so heavily charged was the atmosphere, the | ship was untouched. Morning found her | over the Libyan Desert in a temperature of | seventy degrees, a jump of thirty degrees from that at Jamboli. At the rate of about forty-five miles an hour the Zeppelin sped down the valley of the Nile and then * | erossed over into the Sudan. The plan was to arrive in the highlands of German East Africa and land at Makonde, the area where Lettow-Vorbeck’s troops were last re- ported. One of the crew was to jump with a parachute when soldiers were sighted, to prepare the landing, and he was to signal back whether they were friend or foe. But that second night, while flying at an alti- tude of nearly two miles near Khartum, | Bockholt picked up this wireless message: “Last foothold of Lettow-Vorbeck, Revala, lost. All Makonde highlands in possession of British. Parts of Lettow’s captured. Rest in north in bad position. Return immediately.” An Error in Eavesdropping The message had been sent direct by the Admiralty in Berlin by way of the Nauen radio station, Bockholt told his crew. They pointed out that the L-59 was then 2800 miles out from Jamboli and going strong. In their opinion the message was just one | more good reason for continuing the flight as planned, for it indicated that Lettow- Vorbeck needed their supplies and the help of the thirty white men who were aboard. To return would be a disgrace, in their eyes, and the end of an attempt that at the moment still promised success. To abandon the relief expedition then might possibly lead to the end of the German commander’s resistance in the colony. Of course the task would be more difficult than antici- pated, for the territory remaining in Ger- man hands was very small and vaguely defined. The L-59 might have to cruise around for days before finding it, and in the end possibly be sacrificed without accom- plishing her mission. They might be forced down in the jungle or in the midst of the enemy. And the enemy might have planes and might find the ship more easily than expected. Later a captured German officer reported that the British had, indeed, pos- | sessed airplanes and they had shown him | that they were ready for use against any enemy aircraft that appeared. Bockholt was a good soldier. He put the L-59 about and returned to Jamboli, achiev- ing the record nonstop flight, which was not surpassed until years after the war. In some ways it has never been surpassed. | The Zeppelin had been in the air ninety-five hours and had flown 4230 miles going and | coming. She still had left sufficient fuel for sixty-four hours of flying, and we calculated that the L-59, carrying a fifteen-ton load, could have flown from Germany to San Francisco without stopping—this in 1917. The recall of the ship was one of the most peculiar incidents of the war. The Ad- miralty, lacking direct information from the colony, had depended upon the British | wireless. When they intercepted a message broadcast by the enemy giving such a gloomy picture for the Germans, it was decided to call back the Zeppelin. We did not know for some time to come that the British wireless had exaggerated the situa- tion. There had been a battle coinciden- tally with the flight of the L-59, and the EVENING POST German troops had been forced into a re- treat outofthecolony. But Lettow-Vorbeck had not surrendered. A few days after the L-59 was turned about on her homeward journey the German leader had captured a Portuguese camp—having then entered territory belonging to another of the Al- lies—and there he seized sufficient supplies to tide him over until the end of the war. Lettow-Vorbeck himself doubts whether the L-59 could have found his troops, but he asserts that her arrival four weeks earlier would have been of immense assistance. He also believes, and none will disagree with him, that the German Admiralty mis- judged completely the political importance of the flight, that even had the L-59 been captured by the British, the moral effect in the colonies and upon the rest of the world at large would have been worth the less of the ship. We lost other Zeppelins under less significant circumstances. The British, when they discovered how easily an airship could be shot down by an airplane using incendiary machine-gun bul- lets, provided that it could get within, say, 300 to 500 yards range, were then develop- ing other means to that end. They were carrying landplanes on surface vessels. Seaplanes or flying boats were never a men- ace after the commanders learned to avoid them by flying beyond their reach. But there was a wide gap between the perform- ing qualities of overwater craft and the landplanes. When the enemy discovered that the Zeppelins could avoid their flying boats and pontooned planes, they immedi- ately adopted the land machines, and being good engineers, they perfected the neces- sary devices for using them on their surface craft. Late in August, 1917, they caught the L-23 off guard. The captain, Dinter, was patroling the coast off Denmark and early one morning sighted and reported a group of enemy light cruisers. Unsuspecting, he followed them at a moderate altitude, try- ing to learn their purpose. He did not know that on the forward deck of a cruiser a new fighting landplane was poised. He did not see it take off because the haze was thickening and the distance was too great. After an hour spent chasing the British ships, the L-23 was suddenly at- tacked by the tiny plane, which swooped down on her from above, and a few min- utes later only a few specks of oil and smudge on the surface told the story of a blazing Zeppelin. An Ill Wind for Germany Then, too, the weather very often proved to be Britain’s faithful ally, more especially when sudden storms swept down out of the north to catch the raiding Zeppelins un- awares. I recall an instance of this when early in 1916 half a dozen naval airships had been out to raid Middle and Northern England, and I happened to be over the southern part with my ship on the same night. A change in the weather was appar- ently imminent and the United Kingdom already at midnight lay wrapped in warm, ugly mists and low clouds. It was so diffi- cult to see anything that none of us could spot an objective for our bombs. In view of the threatening weather I finally gave up the raid. Likewise the other command- ers. The entire fleet returned home save one, the L-20, under Captain Stabbert. He had gone farthest north of all; in fact, he had been cruising around over Northern Scotland. When the storm broke, coming at him from the south, he found his ship lacking sufficient fuel to take her back to Germany. So Stabbert sent the L-20 east- ward, cruising straight across the North Sea to Norway, where the ship was wrecked while landing near Stavanger, and the crew interned. Without doubt the most thrilling and striking adventure of that sort occurred in October, 1917, when the British aircraft defense had reached its highest efficiency and the Zeppelins had to ride three and often four miles above the earth to escape the airplane attacks. This was a case of June 11,1927 sudden storm and an improved defense sys- tem combining to wreak vengeance on the invaders. Eleven naval airships left Ger- many at about noon on October nine- teenth, their destination certain vulnerable points in England. They made their re- spective attacks at midnight and then a majority of the commanders put on all speed for home, for they recognized the approach of a serious northern storm. Most of the Zeppelins were sent home on a course determined with a fair knowledge of the opposing elements which the storm held in store for them. But some of the others were either late in starting back or possibly less experienced with storms. Five of the Zeppelins were carried far south- ward. Instead of striking a general east- erly direction, they were literally blown south by a gale which blew in the high alti- tudes with remarkable violence. At day- break the occupants of the five ships found themselves over France and many miles beyond the front line. One of the Zeppelin captains sent his ship to an altitude of 24,- 000 feet, at which he succeeded in crossing the front unobserved and landing in Ger- many. The other four never returned. Saved by a Mountain The L-44 was shot down by airplanes while trying to cross the enemy lines. The L-45, L-49 and L-50 cruised over France in freezing altitudes of 20,000 feet or more throughout the daylight hours of October twentieth. The L-45 and L-49, when their fuel became exhausted, landed almost nor- mally, and the crew of the former were able to burn their ship before the French came up to take charge. But there was no time to burn the L-49 when she came to earth. Her crew were seized immediately. The French put a guard over the Zeppelin and there she remained until engineers had made comprehensive plans of the entire ship. The crew of the L-50 had the most amaz- ing experience that I have ever found in re- lation to airships. They had held out long- est in the air, trying to make Switzerland. They had cruised southward past Paris, then swerved to the east toward the French Alps. They had been in the air more than twenty-four hours, ten of which had been spent in maximum altitudes where they had to resort to oxygen to sustain life. Even with oxygen, the extreme cold and nerve strain reduced some of the crew to a state of helplessness. When the engineers in the motor gondolas had exhausted their oxygen they simply lay down and the motors rat- tled on unattended. The officers and helms- men in the control car had done their best to economize on oxygen, taking turns at the wheels, which they were barely able to turn for sheer want of strength. When one of the crew happened to re- member a reserve flask of oxygen stored in the corridor of the ship, there was none strong enough to climb up the short ladder from the control car to get it. Too ex- hausted to move or eat, helplessly cruising in a frozen void, and with the engines run- ning at speeds ordered by Captain Schwon- der six hours before, when he hoped to make Switzerland, the men of the L-50 were unable to control the ship when she headed into a mountain peak in the neighborhood of Dommartin. The machinists in the wing engine gon- dolas were either unconscious or dead, and the motors could not be shut off or reversed. The impact knocked off the control car and rear engine gondola, by that accident de- positing safely on the earth once again a majority of the crew. As they struggled out of the wrecked cars and gazed aloft they saw the hull of the L-50 soaring up- ward with four of their comrades aboard. Still in the grip of the north wind, the L-50 drifted out of sight, and nothing has been seen or heard of her. It is believed she crashed in the Mediterranean. Editor’s Note—This is the fifth of a series of articles by Mr. Lehmann and Mr. Mingos. The next will appear in an eariy issue.

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Evans & Co.,727 Ninth, Washington, D.C. | | uptown. | ishment was open-mouthed. ‘Allez THE SATURDAY away her existence in the four-room flat She had forgotten now even the drab, sordid moment when she had sat in the flyblown cashier's cage of that quick- lunch restaurant, Pabst’s. “You're worth it anyway! ley, crushing her to him. Bertha released herself. Charley?” “Worth all—anything,” he mumbled. It was not till a month later that she had her talk with him. ” said Char- “Worth what, xvVI MONTH—February. It was in Febru- ary that they moved again. A great deal was happening now. Uptown, Bertha’s life had grown more and more engrossing; downtown, affairs with Harnett, Gershon & Co. seemed to be booming at top notch. They were coining money, so to speak; though Bertha naturally did not concern herself with the humdrum, cut-and-dried details of the business. The suite in the apartment hotel, it had dawned on her, as so many things were dawning now, was, of course, absurdly out of keeping with the position she felt now it was her duty to maintain. Besides, there was another side to it. Having seen, as she had, that her husband's income was really trifling in com- parison with what other women’s husbands made, she knew instinctively that the one way to spur him on was to furnish him with afresh incentive. In other words, the more she insisted on having from Charley, the more, she figured shrewdly, Charley would be urged to make. Clever. Not all women are so shrewd. It is only the women who make their hus- bands succeed that are—and then, not all these. But Bertha had learned. He who rests rusts, she knew; and convinced now that he must be told the truth, the facts of his fancied success, she merely awaited the chance to tell him. However, though the rent of the new apartment she had decided on was almost three times what they paid for their present one, and though in burden- ing him with this fresh responsibility it was to be done largely for his sake, Bertha was still frank enough to confess that she herself had some rights to be considered. People were beginning to talk. It had been hinted to her, in fact, that if a man were success- ful—or, anyway, as successful as she and Charley had at first tried to make out— he and his wife didn’t live in any three-room suite, not even if the suite was in a high- priced apartment hotel. And then, too, this apartment hotel wasn’t so high-priced either. But Bertha got her chance. Rather than a mere chance, though, the happening that talk with Charley—was forced upon her. She never would forget it. “a Jon jour, m'dame. Vous allez bien, ‘espére?”’ It was Germaine, the _hair- dresser from downstairs, who spoke. He had come up to do over Bertha’s wave. “Tl fait beau ce matin, n'est-ce pas?" men- tioned Germaine. Bertha nodded dully. She had only recently begun with French, one of her bridge friends, a Mrs. Siebert, having sug- gested it; but though the lessons had pro- gressed far enough to let her understand Germaine’s brisk greeting, the allusion to the weather didn’t interest her. Nor was she more interested, at the moment, in the chance to exercise here new talent in the language. “‘ Vous pourez aller vite,” she said. **What?” inquired Germaine. His aston- ? Must I leave?” Bertha omitted further flights in French. “T mean hurry,” she said sharply. Though it was eleven o'clock, she still was clad in negligee, a robin’s-egg blue matinée. She and Charley liad been out late the night before and she felt fagged and irritable. What anight! Again she had let herself be dragged into going to a theater, EVENING POST CROOKED (Continued from Page 29) then to a night club, the people with them some of Charley’s business friends—and such people too! She had rebelled at last. “But, Bee,”” Charley had protested, ‘‘it’s our business!”” However, though she had retorted, ‘‘ Yes, and what a business!” she had not brought it toanissue then. Charley, she had seen, had been drinking —drinking more than was good for him, she had seen too; and she meant, when eventually she told him what she had to tell, that he should have a clear mind to grasp clearly what she said. Batting around with his dull, cheap business people was the least of it too. “Hurry!” she said again to Germaine. Germaine hurried. He was apt and skill- ful at his work; but though he occupied only a little more than three-quarters of an hour in doing over Bertha’s permanent, she thought the time interminable. She had a luncheon engagement at one o'clock, be- sides which there was an important sale that day at one of the shops. After the luncheon, too, she was due at a matinée, a performance of the Russian players. True, Bertha didn’t understand a word of Russian; and having seen one of their plays besides, she hated it. But Flora Beals had said she must go; everyone who was anyone was seen there. So Bertha had bought the tickets for Mrs. Beals and herself. After the play they were going to a new tea room a friend of Mrs. Beals’ had just opened. The luncheon engagement, though, was what set Bertha on edge. It was with Minnie Harnett. She had not seen Minnie now for weeks—Sophie Gershon, either and she had been tempted to decline Minnie’s invitation flatly. Charley, how- ever, had put his foot down on this; and as Germaine finished with her hair and she paid him the six dollars that was his charge, Bertha glanced anxiously at the clock. Al- ready it was close to noon; and helter- skelter, her irritation rising, she scrambled into a street dress and a hat and made her way downstairs. Fortunately a taxicab yas standing at the curb, and she hastily bundled herself aboard. As she flung herself back on the cushions she was more than ever annoyed. Why should she be forced to inconvenience her- self for a woman like Minnie Harnett? Still further, why should she be compelled to waste time on those stodgy nonentities, her husband's customers? ‘*‘ Where to, lady?” inquired the taxi driver. ‘**Hartman’s,”’ directed Bertha. The man stared at the sharpness in her tone. Hartman’s was on Fifth Avenue. It was an expensive shop; so much so, in fact, that even Bertha only occasionally bought her dresses there. But today there was to bea sale at Hartman's, each of the dresses a model; and she had reason in that to feel fretful. Unlessshe got there before luncheon, all the gowns would be picked over and the best taken; and as the cab jerked its way along, its progress halted at every block, it seemed, by the jam of traffic, Bertha saw presently she would have to do one or the other of two things. Either she would have to make a quick, hasty snatch at a dress or two or let Minnie Harnett sit and wait. It was nothing, of course, if Minnie was left to cool her heels; but then there was the matinée afterward. Two blocks away from Hartman’s, Bertha stopped the cab and got out. It was quicker to walk. Hartman's was crowded. There were a couple of other sales that day, cheap stuff mostly, the prices around forty and fifty dollars; and, her annoyance complete now, Bertha thought she had got there too late. To her relief, though, when she reached the part of the shop where the model gowns were on sale, only a few women were look- ing at them. The prices, it seemed, were still too high for the rabble of shoppers; and eager now, Bertha beckoned impera- tively to a near-by shopgirl, one of the saleswomen. “I'm in a hurry,” she said. “*Show the best you have.” June 11,1927 “‘What price, please, madam?”’ the girl inquired. “Never mind the price,”’ Bertha told her irritably. Then, just as she spoke, she started abruptly. At the other end of the floor, and coming toward her, was a familiar figure. It was Mrs. Hodge, and Bertha caught her breath as she saw Mrs. Hodge’s face. Her features convulsed literally, Mrs. Hodge was glowering. The glare, though, was not for Bertha. She had thought so for an instant; but, as it proved, Mrs. Hodge had not so much as seen Bertha. A dozen or so paces ahead, a young and attractive if somewhat flashily dressed woman was crossing the shop; and as she turned to pass along one of the aisles, Mrs. Hodge, too, turned with her. Then Bertha saw what was taking place. The one woman, the younger and better-looking, was being followed by the other, and of the animus and hatred that fired the pur- suing woman there could be no doubt. Bertha for the moment forgot all else. She forgot even the trim, exquisite model gown the salesgirl was holding up for her ap- proval. “Chic, madam. A Paris model, and only a hundred dollars in price.” Bertha did not so much as hear her. Fascinated, her eyes riveted on Mrs. Hodge and the other woman, she watched, wait- ing. She did not have long to wait. Half- way along the aisle Mrs. Hodge overtook her quarry, and seizing the woman by the arm she said something under her breath. It was not so far beneath her breath, though, that Bertha could not hear it; and she winced, shocked. It was almost as if she herself, not the other woman, had been the victim. As for the victim herself, she turned white, then scarlet. The next in- stant, her effrontery coming to her aid, she flung back her head and éaughed, the laugh derisive. Then, too, she said something, the speech unmentionable. Bertha gasped aloud. She had heard the remark, every word of it. It was a taunt, a brazen, shameful affront. In not more than a mere half dozen words, it scathed and scarified the woman at whom it was di- rected, Mrs. Hodge, so that she stood there livid, her face purple first, then white. With a mocking, derisive laugh, the other woman turned and walked on down the aisle out of sight. Clinging to a table, Mrs. Hodge looked as if she were about to be hit by a stroke. Bertha could hear her mumbling to herself. “Hussy! Wanton!’ Mrs. Hodge was say- ing to herself, her figure swaying. Bertha sped toward her. She had heard what had been said, and she had seen the woman too. And about the woman's looks, though she was ordinary enough in her ap- pearance, was that something that always is a disclosure in such women. But Bertha was not thinking of that. She reached the tottering figure beside the table just as it swayed again, and compassionately Bertha flung an arm about her. ‘*Mrs. Hodge!”’ she cried. Mrs. Hodge looked up dully. Then recognition dawned in her eyes and a flood of crimson rushed up under her skin. ‘“Say,”’ she uttered thickly, ‘were you listening?”’ 3ertha tightened her arm about Mrs. Hodge's shoulders. She gave the shaking, tottering woman a little comforting pat on the arm. ‘“‘You mustn’t think of that. I wasn’t listening—I just was where I couldn't help but hear. Are you all right? Can't I get you a drink of water?” A couple of shopwomen had seen Mrs. Hodge’s condition. They came toward them hesitantly, but Bertha waved them away. Mrs. Hodge was speaking again: “TI couldn't stand it. It got my grit. I've known about it a long while now; but when I saw her this morning I lost my head. She was spending his money, the money I helped Hodge make—I! Only this never would of Continued on Page 164)

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Punch or drilla FIG. | ole asin Fig. 1 rT pie-ce ahole as in Fig. 2 ' Harder extensively ed Selt-Tapping She by makers mobile accessories, railway cars metal buildings, metal furniture \ nd furnaces, metal windo. nices, skylight lv or Screws ished in sizes to suit all PARKER-KALON CORPORATION 350 West New York PARKER-KALON HARDENED SELF-TAPPING Sheet Metal Screws requirements 13th Street | 2nd. Turn in the Scr witha scre river. } | w Roan id FREE Samples urkable Screws. Their Tell us what will send l amaze you. fasten and we experiment together rmation ” - i EVENING POST Continued from Page 162 happened if he hadn’t gone crooked. It’s this way always when they are.” Bertha gasped “Crooked?” Mrs. Hodge nodded dully. ‘‘ Hodge men like him—if they ec’n get away with it in business, they think they e’n get away with iteverywheres. She used to be Hodge’s typewriter. Secretary, he called her.” Bertha was horrified. ‘‘Oh, yeah,’’ mum- bled Mrs. Hodge. Then she began to weep, the tears eroding the heavy layer of powder on her wrinkled, crépelike skin. “There, there, Mrs. Hodge!’’ consoled Bertha. With difficulty she got the shaking, weeping woman into the store elevator and down to the street floor. Here she still had more difficulty in finding Mrs. Hodge's fa- mous landaulet. It took at least fifteen minutes to pick it out from the jam of cars parked in the neighboring side streets; and when she got back to the shop Mrs. Hodge was on the verge of a collapse. She looked infinitely old—-beaten too—and an occa- sional tear still crept out from under her heavy, crinkled eyelids. ‘‘Come and see me, won’t you?”’ she begged pathetically as Bertha tucked her in under the lap robe. Bertha said she would. Afterward she did not go back shop. She had forgotten the dress sale; and she had forgotten, too, the luncheon en- gagement with Minnie Harnett until a clock striking one warned her she must hurry. Beckoning to a cab, she got into it and gave the driver the direction. Then, as the cab picked its way out of the traffic and headed northward toward the restaurant where she was to meet Minnie, Bertha sat back against the cushions, her face ab- sorbed, a little pucker on her brows. Crooked? Of course she could thank God, Bertha piously told herself, that her own husband was not like Hodge. Charley never would go crooked, she could be sure. He had no reason to do so, in the first place. She wished, however, she had thought to ask Mrs. Hodge that woman's name. Charley, though, would know about her. She wondered whether Charley ever had known the woman. The thing was still in her mind when she reached the restaurant. The place was one of the usual small and select Park Avenue resorts Bertha patronized nowadays; and, in passing, she always would remember the thrill it had given her the first time the head waiter, recognizing her, had called her by her name. In the lobby Minnie Harnett was waiting. She a towering ill humor, too, at having been made to wait “Say, who do you think you are any- way?’ she demanded adding, ‘You're pretty high hat s, aren't you?” Bertha was too preoccupied to resent ‘I couldn't she appeased ‘You'd better be!”’ snapped Minnie The storm that threatened to become a tempest tur ‘ned out, The restaurant was new to in spite of herself into the was in nowaday help being late-——I'm sorry however, to be merely a passing flaw Min; its patrons were manifestly of a se ar ae when the head waiter, ol lected class; ) sequiously smiling and deferential, Bertha by name, and then ushered her to one of the best tables in the Minnie was impressed. ‘‘Say,”’ sl preciatively, “‘you called room, even e said ap must blow a lotta money in here, the way that fellow scraped and bootlicked a couple of life savers?” Bertha . Tw 0, Could you work him for caught the head waiter’s eye Antoine,’ she directed ‘Mar- nis She felt she needed someth ng listen,’ said Minnie to the man, a highball afterward.” ‘Plain, or h arbonated madam?” ‘Make Jertha dispensed with the highball. seldom drank, an occasional cocktail out C- gy her. Then, too, she — red highballs for women vulgar, though s cerned in what Minn ie she arr } hardly water M nnie t Seltzer,”” said ot con- curiously absorbed, t June 11,1927 hattering in her usual haphazard, high-speed manner and Curiously, too, when she tried to herself to scan the menu the waiter gave her, the printed lines slid elusively from under her eyes. She could not con centrate. She could not fix her attentior on even so slight a task as the ordering of the luncheon. It was not until sl Minnie talking loudly and volubly to thi waiter that she awoke. Minnie had undertaken offhand to order the entire luncheon. Bertha hurriedly i: terrupted her. “‘Corned-beef hash?” sh interrogated. ‘Browned, a poach’ egg on top, and French frieds,’’ said Minnie. Bertha glanced about her. The peopl at the next table were listening, a faint smile on their faces; and she colored faint though Minnie and Minnie’s crudities wer the least of her concerns. “I don’t want corned-beef hash,”’ she said. “T do—I’m starved,” declared Minni and she turned again to the waiter. “And say, garsong, fetch me a large cup of coffe with the meal. I'll take punkin pie and a side order of cheese for the last.’ Bertha ordered for herself a cup of cor sommé, a cold squab and escarole salad, the squab boned. ‘En gelée, Minnie, who now was « voice, force ie heard madame ?”’ “Quelle espéce de gelée?”’ Aspic, s’il vous plait, madame.” ‘Bien,’ managed Bertha. The smile at the next table waned. It was replaced with a mild look of wonder that and an appraising side glance Minnie. Bertha, though, did not want the squa she had ordered. For that matter, she d not want even the consommé. It was queer in fact, how of a sudden, and for so remo and impersonal a reason as the happer that morning, her mind had all at onc filled itself with a diffuse and kaleidoscoy confusion of thoughts. Toward the end the luncheon she abruptly interrupt Minnie in the midst of something Min: was saying ‘Minnie, have you been dow: town I mean, in your husband’s offic Minnie nodded. ‘‘Have French frieds, Bertha cook them here. You thing.” “What are the offices | Minnie?” Minnie idly shrugged. ‘Oh, I dunn Just regular office iven’t you ¢ been there?” 3ertha hadn’t. There was a questior however, she though she hadn’t framed as yet the way she wished t ever some of the They certainly car ain't eating al wisned to ask, put it. She could not bolt out with it garly direct and disclosing. ‘“‘Do you yo teat often?”’ she as ced Minnie again hunched her shoulders ir differently. “‘Once every now and ther She grinned. ‘‘ Harnett says I’: only I don’t ra somet! maybe.” to keep away from there Whenever I need a little ext to spend I pop dowr make him come but he knows now I’m wise ‘Wise?”’ Bertha felt her heart thr ‘*What do you mean— wise?” Minnie helped herself to a fresh of the potatoes. “‘You ought to knov You've tumbled, haven’t you? Your } band’s in it just as much as mine is there on him ar across. He gets sore, course, porti ! Gershon too,” During it Bertha sat rigid. She could feel her skin turn hot ar There was a pause moist by turns. She did not believe and appalled, her ey e stared at Minnie Harnett. WI What sordid indifference! Shi of all that, the , tranqu Then, as yet —she could not; fixed, s callousness! wondered how, in the face woman could sit there like this gorging herself with food. dream, she heard Minnie speak, her word drawling: ‘‘Nothin’ to me wi Harnett does. It’s up to him to keep o of trouble. Anyways, I guess the firr business ain't different from most bt lac onic, nesses.” “What?” excel Continued on Page 167 iimed Bertha

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Continued from Page 164 Her mouth was open. She was frankly bewildered. Business? She had said noth- ing of that, and her dull wonder was such that Minnie Harnett saw it. “‘Say, what’s wrong with you, anyways? All through lunch you’ve been acting kind of queer. Has something happened, or what?”’ Of a sudden a look of acute suspicion hardened in her eyes. “‘See here now, it isn’t any- thing about downtown, is it the firm? I want to know, you hear? Charley hasn't let on they're going to bust, has he?” Bust? Bertha had a fresh shock, a sud- den stab of fear. She exclaimed swiftly, ‘They're not, are they?”’ She had, however, an instant feeling of relief, a release, om her trep- idation when Minnie spoke. “I was asking you,” said Minnie. Said Minnie then: ‘If they bust downtown, I’m going to light out. You don’t catch me hanging around!” ‘You mean you'd leave your husband?” ejaculated Bertha. ‘You watch me!” firmly. Startled, Bertha shook herself together. saw how far the talk had gone astray. Of course, as she knew, with all the money that was coming in, there could be no reason to worry that. It was ridicu- lous; and affecting lightly to laugh, in a few words she told Minnie of the morning's happening; though Minnie, it was to be seen, hardly listened, her mind, it was clear, still fixed on the suspicion that Bertha’s husband had told Bertha something she now was withholding. ‘“‘Mrs. Hodge, you say?"’ Minnie mumbled. ‘‘Who’s Mrs Hodge?” Bertha told her. other woman and what Mrs. Hodge had said of her. Then she repeated Mrs Hodge’s other remark, her conclusion about men--business men. “She seems to think,” laughed Bertha, “that if a man is crooked in business he gets crooked ev ery Way too.”’ Minnie spoke. was right,” said Minnie; ‘“‘they do.” *What?” exclaimed Berthe spoke. “You say carry on?” Minnie grinned. ‘‘ My, but you're young! How old are you, anyways?" Then, though still grinned, Minnie’s hardened. ‘‘Harnett has —he’d tomorrow if I didn’t have the business and if he wasn’t scared I'd squeal. It’s the same with Gershon. Sophie knows, and she was going to kick up a row till I ” on that score fr Minnie nodded She over She told, too, of the “She She gasped as she pets do go ( rooked face quit me goods on his she stopped her. ‘Oh, my soul!” whi She spered Bertha. could not believe it. She had never liked Harnett, nor had she ever been over- fond of Gershon; but that they should be leading the life Minnie intimated they were leading somehow seemed incredible. Rigid again, listened to Minnie ramble on: “IT told Sophie not to bea fool. If she made a row, Gershon would quit, leave her flat, and | asked her where she 'd be then. ‘You know what the courts are, Sophie,’ I told her. ‘Why, you’d be months, maybe, be- fore you so much as got a cent of alimony! Better take what you can get while the getting’s good, honey Horror and distaste struggled together in Bertha’s mind. The callous, material pl ile sophy of Minnie’s words escaped her instead, behind it all was her own situation. could not bel yet—or dare yet to believe--that in any way her affairs as a wife paralleled theirs. e luncheon now ring an end, Minnie’s outlandish dessert, the pumpkin pie, had been set be- fore her; and, her appetite for it unim- paired, Minnie had just forked herself a liberal mouthful when Bertha managed to speak. It couldn't be so. It was beyond belief. Charley ‘Minnie, tell me the truth. know. Your husband—mine too they make money isn’t wrong?” ‘Wrong?’ With an effort, Minnie she one leve Was nee I’ve got to the way bolted her mouthful of pumpkin and crust. ‘Crooked, do you mean?” When Bertha, with an effort, nodded slowly Minnie stared. Then she laid down THE SATURDAY “Well, f simply, her tone one of wonder ‘Is it, Minnie?’ “What did you think? Bertha didn’t know. thought of it — not particularly, That was not the point though. ey made their money that had hing to do with it. It was, instead, the would have. Bertha illy to get her question into from her bluntly. There wis no evasion or beating about the bush However, though Minnie Harnett seemed to take it as a matter of course, she was unable to supply the facts. She didn't know, hadn't heard. ‘Just the same,” said Minnie her fork. r Pete’s sake!” she said ed Minnie. never had at any rate. It was not ” inquir She way tl effect the crookedness managed fin: words. It came now and she ‘I'd keep an eye on him! It was Charley Maddox she meant. Crooked! All that afternoon the word and all it evoked ran like a mill race through her head. It was there when she took a cab to the theater, where she was to meet Mrs. Beals. Afterward, throughout the matinée, it interwove itself into the it and meaningless gibberish She was perhaps ! what awaited her when she finally quit Mrs. Beals at the tea room and took a taxicab back to the apartment hotel. ‘Ilas Mr. Maddox come in asked the clerk at the desk ‘Not yet, madam,” the clerk replied. He handed Bertha her key. She was turning away when the clerk spoke again: is a young woman waiting to see grandiloquer spouted from the stage. ready, as sult, for * she yet?’ “There Mr. Madd Mrs. Maddox. She is in the reception room. She has been there for several hours.” Bertha did not even start. She knew in- stinctively, however, who that waiting the lying in wait for usband Brazen It was to be ex- pected There must be no there, though, in her home. “Thank you,” and walk- faced the must be one woman her } be | scene Bertha said calmly to the clerk; ing into the reception room, she woman she found there. The woman was young, slender and, in an exotic foreign way, good-looking. She } was well dressed, too, though more quietly “You are wait- What is it you a had expected. Maddox? n Berth ing for Mr. * demanded Bertha. wis! [The young woman rose impulsively Manifestly she was a little startled. Ber- iarsh, contemptuous. The ver, seemed presently air of startled concern, and she spoke hurriedly, her voice low and musical. “I wish, ye Mr. Maddox. It is of great importance. I have been wait- tha’s tone woman, hi to overcome her firs young s, to see in nd a long time now,” she said; and putting a hand on her breast, she wet her lips. “ Will you tell me to whom it is I am speaking?” she asked Id her. Into the , too, she scorn and the accusation the Berthat answer put all the answer, as she thought, involved. ‘I am his wife,”’ said Bertha. His wife indeed! It was a reply, she felt, that should stagger any but the most brazen. But though it did not, she was determined not to take any part such as Mrs. Hodge that day had taken in a shameful, shameless and her lip curling, she was about to demand the woman’s name, then leave the room, when the girl gave a cry. ‘His wife? Then you will speak with me!” She clasped her hands together, and the tears all at once welling in her eyes, she took a step toward Bertha. Bertha put up a hand tostop her. ‘‘ What scene; is your name?” she demanded harshly; and, her breath faltering, the girl told her. ‘I am Hester Baronov, madam. You are his wife, and you will listen. 1 we She began to weep deeply, fit- fully. “‘It is because of him the ruin comes, 9” you will hear me had her hand on the door. Tell my husband and you, his wife, Bertha already “IT do not care to listen. if you like,”’ she said. ed the door behind her and walked Her voice, too, was She clos steadily along the hall. EVENING POST steady when she spoke to the rk at the desk. Even she was a little wondering at her own calmness and poise, especially in a mo- ment of such provocation. ‘As soon as mj husband comes ir said Bertha, “say to him that I wish to see him.” Then, still steady, Bertha went upstairs to wait xVIl NIX o'clock struck; then seven. Charl J Maddox had not come in yet. It was not t il half past seven that she heard t ille of the elevator down the hall clar Zz and his footfa the corridor , , Half-past seven, and she lls sound in had been sitting moment, and during the hours , haae waited, it would be h: the nature of her the plex and widely divergent, feverish stimulation one thought to another pen clews which way the and in the first hour of her broodi ad pi up and pieced together out of a series of immaterial, ard to denote thts. They ner mind in its Up were com le aping errant Traces, hints; Straws, in fact, do show > wind blows ng she! cked long-forgotten occurrences an array of evi dence damning in its sinister sig There were, for instance, the night had telephoned uptown he dinner There were the too, when he had not come home for dinner And where had he been, nad t would be late for Business se nights, at all —business too, on the nights w! must go out of town? Was that also? Bertha, however, had not restricted her activity to this merely mental phase. His desk was her first field of research She found nothing there, It was fille d with bills, letters and business papers, en he business however all flung in together in the hopeless conft sion that was characteristic of him; and she tried bureau next. Like a magpie, he often stowed the most surprising things in there; and in a lower drawer, tucked in secretly under a pile of shirt he found what she at first thought was what she hunted. With a low cry she pounced on it—a packet of letters tied about, if un } romantically, with Her disappointment was when she snatched the first envelope and saw its contents it began; and letter with it in the packet, herself Charley, it seemed, had kept them all these years, and with a shrug she flung them back into the dr: She searched the bureau again, he ab.tot ae ng twir graphic, though, letter out of its ‘ lh as 0 Darling, + } ' as well as those had been written by iwer might find in ping she it some secret hiding place she had over looked, but the search was futile. Then she remembered that on two or three occasions she had seen him with a square black box of whose contents he seemed solicitous Feverishly she began hunting for it; after fifteen and among cl shelves, her rewarded box had been tucked out of the w ay beneath his bed; and though it was locked and she could not find the key,'a few minutes’ work with a steel envelope cutter and the heel of i shoe pried open the flimsy lock ‘Ah!” fell on its contents minutes of prying int high and low efforts were corners she cried as her eye Letters! There Some were penned by typed. These, ritten by her; eyes narrowed and intent, she hurriedly went through them. She They, there were lines here and there in were hand, ot} were not letters a score or more ers had been at any rate, and seated on the floor, her however. too, were business le ers though each letter that caught her attention even ir that moment of stress. Each, it seemed to her, was in the nature of an attack; but as she saw, too, the attack was based on busi- ness grounds alone “B Ik” was a term used in one. In another veiled threats were uttered But Bertha now was not concer remote and impersonal a matter as her hus band's t and she flung the ned in so )USINeSS; letters aside, her attention turned to other papers in the box, one a packet of folded sheets held together by a rubber band. Tearing off that each folded sheet Continued on Page 169) the band, she saw 167 New Life jor OLD WALLS and ceilings r a I ng P aster I S so easy now for you to make cracked walls or ceilings as good i = as new! itching Plaster water, and fill the crack or You just mix Rutland P with a little hole. 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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | June 1, 1927 i iN ~. ™* \\ Oldest Wrought Iron Ship in Navy Us S:‘ Wolverine Still Active $ ~- / an ne ee etal? “An Iron Ship Will Sink” So Believed Curious Crowds who Gathered in 1844 to See the Launching of the First Iron Ship a far and near, they came that day to Erie to see this piece of folly. “A ship of iron can’t float,” they said. Planter, merchant, stage driver, banker, tavern keeper, lady of fashion —one and all were there, each to ex- claim “I told you so” —“I knew it” — “$80 tons of iron!” —‘‘ What nonsense to think that it would float!” So they scoffed in 1844. Today the U.S.S. Wolverine, veteran of four wars, is still afloat. And in the 80 years that you might have heard her paddles chunking, not one major repair has been made upon her staunch old wrought iron hull. In many old buildings today, are similar though less dramatic examples of the superior rust resistance of wrought iron. Threading dusty cor- ridors, concealed behind aging walls, original piping systems of Byers Pipe have served thirty, forty and more years without replacement, without repair. The life of wrought iron is two to three times that of steel. In every square inch of wrought iron there are thou- sands of siliceous filaments—not present in steel. These provide a dense rust resisting screen, all but impregnable to the inroads of corrosion. For plumbing, heating, and power piping, the use of long-lived Byers Pipe will prevent many costly failures and save many times its small extra price. “On the Trail of Byers Pipe” con- tains interesting facts for home owners and plant managers. Itis free. Send for it. A. M. BYERS COMPANY Established 1864 PITTSBURGH, PA. ‘Distributors in all Jobbing Centers BYERS PIPE GENUINE WROUGHT IRON protects you against mistakes and substitution Alse look for name and pear rolled in meta!

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(Continued from Page 167 a monthly financial statement headed by the name of a firm she didn’t know. Neither was she able to make head or tail of what was a meaningless array of numerals was and letters. ‘‘Long, 200 So. R. R. com; 500 Int. Pete; 250 Nash Mot, com. Long, 100 So. R. R. com; 150 USCIP com; 1000 Int. Pete. Long, 300 Mont. Ward com.” All the papers were dated; they were stock- brokerage statements, she divined dimly, and before she tlung them aside tation on the of the most recent date held her momentarily. It read, “* Balance, $284,001.10." At the bottom of the box, however, she found something that was worth the search. It was a check book, only the stubs remaining; but as she opened the book she found in it a single used check pinned to one of the stubs: ‘‘Pay to the order of B. Baronov $1000.” Baronov was the name of that woman she had left downstairs, and Bertha gave a low ery of triumph. She held the check up to the light. It was dated in October of the previous year, and all at once the signifi- of the date dawned on her. The day before that day when he had first killing—the sixteen thou- and as she saw this, she saw Stamped on its face was the legend, ‘“‘No funds.’’ The check, it seemed, had been turned back at the bank, though that was of scant importance. There was that woman she had confronted downstairs, and her husband and the woman had been deep in their shameful intrigue even when he hadn't the money to goon W ith it! an anno- one cance was the made that sand dollars; sometning one else. Leaving the papers scattered on the floor, Bertha went straight to the closet where her husband hung his clothes. Sys- tematically she went through the pockets of each of the suits hanging up there. A faint scent hung to one of the suits, a per- fume; and dragging the suit from its hook, she held it close to her nostrils. She knew the scent and hated it. Sophie Gershon always was drenching herself with the stuff; and, as she remembered significantly from her experience at the night clubs, it was a favorite among certain women—women she had watched contemptuously. But in the pocket of the coat was something else a glove. ‘Hah!” she said the floor, and with the Bertha walked into the living reom. There she seated herself, the glove in her lap. Her chair directly faced the door; and though or twice her eyes swam hotly, the tears edging out of them and trickling down her cheek, she hastily dash ed them away This was not a time for tears, mawk Bertha long had steeled herself to the ordeal she knew was before her when she heard the grille of the elevator clang Charley Maddox had come home. She flung the suit on glove in her hand once ishness ‘Well?”’ stood with her As she spoke Bertha rose. She slender figure erect and her ead tilted back. There was no premedita tion in the poised dignity of her though she strove to keep out of it any vul gar show of the and contempt that raged within her Charley Maddox started sharply what, Bertha?’’ he responded ‘Where have you been?”’ she demanded Her tone was icy. He did not answer for a moment. He st had on his hat and overcoat; and after — at her frigid face and stiffened figure, he laid his hat on a table and slowly took off his coat pose, anger ‘Well a quick “‘T was in court,’’ he answered Be ‘rtha stared. ‘‘In court?” “With Tebo, Bertha.” After a moment Bertha’s was difficult for her to control herself long had accustomed herself to what she considered the ridiculous vagaries of his character; but that he should | been employing himself at a time like this ir another of his quixotic escapades seemed somehow too grotesque even on his part He had been in court! He had been there with Tebo! Bertha laughed outright, the laugh like a file. lip curled. It She lave THE SATURDAY “Why are you laughing?" asked Charley His face was grave Tebo in Sing Sing.” Bertha looked at him for a moment. It to he vin, and her

vot "Oe 1 got three y was as good a time as any lip curled again. ‘*‘ Was the she inquired woman in court too?” “What woman, *Tebo'’s woman, ( She spoke quietly Bertha?” nariey her tone even, thoug} effect on him they her eyes were alert to see its *“There’s always a woman in it are crooked, isn’t there He admitted it. It often was as she ““Yes,”’ answered Charley painfully. “And what was her name?”’ Bertha, the accent suggestively on “‘her.”’ Charley’s shifted uncomfortably. ‘I say, Bertha,’ he mumbled, “what's got into you anyway? Why are you acting like this? Is it because I tried to help that poor devil in his trouble? You don’t think that was anything wrong, do you?” Bertha’s foot tapped the floor impa- tiently. ‘‘Come, answer my question!” she directed. “‘Who was the woman? His typewriter?” ‘It was his wife,’’ Charley dropped as he thrust when 9 said. inquired eyes answered. spore, He into his His voice turned away, his pockets, and, his eyes on the floor, he took a short turn across the room. ‘I'd rather not talk of it, Bertha. They put the stand and turned him inside wept finally, hardly able wouldn’t say anything about her. the neighbors that gave it then hands Tebo on out. He but he It was away. to speak; one of She spent all he and F Breaking off abruptly, exclamation: ‘ Bertha!” Jertha again had laughed. As if she she, indeed!—should be hoodwinked and bamboozled by any claptrap such as that! All at though, the laughter ceased and she drew herself up. As she did so she t rust out the glove she held in her hand. ‘‘Whose is that?” she demanded. Charley took it. After a look at the glove he handed it back. ‘‘ Yours,”’ he said. saw now; though it did not disconcert her. Her face set, she pointed a fixed finger at the indicating the house below. ‘“‘Who is that woman down- stairs?’’ she inquired. ‘What woman?” ‘The one waiting for you in the recep- tion room.” ‘I saw no woman,” she stamped her foot. ‘Answer me! Her name, she said, was Baronov — Hester Baronov!”’ cried Bertha, and this time she could make, some, Charley gave an once, So it was, as she floor, replied C} irley . and struck fire. Charley Maddox started sharply. ‘Good God!” he said, his face wondering — fright- ened, too, as she saw. ‘“‘She was here Hester Baronov?”’ sertha was quick to follow up her ad vantage. She gave him no time to quibble or to palter. ‘“‘She was here, and I talked to her. You may as well understand that! ‘What did she stammered, Berthasmiled with bitter, tragic triumph. as told me all —-everything,”’ Say ?” he as much she answered. “She But the reply, so far from crushing Charley Maddox, seemed only to rouse him. ‘‘Exactly what did she tell? I want to know,” he repeated. Bertha told him then. It was not mucl All of it of suspicion; to tell was, of largely compounded course but, a Wher however, she she had e charge was clear enoug! wrenched it out, was prepared for the effect it had His lip curled. For such, th she had hardly on Charley Maddox. the first time in her life she saw scorn, not to call it contempt, disclose itself like a fang on Charley's face. And the contempt, she sensed, was for her! ‘‘So that’s what you think of me, Bertha all at once please! is it?’ he said slowly, and felt he Look at me, rself wilt * Charley won't You mean it isn’t her off. It done that, ‘Don’t talk you? true?” ( harley shook was the first time, he’d ittered a broken cry too, ever and she l to me! (harley s 1\ iid savage EVENING POST

He , the Witt t r the room. H € Was set-—a ‘ ‘ t s et mer : ] ‘ i 0 H f f 4 Ke 4 ' — Harng lhe at sie a e § ‘ 4 rie ’ it f \ ru ‘ ( arile ‘ é } Har ~ ‘ uu ( me t f wha r ‘ ' al YY ] ‘ alke with her. I know that g ; on on er an tior é ne i ‘ tar and if \ 1 ever > mu a eamed oOo the ey our s on do ‘ yu’ ‘ down or e flox ind beg her forgivene A muttere imbie came from him as he spoke ‘Hester—little Hester Baror ! Good Lord!” said ( nariey Maddox

But when, frightened 1 v¥. Bertha strove to speak, he swung around on her, | ar flung out in anger. “Oh, keep still!’ he said vulgarly —roughly tox ‘You've enoug! for once! It was that fellow Har nett the st’ done this to keep his hands off Baronov and let him alone but I see now, once he got to licking his over the tne mught of t jet him alon chops saronoy s money, he : Berth: then it’s ouldan stening breathlessly ‘You Harnett i was | mean Just between the girl’s father? ‘Yes.”” The nd the girl isn’t in it a ‘Have n't I told you?”’ His mouth dis- torted again and she snap. “You may as well know the facts now. The moment you told me Hester Baronov had been here I guessed what was up. It because I Harnett tell Ger a week that he had just did was to trim Baronoyv. He did it, thoug! I'd warned him not to.” ‘Then that’s all it was “All?” cried C “Why, yes yes was sharp and blunt tall. j if ; itself saw his eyes was overheard non ago in the office made a killing. What he too, ’* asked Bertha harley said Bertha. ‘‘It’s just how money’s made, isn’t it?”’ *‘Made?” “Yes,” she answered. a stare In amazement » picked up his hat from the chair it on, his eyes still fixed on ked up began ‘Where are you going? 1 we're going to and Char- Charley gave her Then ne fter h Bertha, he pi getting into that We haven't the theater e had put his coat and had dinner, an besides sne

ley’s mout} ‘Damn dinner! Damn the theater too! he said, and Bertha had to ask him again where he was going To Brooklyn, of course to see Bar- replie ad i people! Why onov, he Those stupl should more time be wasted over them when so much al ready had been wasted? And then, too, there was the talk she wished to have with Charley. The ridiculous events of the after- and evening had, of made it

noon course, impossible to discuss intelligently what Bertha had so long intended to discuss; and there was so much to say, besides ‘About what?’ demanded Charley \ ot of things. There was the new apart ment, for one thing ‘The new I ment?” Charley’s voice rose I’ve decided we etter n e. ( le ‘What val! \ mani our | Y egar Bertha; but that was as fa he got After ane t ea { i iuy abrupt! ir ope ! f to t na t Vaine ) i ) iO ” nad if \ moment or so later she } e iron yy e of the elevator « ng, ar t was not ir i that night midnig to be exa tnat sne id her ta x hin s time owever, the ta is | odut t XVII M isi orto witching hour. It was when Charley Maddox ng away on nis ridicuious errand o Broo r t nine

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KUPROX can be attached to any THIS trickle charger or power unit in two min _—— utes. Ask any good radio dealer to show you KUPROX, or write direct to us for literature. INSTALL KUPROX FORGET IT Dealers—Jobbers—Power Unit Manufacturers: Write for complete trade details. Sample orders accepted for immediate delivery. See KUPROX at this week’s Chicago Trade Show. THE KODEL RADIO CORPORATION, UPROX Dry Metallic Disc Rectifiers CINCINNATI, O. EVENING POST Bertha dined. She ate little, however, the hotel food tasting more than ever insipid and unappetizing; besides which, her mind was too preoccupied for her to have en- joyed any meal. Had she enjoyed her own wishes, she would merely have ordered her- self a little consommé and toast, as she had first intended; but when the waiter came, his attention solicitous, she felt she could not disappoint him by ordering anything so insignificant. His tip was, of course, pro- portionate to the check; and then, too, she had the uneasy feeling that if she merely ordered a soup and toast the man might feel she was skimping. It was the same feeling, in fact, she’d had more than once in her old housekeeping days uptown, the times when in sheer self-defense she had or- dered from some sneering tradesman twice as much beefsteak, say, as she had needed either that or double the required amount of groceries. However, having ordered a complete formal dinner from hors d’ceuvres to a sweet and a demi-tasse, Bertha went to the telephone. Outside, it had begun to rain. Flora Beals lived some blocks uptown. It was in an apartment. Bertha never had been in the apartment, since Mrs. Beals al- ways did her entertaining elsewhere—that is, either in a restaurant or at a tea room; but, as Bertha knew, the apartment was one of those smart, up-to-date affairs of the kind made by remodeling a former dwell- ing. However, Bertha hardly had given the telephone number to the operator be- fore she wished she hadn’t. It was only that she felt she must talk to someone that she had done so; and she realized while she waited for her connection that after all she did not know Mrs. Beals any too well. The same was true, too, of all her new circle the women she met at bridge parties, at restaurants, and so on. But that was per- haps to be expected when a woman is estab- lishing herself. She had, of course, had to drop her former acquaintances, those rem- iniscent of her dowdy days now past; and she had not had time yet to cement her friendship with the new. As she was reflecting this she heard Mrs. Beals’ voice on the wire: ‘‘Yes? Who is it?”’ “It’s I, Flora—-Bertha. I wanted to talk to you.” ‘*Well?”’ said Mrs. Beals. Bertha was a little set back at Mrs. Beals’ tone. It seemed abrupt, faintly chill. She overlooked it however. ‘‘ Are you do- ing anything, Flora? I'd like to see you if it’s possible. I have something on mind that is necessary to settle, and I need your advice.” Mrs. Beals’ ‘Something on your mind?”’ ‘Something that’s troubling me, yes.” “Tell me,” Mrs. Beals said hastily. “Your husband hasn’t busted, has he?”’ Bertha was dumfounded for an instant. Busted? It was as much the raw crudity of the remark as its bluntness that startled her. She could hardly believe that it came from a woman of Flora Beals’ assumed cul- tivation and authority; and, astonished, she herself as crudely exclaimed into the telephone, ‘‘ What’s that?” Mrs. Beals replied, “‘I just asked. You said you were in trouble, didn’t you?” Not in trouble; she merely was troubled. It was a distinction with a difference. ‘‘If you could come down here,”’ faltered Bertha hesitantly, “‘why, I'll send a cab for you.” “Impossible!” Mrs. Beals, made it fixedly definite. Bertha, she pointed out, must have forgotten it was Saturday night, and all Mrs. Beals’ Saturday nights were taken. Then, having said this, Mrs. 3eals spoke again, a newer crispness in her voice: ‘‘Emilie told me this evening that you had sent back those two dresses you ordered of her,’’ she remarked. Emilie was a dressmaker. Flora Beals had introduced Bertha there; and Bertha had indeed sent back the dresses. Though costly, they were atrocious. “Well?” she said. “You can’t do that,"’ announced Mrs. Beals— ‘‘not when you ordered them.”’ my voice rose inquiringly: besides, June 11,1927 “You mean,” inquired Bertha, ‘that I must pay for them whether I take them or not?” ‘“‘Naturally,”” was Flora’s decisive reply. Bertha hung up the receiver, wondering whether Charley might not have been right in something he had said. It was the sug gestion that in so kindly introducing Bertha to so many of her shops, Flora Beals had been actuated by something more than mere kindness. In fact, at this insinuation and another that had accompanied it, Bertha had been incensed. Scoring him sharply for suggesting that Flora Beals might be a dressmaker’s tout, roundly called him to task for terming her new set, in so many words, restaurant so- ciety. It had naturally angered her. more angered, perhaps, than even an affront like that would warrant. ‘Yes, I know!” she’d retorted, in her wrath disclosing what long had been a secret soreness in her mind “If you had your way you'd like me to bootlick and grovel to those former friends of yours, the ones that think they’re suct swells!’’ She meant the For an instant Charley looked as if she had struck him. ‘“‘ Don't be vulgar, Bertha. You never were before,’’ he said heavily. she also She was teades. “Then don’t you attack my friends! she had warned “Please, please!” begged Charley. At the same time he had laid a hand on hers “I’m sorry, dear. Have what friends you like, if it pleases you. Do what you wish, I'll say nothing. If you're happy, God knows that’s all I can finished heavily. However, the momentary affair over the telephone with Flora Beals had cisive effect. Why should she care what Flora Beals said or did? Why, for that matter, should she let any woman worry her? All at once, in fact, at thought of it, Bertha realized the folly and absurdity of letting any of recently imagined shadows creep in to dim her joy. Unhappy? What reason had she to unhappy? Think of all she had! Think of all the women who would have danced with glee to be in her shoes! And even if her husband wasn’t so rich and suc- cessful some women she knew, he was young, he still ning; and with her to help him, well! She was humming to herself when the waiter came up with her dinner. She again was humming when he returned to clear away the dinner things The man ex- claimed at the size of the tip he got: “ Merci, madame.”’ “Pas de quoi,”” smiled Bertha Once the waiter had gone, she slipped out of the street dress she stil It was already past ten, and Charley might return at any moment. She wished to make he self ready for his return She was sorry now she had spoken as she had. She among other things, that she had mentioned that busi ness of the moving. Apparently her plans for the new apartment had for some reason vexed Charley; and, not been a propitious moment to talk of it That had been the trouble, though—her anxiety and suspicion had made her mo- mentarily tactless, even though the sus picion had proved unfounded. Tonight, however, she meant to repair that fault, once Charley Maddox came home; and as she slipped off her waist and stepped out of the skirt of her street smiled radiantly as she caught a glimpse of her re- flection in the dressing glass How slender and girlish she How comely and desirable she appeared! For a long moment Bertha stood there, gazing at her image in the mirror. She was not yet thirty. She looked, in- deed, even younger than she was; and conscious of this, glance to assure her that the charm of her lithe, slim figure and white, sloping shoul- ders was undimmed. A faint sidewise smile played upon her lips. She lowered her lids, too ask,’ he one de- these be as the husbands of Was begin urge him on | had on was sorry also, as she realized, it had dress, sne still was! she needed no second Continued on Page 173

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Continued from Page 170 her head tilted, as she surveyed her slender- ness and shapeliness. One of her shoulder bands, a silken strap, had slipped down out of place, and she wriggled her arm to let it slip lower. She had not lost her husband, Bertha knew. She had not lost him, nor would he be lost to her if she wished to hold him. She knew, in fine, as most women at some time learn, that if they lose their husbands they, the women, have themselves as much as any to blame; provided, of course, age does not kill their charms; provided, too, that care, toil and drudgery do not aid old age. But, naturally, there was no need now for her to think of this. Through the lashes of her narrowed eyelids she gave herself an- other glance; and then, opening the door of the closet near at hand, she took down from its hook one of the long, filmy gar- ments that hung there. The garment was a negligee was a delicate silk, so sheer and nebulous in its texture that it shrouded her like mist. The tone, its prevailing hue, was old rose; but she no sooner had it on than she dis- carded it. In the closet were two similar garments, and she tried on first one, then the other. This, the last, was ivory white and so transparent that her bare arms and bust gleamed through it vividly, and after another glance at herself in the glass she smiled again. Charley Maddox would do what wished, no mistake. She had only to look in the glass to know it; and indolently, the sheer silk negligee slipping from one bare shoulder, Bertha drifted back into the other room ready to greet Charley when he came in. It was just midnight when she heard the grille of the elevator clang. Outside now the rain had changed to snow. The snow, too, was wet and clinging. “My dear!” ejaculated Bertha. He had gone without an umbrella; and his coat and trousers were sopping, his shoes, too, pip- Its fabric she ing and squelching as he turned to shut the door behind him. ‘‘Lord!’’ he mumbled. Bertha frowned in dismay. She had not expected any home-coming like this. In his drenched, bedraggled attire he looked like a tramp; and his dull sullen manner, had little in it to encourage any warmth or fervor on her part —a greeting, much less, such as she had planned. “Oh, don’t do that!’’ she exclaimed He had taken off his hat and was flipping the sodden snow from its brim. The snow flew, a part of it landing on the sheer, diaphanous texture of her negligee; and with the exclamation she gave she shrank back hastily. But Charley didn’t seem to hear or heed. His face morose, he hung up his hat and coat on the rack, the drip from them forming a puddle on the hardwood ‘““T'd like some hot teeth chattering. too, floor beside the rug. coffee,” he his **I'm frozen.”’ Coffee at this hour”? the restaurant downstairs had closed. said, He must realize that “Why didn’t you take a cab?” she asked. ““Couldn't find one,”’ he growled. Then, as he came farther into the room, Bertha got a first clear look at him. His face was pasty and drawn. Under his eyes circles were limned as if with a smudge; and be neath his lips, the lips blue, his teeth chat tered in a tattoo. Bertha gave a gasp as she saw a chill rack through him ‘“‘Charley, you're sick!"’ she cried. “Yes, I'm sick,”’ he said doggedly. She fairly flew at him then, her face pain ful with concern. He had slumped down onachair. Again he was riven with a chill, ts rigor vital, so that he could only cling to ““Get up, Charley! ordered. the chair and shake. Get your wet things off!” Vigorously she lugged him to his feet and steered him toward the bedroom. She saw, however, that the chill shaking him was as much due to some shock, some emotional nervous upset, as it was due to the cold and wet. “‘What’s happened to you?” she de- manded as he began clumsily and with fumbling fingers to strip himself of his clothes. she

THE SATURDAY Charley turned a pair of dulled, painful “Happened?” He hunched his shoulders dispassionately. ‘‘ Nothing just hell,”” he Bertha felt another stab of fright. ‘Tel me what you mean. I want to know Charley.”’ eyes on her said ** Just what I said, Bertha. They thought at first I'd done it. I had a hard time to make them see it was Harnett —just him.” “In Brooklyn?” “Yes The man was in bed, and they’ve got a nurse for him. | thought when | came in the old womar would tear me limb from limb.” Baronov old Bertha stared. ‘*‘Tear you limb from limb?” He nodded, his voice when he spoke t catching. ‘She was like a fury. The other, though —she was different.” Bertha was listening, her caught. She understood little if anything o what he was saying, but fright somehow “The other? You now breath ¢ was tugging at her mean that girl, the one who—who was downstairs?” ‘“Yes—Hester. She—she He sought to speak, but once more a chill shook him so that he couldn't. Presently, how- ever, he got command of himself she got down on her knees,”’ said Charley; “she got down on her knees and tried to kiss my hand!”’ “Your hand? That girl?” **Yes— Hester.” “What for, Charley?” sone she ‘“Because I did what I went over there to do—gave back to Baronoyv the money Harnett took from him.” “You gave it back?” ‘Yes.”’ ‘Your own money?” ‘Mine, Bertha.” ‘How much was it you gave them?” asked Bertha. But at that moment another chill, this one more vital than any of the others, racked Charley from feet to head. His lips turned blue. The last vestige of color in his face went out of it; and when he came out of the spasm he made no reference in what he said either to Baronov or to what he had done at Baronov’s. “I’m cold—so cold,” he faltered; ‘‘I can’t be ill—I mustn't! Can't you get me something hot to drink?”’ She gave one more look at him and hur ried frantically into the hall. The elevator was still running, and when it reached her floor she asked the man hurriedly whether there was anything left in the kitchen or whether he himself couldn’t get her husband something hot to drink Coffee, tea, anything would “2'al tty, I'll see,”’ he said. cocoa do. madam; Bertha gave him a five-dollar bill and hurried back to Charley Maddox. He had his clothes off and, having crept into bed, he had dragged the blankets up about him and was sitting there, his eyes sodden and staring about him sullenly. ‘I hate this place,”’ he said doggedly as Bertha came hurrying in She at once busied herself patting the pillows together and making him comfort- able. ‘‘That’s another reason why I mean to have us move,” Charley’s voice was still dogged when he “I'd hate the next place just as much, Bertha.”’ Bertha, however, didn’t reply. She saw it was again futile to at tempt to discuss the matter with him; and, as she, too, now began to realize, some- thing of more importance even than that which had in the meanwhile intervened. It was that chance admission he had made If veiled and incomplete, the admission of what had occurred that night over in Brooklyn was something she could not let pass, and frankly she was frightened. It was not merely a passing fright could not free her mind, try as she would, of the fear it had instilled in Just what the fear was she did not put into words, nor is it certain she herself was clear as to just what her terror was. There were her woman's intuitions, however. She might not know much about men’s affairs she said. replied: one her. EVENING POST

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As he said it Bertha thanked him with the rare charm she had with such people. The man went off down the hall rosy with pleasure and gratification; and closing the door, she hurried back into the bedroom and poured out a cupful for Charley. “That's good,”’ he said as he sipped it. The color came back into his face and the chill, too, seemed to wane. ‘“‘ Pour me some more, Bertha.’’ As Bertha did so Charley smiled grayly, hismouth twisted. ‘Over in Brooklyn they wanted to get me some. They saw I was cold, but it was just nerves then. The girl wanted to bring me home, too, in her car, but I wouldn’t let her. She’d had about enough for one day.” Had she? Bertha glanced curiously at her husband. How about him? ‘“Char- ley,”’ she said abruptly, “‘you’ve got to chuck Harnett—Jud Gershon too.” To her surprise, he said nothing. Slowly he went sipping his coffee. A little non- plused, she said it again: “‘ You can’t keep on with those fellows. You've got to drop them, and the sooner you do, the better. You hear what I say, don’t you?” “Yes, I hear you,’’ nodded Charley. “Well, why don’t you say something?” she demanded, and he grinned faintly. “It depends on what you expect me to say, Bertha.” She was a little indignant. The only thing he could possibly say, of course, was that he agreed with her—that he must do as she said and chuck the two; but instead of saying it, he grinned again. She did not like the grin either. It was ironical, not to say sardonic, and she flushed faintly with her annoyance. “Well?” she inquired. Charley set down his cup. He had not finished the coffee in it, but he seemed not to require it now. “‘Do you mean what you say?’’ he asked Did she mean what she said? She curled her lip. ‘“‘ Naturally,’ replied Bertha. At once Charley sat up straight among the pillows, his face grave, but a new quick light lifting in his eyes. ‘‘ Very well,’’ he said, and his eyes fixed themselves gravely on her. ‘‘If you mean that—if you’re hon- est, Bee, in what you tell me—I’ll not only quit that bunch; I'll get down on my knees and thank God that I’m done with them. Now just why do you think you're sure you want me to?” he asked. There were a lot of reasons. There was her dislike for Harnett and Gershon, for ex- ample. Charley should not be in business with people like them. There were again the wives of Harnett and Gershon. ‘1 knew I was piqued, Charley, when you in- timated they were vulgar. They are, and I am finished with them. I was never more ashamed in my life than I was today when I had luncheon at Pierre’s with Minnie. She ordered corned-beef hash with a poached egg on it, then pie— pumpkin pie.”’ “LT see,’’said Charley; ‘‘then it’s Minnie and Sophie?” “Yes; they and their husbands.” ‘*Their husbands’ table manners, by any chance? I know Harnett makes music when he eats soup.” ‘Are you trying to be funny or insult- ing?”’ inquired Bertha, and he shook his head. “Neither, Bertha. I’m merely trying to get at your real reasons.” “It’s your partners, then, if you wish to know,” she returned. “I don’t like them and I don’t trust them. Minnie as much as admitted today they are crooked.” Charley reflected for a moment. “By chance, did she say anything about your own husband, Bertha?” he inquired. ‘She?” Bertha laughed scornfully. ‘“‘I wouldn't have let her June 11,1927 He reflected again after that. For a moment it looked as if he meant to say something, perhaps make some admission, though he didn’t. Instead, he drew in his breath, a faint sigh coming from him. “Well?”’ prompted Bertha. “The point is this, Bertha,”’ said Char- ley: ‘‘I don’t care for them any more than you do. I don’t like their ways, I don’t like the things they do in business. It all seems a hopeless mess to me; but I’m willing, if you are, to get out from under. After all, there’s something else in life than money.”’ Bertha started. “‘What do you mean, Charley?”’ “Just what I say, Bee. If I quit with them the money, too, will probably quit.’’ “The money you bring home?” “Yes, Bertha.” She had not known that. It had not oc- curred to her—or she had not quite di gested it—that it was his association with Harnett and Gershon that had enabled him to supply her with the thews and sinews of her new delightful existence. She was, in short, still striving to digest it when Charley spoke, his voice low, deliberate “I'd thank God, no joke, Bertha, if I were out of it. You’ll never know what I’ve beer through these months—the hell of lying awake nights, night after night, and think ing, thinking. A man can get away from a lot of things in life—unpleasant things; but there’s one he can’t get away from and that’s himself. Say the word, though and I can get clear of Harnett and Ger shon; I can get clear of them, too, wit} clean hands and a clear mind. You don't KnOw it they don’t either, what’s more but it all can be fixed in a way that would surprise a lot of people—that is, if you would be willing.”’ “po” ‘You'd have to give up a lot, Bertha Maybe you'd have to give up everything It might be that you and I would have to yo back to where we were, live as we lived when this began.” She looked at him in astonishment. Once again she felt that stab of nameless in describable fear she had had. ‘‘What are you talking about?” Bertha exclaimed ‘‘T was telling you,’’ he answered “That I'd have to give up my friends? Give up the things I have? Go back to a flat like we had, for example?” “The same flat, maybe,”’ he nodded. “That place?”’ She laughed. ‘“‘T was happy there,”” he said—‘‘ happy anyway.” He grinned as he spoke. There was not much humor in the grin though. ‘‘See this?”’ he inquired. As he spoke he reached over to the night table by his side and picked up his watch and chain. A small flat key dangled from one end of the chair ‘That's the key to our old flat,’ grinned Charley. ‘‘I kept it as a souvenir.” Bertha looked at him in amazement She’d had plenty of instances in her ex perience of his absurd, boyish freakishness; but this seemed of all the final straw. Along with that, too, she had a suspicion, itself grotesque. ‘‘ You haven't been fool enoug} to keep on paying the rent of it, have you?”’ she demanded. His grin grew. ‘“‘No; but i'll admit I thought of it.”’ “Yes, it would be like you!” Bertha said, though Charley did not seem to mind Tr at He still was grinning. ‘‘ The flat’s empty vet,’ he said. ‘‘I went up there this week, just for roots, to have a look at it ‘And you thought I'd go back there? ‘No, I just wondered if you would.”’ ‘To live there again—that dump?” ‘If it were necessary, Bee. 797° “Uh-huh.” “You must be crazy She turned away and slowly began to said Bertha. take off her things. As she saw, it virtually was a waste of breath to try to discuss things with him while he was in his present ridiculous mood Charley watched her thoughtfully while she moved about. After Continued on Page 177

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Continued ae Page 174 a while he ‘Then you don’t want me to quit, Bee?”’ Bertha shrugged. lous!”’ she told him. He dropped back among the pillows. Burrowing among them, he drew the cover- spoke: ‘Don't be ridicu- ings up about his head. From under them his voice emerged. ‘It’s your party then. On with the dance!” said Charley. ALIMENTATIONS ARTFUL THE SATURDAY Bertha asked a final question just before she turned out the light ‘You haven't said anything about the new apartmer Charley. The agent hi: have ‘ r on Monday. What sh:z him?” “You can tell hi t you damn please,”’ said Charley On Monday night the lease to sign im a brought h dort} Ertl TO BE CONTINUED (QO) WT WT) Vii LD Continued from Page 11 ad- She trust you know he won't We've tried that.” bed and groaned company, us a cent! dropped down on the Vance ‘If only we had a charge account some- where * ‘No!” Pamela's di je cted voice took ona forceful volume. dl have never owed penny and I won’t begin. It would make me utterly miserable to have a debt hanging over me. Goodness knows, when I have money I spend it like paying out an anchor chain where there’s no bottom, but when I haven't, I’m a Scotchman.” ‘You are a blessed lamb,” said Jocelyn, and kicked off her pumps. “I wouldn't have you one scrap miserable. We'll look over my things and see what we can do.” Pamela swung herself around and lay flat. ‘“‘I read in a woman's magazine once how to get yourself up for a ball without spending a dollar. You just ripped up your wedding dress, dyed it rose color, achieved a fetching fichu effect with your grand- mother’s lace and found your great-aunt Maria’s pearls in an attic trunk. A very sound experiment if one has ancestors in the the and too garret—we haven't even garret can sew—which I can’t! No, you must have a brand-new evening gown, somehow. I'll lend you my three new satin pajamas, but that’s not quite the same thing, is it?’ ‘In another year or so I dare say we'll be wearing them to night clubs at least,’ said Jocelyn, standing up to let her clothes slide to the ground. ‘‘I must get into my tub,” added with a glance at the clock, and vanished into the bathroom. Pamela lay on the bed and beat her brains. It was quite true of her, as she had said to John Ogden, that her stories came to her as bolts from the blue. Once or she had even been given an idea in Sometimes a mere remark from a passing stranger in the street had taken sudden root like a fakir’s seed and grown up into a tree with blossoms before she could reach her desk. And then how effort- lessly the tale drooled off the end of her pen! It made her quite wild to think of it. Within a stone’s throw of her there must be a thousand plots just waiting to be seen. It was quite maddening, because with a plot would have been willing, under these pressing circumstances, to bor- row a couple of hundred dollars; though she had never me so for herself, Without it she suffered under the common delusion of artists in an unproductive season that the world’s last picture had been painted, she twice her sleep. her head she and the tubes were twisted and dry. Jocelyn could take her silver-tissue frock and the black tulle—it was a merciful dis- ~— on of Providence that she had never fat—and her white brocade evening a with the ermine If any of the circus invited her to a party while the child was gone, she uld have to drape herself in her Chi bedspread. But all that wasn't a new and she knew what a cloy 1uce to life’s banquet was a fresh frocl Kn. Jocelyn came back from her bath, radi- antly refreshed, and humming a tune just to show how little she cared for stony rown 1) coliar. > we nese gown, less sz being broke. Asa matter of fact, she rather over- did her part, and Pamela, lying there watch- ing her make her toilet, was impressed lief that Jocelyn was going on party. She cared horribly about that vanished Pamela's wide blue eye head. Could with the be no ordinary dream. tared at the golden it be possible could it she cried inwardly, that that be particularly beautiful for some particu be possible a baby wanted to lar person? She felt her hair turn gray at +he mere notion. Jocelyn was nineteen and had finished her schooling this very June why did it seem so fantastic to think of her as being ready for love and marriage Swift and awful was that change in thos years from fifteen to twenty! Five years made so little difference in an adult life “Oh, Jocelyn!” she burst out, and bit her lip. “What-what?” said Jocelyn easily. She stood up in her pretty slippers and a flimsy bit of nothing that passed for underpinning, and turned to look at the womar the bed. Contrition seized her at sight of that loved face. ‘* Honey, not worryi! on you're She ran over and laid a satin-cool cheek against Pamela's. ‘As if, darling, you didn’t do such miracles for me all the time! Think how many, many lovely dresses | have had!” “Well, I know. But, oh, Jocelyn, child, I have an idea that this dress s different !”’ The cool cheek pressed to hers ame softly warmer, but did not speak or move. Pamela felt her heart sink. Had the time come then when the girl she had loved from babyhood, who cou in’t, a felt, be dearer if she had been born of own body, was going to start out on a quite separate life for herself? What would she do without her housemate, alone”? bec Jocelyn She could have lain there and let the tears ooze out of her closed eyes. Well, darn the lovers that go and be, she thought She must not make a moist spectacle herself and dampen poor Jocelyn’s littl hour with her selfish woe. Considering tl child’s beauty and charm, Pamela was lucky to have kept her so long as this. Faintly hope within suggested that she might be reading too much in the clasp of this warm slim nymph, but the very length and silence of that clinging embrace were overeloquent. ‘It's quarter to seven, Miss Shere,”’ she said, with a dry throat. Well, how different everything seemed. Perhaps this intruder in her life was even now on his way here to eat the dinner she had so carefully planned. She could have asked, would not force confidence. She had. Pamela was conscious for days of being the incommensurate container of too many emotions. The delight of loving John Og- den was quite positively at war with her reluctance to yield Jocelyn to love so early; and curiously enough, tremendous were these vital preoccupations, her tem- porary frustration as an author would oc- casionally override them with the egotistic passion of the artist. She flung herself, with her peculiar in- tensity, into the contriving, from their combined belongings, of a suitable outfit for Jocelyn’s visit to the Marriot-Smiths, find- ing surcease from mental torment in con- sideration of material frivolities. And a very good job she made of it, so far as it went. There remained, glaringly obvious to her critical the le gap where that new frock should go. “T declare, Jocelyn,” would burst out. “If I can’t get for a yarn, I think I'll go crazy.” Jocelyn quite understood how tantaliz- she found her fallowness. She had se > from the blue just but she never as eyes, unfillal she an idea ing these bolts strike “new EVENING POST t @y ain = Makes 25 furniture | SO sparkles clean..it A like glass, NOT ONLY POLISHES—but removes stains and grey spots Avoids costly refinishing \ \ fc wish to send you free a small = gIas st as vou v oi } -_ . oS ? theo Sap lin Polishing ( ream Note th ly - . t isa pure creamy liquid as odorless as absolutely no trace of ot T} water—and as harmless to your hand make this test with th A few drops applied with cheese- use. Th fer cloth will remove stains and grey spot from mahogany and other polished su Bottle OJ polisn FREI faces—often saving costly refinishing. «3 ,.., at) A ‘ ut to It actually makes pianos and furni’ yp as t f ture so immaculate that they sparkle Sap P ( t like glass. aia al dd on Furthermore, thiscream benefits your few dro} A furnit‘ire—serves as a food for tl 1 other t t t l face hin | I € w t t face ¢ SK1 Print 1 It 1 gossamer y of fr Surfaces t i tw Y polishe f is if ttle w f APOLIN CO. INc., Dept. K-5, 229 E. 42d St., New York, U.S. A. Manufacturers of } auuad rAINS—GILDINGS VARNISHES—WAXES— POLISHES — LACQUERS

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17 g THE SATURDAY Look at that dus ~ ~ why cant we have weather strips now : Dust! Grime and soot too—everywhere and on everything. How typical this is and how strongly it indicates the need for Chamberlin Weather Strips. Every building—every home needs Chamberlin Weather Strips. Not only to eliminate chilling draughts and destruc- tive rain leakage at windows and doors—not only to save tuel and to make possible the maintenance of uniform temperatures —but to protect furnishings in residential buildings from costly depreciation. Dust, soot, rain and snow force an entrance through the cracks around unstripped windows and doors. Chamberlin Weacher Strips and Chamberlin Plasti-Calk seal these cracks completely and permanently. Chamberlin means more than a correctly designed—quality Weather Strip. The name Chamberlin signifies a scientific weather-stripping service that has proved its efliciency for 34 years. Exclusively in- stailed by factory branches of the Chamberlin Company, the largest company of its kind, Chamberlin equipment is guar- anteed and serviced “for the life of your building”. Return coupon for complete information. CHAMBERLIN WEATHER STRIPS “SINCE 1893-THE STANDARD” Over 100 Sales and Service Branches Throughout the United States oo eo Satan. 1 CN ) Chamberlin Metal Weather Strip Co. |\” A { ‘ West Lafayette Blvd., Detroit, Mich. C ain a \ Pl terature on Chamberlin W eath- i| In-Dor-Seals. Also a tree est | ie OF a 11 s ping my home which yu - \ . “ ors RA “T LA Gl EVENING POST the lift of wide, unseeing eyes, and parting of half-breathing lips with which her Pamela received them. Then Pameia, chuckling and excited, would be scribbling for dear life for days after. Followed the check. Yes, as Pamela said, it was the very infernal ease of the thing that make it most maddening to be unable to achieve it now. “You are getting into a state over it, Pam,” soothed Jocelyn, and tried to feel a grown-up resignation. “I shall do very nicely as I am, darling, because there won't be any big parties, you know. Remember how little difference it will make a hundred years from now.” “T can't,” snapped Pamela viciously. ‘*Nothing would ever get done if we felt like that.” But rebel as she might, sponge and turn her last year’s brain as she did, she could not make a new dress of it. Jocelyn de- parted for her visit, taking the maid with her. On this Pamela had insisted. ‘**T don’t want her for anything, and just think, I won’t have to feed her!” she said impishly. ‘‘With my finances at their present neap tide, that’s a consideration.” Ogden, who came to take her out to din- ner, found her in a perverse mood. She seemed, for her, depressed and nervous. “T think you might tell me what is the matter with you, Mistress Shere,”’ he said, eying her neglected plate at table. ‘ Per- haps you think you don’t need to sing for your supper if you don’t eat it, but I tell you frankly I am accustomed to a little polite conversation with my meals.” Pamela burst out laughing. ‘I have the hump,” she said. “It always takes me this way when my work goes badly, and I am never anything but savage when I am hard up. And when the two come together it is almost more than I can bear.” To Ogden the idea of her needing money was ridiculous. ‘‘But why should you be hard up, my dear girl?”’ “That’s the same old chicken-and-egg conundrum,” retorted she. “If my brains were working, I should be well-to-do.” “That is not what I meant,’’ Ogden cor- rected her. ‘‘You might be decently pally enough to let me lend you what you want.” Pamela turned a furious red. ‘‘No,’’ she said shortly. ‘‘ And without snapping my head off,”’ he added, smiling. ‘“*Oh, dear, I'm sorry! I mean, I’ve pad- dled my own canoe so long, John. I’ve never had much trouble doing it, though it has sometimes been, as the darkies say, ‘chicken today and feathers tomorrow.’ But I can’t borrow, even from you, in this state of mind. Thank you just as much. I’m not in any sad condition, you know. It just so happens that I’ve a very special hole which could be neatly filled with a few dollars. Let’s not think about it.” ‘But what’s the use then of my having all this money, Pamela?”’ “‘Well, I suppose some way had to be de- vised to make it hard for you to get into heaven,” she smiled. He held her smile a moment with his “You can say pretty things some- ‘I suppose eyes. times, Pam,”’ he said wistfully. it’s just the Irish of you.” ‘It’s the very heart of me,” said Pamela, but not to him. By the time she had fallen asleep that night, the healing flood of her love had washed away all her petulant mood. The world with John Ogden in it was too rich a gift to be received with anything but a joyous gratitude. Why should she set her fears and selfishness in Jocelyn’s path to- ward her destiny? Why should she fret and fume because a little trick she had of stringing words together in amusing com- binations seemed to have failed her? In | the sweet darkness that brings sleep and dreams, she stretched herself out like a tired swimmer in summer waters, to float in | the soothing sea of her love for John, letting the tide bear her where it would. A sunlit morning did nothing to prepare her for the black hours that the day was to bring. She sang in her little kitchen, get- ting her own breakfast, and set a table for June 11,1927 herself in the open window of the living room. The pretty blue and pink and white daisies in the balcony looked at her with bright, friendly faces. Pippa was surely passing. All was weil with the world. Nor did classic premonition descend upon her with the arrival of the telegram. These jaundiced missives were too common, in the hit-and-miss existence of the inheritor of a circus, to surprise her. She signed the boy’s book and carried the message back to her table before she opened it. It was, of course, from Jocelyn, as she had supposed, but not one of those gay little good morn- ings she was accustomed to receiving on the rare absences of her housemate. ** All going on to pompish house party for week-end. Oh, Pamela, no bolt threaten? John Ogden to be there.”’ The sunshine seemed to drain out of the room even as the blood faded from her cheeks. At the first swift reading she merely wondered why he had not told her that he was going. But immediately the connotation of the second and third sen- tences rocked the earth under her feet like a little boat. Her hands fell into her lap weakly, and the paper fluttered to the floor. John Ogden to be there! She felt again that clinging, silent clasp about her body, that warming cheek pressed so close against her own. The blood seemed to stand still in her veins. When reaction came it drove her to her feet, walking again and again the length of the great room, with frequent jerking stops and tortured startings. Her thoughts raced along, encountered the swelling barriers of emotion, and fell back into mere incoher- ence to begin again. A mirror caught her once, to show her a pale face with eyes that burned like blue flames. She went nearer, staring at her- self. But what she saw was Ogden’s face, with its lean cheek where the smile had cut a mark, its gray long eyes between half- closed lids, its mouth so ready for a laugh, the brown hair frosted at the temples. Og- den was older than she by a year or two. But, oh, Jocelyn was nineteen! Age did not matter, but youth—youth, how it counted. How had she been so mad to dream of love when nineteen stood her rival in the field? Jocelyn, so pretty, so fair, so worth the win- does ning. The sickening nausea of a nameless shame swept her away from the mirror. In her blind ignorance, had she truly loved Jocelyn’s man? The thought was torture, suffocation. She went to the open window as if she needed air, and stood leaning there looking out and upward at asky she had be lieved to be blue. And memory, which fairly clawed through its tokens like a frantic searcher going through a well-filled chest, finally paused exhausted, pensive, surrounded by a scattering miscellany of old forgotten far-off things. If it could seem unnatural during that heaven-happy ritual of tea with John not to have remembered the Ogden wealth, that simple old house where she had first met him, where she had occasionally visited father and mother before that, held forth few reminders of those oily millions. It was just one of a myriad houses like it in the New York that was now so rapidly pass ing under the wreckers’ and_ builders’ changes: A narrow high brownstone dwell ing with a preposterous flight of steps, up- ward from the street, high studded rooms disproportionately long for their width, and a seeming plethora of black walnut wood- work. There had been no display of un- limited resources there, neither of money nor, alas, of taste. The furniture was of that period when one might confidently ex- pect in the parlor at least one triangular chair of fretted black knobs and spindles upholstered in an unearthly shade of blue- green plush. The dining room, she remem- bered, was accurately toned to set off suet puddings with hard sauce. On the newel of the stair, a bronze figure, caught in a pose to make one’s muscles ache in sympathy, up- held a lamp in which the gas jet ever weirdly whistled. It was an awful house, Continued on Page 181) his

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Continued from Page 178 unchanged to this day, where a little old man and woman lived utterly among their penatic horrors, but a dear house because of that content. Curious that she should have met John there and not have known at once who he was! Already she had been looking forward to her marriage with the brilliant Anthony Shere, whose life work, like her father’s, had gone into a million wastebaskets with the discarded daily newspaper. It was quite true that she had scarcely noticed John, incredible as it should seem. Her wedding had been that very year t seemed to her, as she thought of it, quite simply the marriage of somebody else. Yet she remembered happiness. They had all lived together in one ring of the circus she, and her father, and her husband, and little Jocelyn—with an everchanging ka- leidoscope of shifting fragments of the jour nalistic personnel for friends For her in a sense it had been a dual ex- istence, with a little girl to begin an early day in a flat that housed two men just going to bed about the time of Jocelyn’s waking. She had lived on schedule, getting her sleep during Jocelyn’s outings, and ommencing the morning with a breakfast that coincided with the child’s luncheon. But her everspringing vitality had easily adapted itself to exigency, and certainly there had been nothing about that life to The world itself —up- heaving wars, pestilences, murders, fam- nes, discoveries and inventions — had seen to it that their daily labor knew unending novelty of interest. Men came and went to other desks, to other deaths—even her father and Anthony who seemed so right- fully among the quick. That chapter of her story had come to an end, leaving her with Jocelyn just past her twelfth birthday and she herself still young, still with her modest later fame unguessed. With the cessation of two fairly generous Pamela had been faced with a more meager existence than that which she had always known, yet even with the need for additional income it had been some time before she had seriously begun to write. Scribble, she always had, though her de- lightful humor had for the most part been expended vocally, and it would be impos- sible to say how many of those flashes of Celtic wit that had become newspaper history her unthinking father had care- lessly appropriated at his own table. From a humble start in cheaper magazines, she had, however, taken an early flight into pages that reckoned at a high rate per word, and had the half-astonished satisfaction of earning more money a year than Anthony Shere had done himself. Jocelyn had been sent to an expensive content grow monotonous. alariles, school, not because of its social advantages but quite absurdly because it was housed next door. By the time Pamela had taken on the great extravagance, this pseudo- baronial hall which made so splendid a setting for her precious heirlooms and ac- quisitions, Jocelyn was old enough to fare farther to her classes. Dancing lessons, music, and even riding in the park had been added to the curriculum of a singularly lucky orphan, and though Pamela never saved a dollar, she managed by the end of every year to observe with considerable pride that both ends had been made to meet in a handsome bow. It was probably the knowledge of that small but safe monthly check from the trust company —a joint provision made for her by Anthony and her father -that was Pamela’s undoing from an economic stand- point. If worse came to the worst, and the vein of golden imagination proved to be worked out, they would still be secure, if The pass- ing years brought a drain upon the bank not so luxuriously comfortable. account through Jocelyn’s social successes, ut Pamela remained contented with her circus. Life in the past had been richly colored. It had, since that moment of revelation when she had met Ogden face to face and THE SATURDAY recognized him as her love, put on aspring tide of its own. And here in this hour she stood, with flowers crumbling to dust in her fingers, light stricken from the sky and all song hushed It was high noon before her daily ego took charge of the distraught self. A purels physical weakness creeping over her gave her a prosaic warning that uneaten breal fasts are not sustaining. The old Pamela Shere touched her stone-cold coffee cup and glanced at her wrist watch. One of her was astonished that it should be after twelve, the other had lived years since the message One of her took the other rather to task. ‘‘Are you going to stand came. sharply around here all day, bending your eye or vacancy?” She stooped and picked up the faller telegram. Dear Jocelyn I tiful thing. In love! Her first tears were misty in her eyes as she read the message again. What was that phrase bolt threaten?”’ Like the clown’s laughter, it put the anticlimax to her passage through the shadow. Jocelyn wanted a new dress, to wear for John Ogden. “It’s really funny,” she said. ‘‘I can see that it’s funny, but I can’t laugh.” Out of the comprehensive agony of her being —-Pamela seemed to herself one vast substantial heartache—emerged a childish but vigorous resolve, a cradled Hercules of determination, strangling serpents. lyn was going to get that frock, did she make it of her own skin. Could she do other than dress her with all the girl’s dreams for her lover's eyes? Could she endure her own companionship if she failed, however inno- cently, to add that brightness to Jocelyn’s beauty for John to see and desire? At her dressing table, rolling her lively hair into the close swathing that drew so perfect a line around her shapely head, she looked resentfully at her own cranium. “If only I could put you into a pot and light a fire under you!” she said savagely. But inspiration, like the raven croaking,‘‘Never- more!’’ perched and sat and gave no evi- dence of wings. And if she thought that the bust of Pallas had nothing on her in the way of marble where her brains should be, it was because she had been badly brought up by a slangy father. “I must get out of this place and stand this town on its helpless head till something falls out of its pockets,”’ she told herself “It will give me up a plot or I'll dear young beau “does no Joce- angrily. sink it.” She dressed rapidly and flung out of her haunted rooms. A long walk up the Ave- nue would set her blood to moving, a casual prowl through the shops would certainly prove a stimulus. If she did but see the gown for Jocelyn, the devil was in it but she would get it for her. Resolutely she pressed down and closed the lid on thoughts of herself, of John. That way lay the utter stupefaction of misery, while she needed every sense alert. Some unconscious benefactor would do some thing, say something, look like something that would resolve itself, in the old miracu- lous way, into one of those checks. And because she needed the money immediately she would, with the story once beginning to brew in her, set aside for this single emer- gency her life-long habit of refusing to bor row. She would even go to John Ogden to do it. It should be part of her cleansing of that ugly imputation, set upon her by a fantastic conscience, that she wanted to keep him for herself. In the little inner room of exclusive im- portations, set aside from lesser frocks in temples dedicate to feminine beauty on the upper Avenue, she was im- mediately accepted as a rightful visitor. A suave female, who belied her general queen liness by wearing the bracelets of a slave, undertook to soothe her into an extrava gant purchase, despite her open statement that she was not come prepared to decide on anything. Patient neophytes trotted back and forth from secret stores of Parisian one of the Golcondas, bringing one quaintly christened gown after another, the while the high ‘é priestess drawled her adulatory chatter of EVENING POST be drove it right back to the garage” ALLOWING ordinary window Of; glass to be used in replacing it broken windows or windshields tl resultsin distorted vision,as th door on your right plainly shows. — « The door on your left, how ever, 1s glazed with polished G Plate Glass. Its surt \ never wavy orirregular, but ar l; flat and parall Plate Gl P nvari nk 1 ( . truthful nag 1k I I via ends beaut\ t t your Cal It sr » 2 } and p he i ul t t not pres t the vn gE gi ES PLATE tt xt \ tt ; P] } \ ‘ p tl 1 + |} } 3) } al t ; i \ i ' Vantag ul W ‘ (; &- G \I ‘ of \) B ) Pires }) i i

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THE SATURDAY ML, y WY Yo HAT 1s more beautiful than a smooth, freshly v4 mowed lawn? A rich carpet of grass—restful and cooling—is surely a source of enjoyment and pride, the final touch that makes home home. With an Eclipse Lawn Mower you, too, may have a thick turfed, close shaven, brilliant, green lawn. A simple turn of one thumb screw adjusts The Eclipse— another patented feature makes it entirely self sharp- ening. One hardware merchant in each community is showing the Eclipse line of mowers. Be sure to see them before selecting your new mower. The price range is from $10 to $25—depending on size and model. Hardz are meri hants will find it worth their Rep } } , . 7 While to Write us about the Eclipse Franchise The Lapy—a mower, moderate in price, yet sturdy, easy running and dependable. The PropHetT—another Eclipse-built model. Fully guaranteed, well made, easy running and does good work. n Eclipse-built popular Let us send our new booklet-—“A Beautiful Lawn.” You will find in it much authoritative information on the care and upkeep—the simple measures necessary to have the lawn of your desires. Booklet is sent on request. yy Y The Eclipse Machine Co., Prophetstown, Illinois — a EVENING POST ’ this great name and that as “featuring,”’ stressing ’’ and “innovating”’ bows, fringes and drapes. Jocelyn’s frock quite suddenly appeared. It was there, un fait accompli, indubitably hers—a shimmering heaven- blue satin with a violet underside turned ; softly up at the hem of the full skirt to be caught so with cushiony silk flowers of palest rose. It brought a little cry of sated an- ticipation from Pamela. ‘Shall I set it aside for you, madam?’ was the insinuating temptation. ‘Oh, I must have it, yes,”’ said Pamela Shere breathlessly. How Jocelyn’s fair radiance would surpass itself, eclipsing the perfection of this envelope. She must, she would, tear it from the hands of fortune for ’ | her darling’s high hour. ‘I will come back,” | up in she said resolutely. And even as she gave the saleswoman her most confident smile, she was thinking: ‘“‘This twenty-five- dollar-a-week duchess has got a story in her, if I could only see it!” She wandered about the great shop for an hour, exposing herself to the lightning that would not strike. In the shoe department a curious female with the drawn fleshlessness of a lifted face and a pair of undisguisably fat ankles, gave her a moment’s hope. She casually took a place next to this prospect, and began a slow canvass of the available slippers in the shop while she listened avidly to the woman’s talk with her companion. How often had she utilized these unconscious slaves to make her bricks, with and without straw. There must be a plot in this un- naturally chinless creature, buying foot- wear carved like an apple tart for her dreadful feet. “TI just thought I’d die, Angie, when them artichokes came on. I guess I got as red as my hat. That bonehead told me she knew how to fix ‘em, and here she brings ‘em in—just the leaves, Angie, all messed the hollandaise so you couldn't touch ’em. She’d took the bottoms out and thrown ’em in the garbage, Angie. And with just them particular people to din- ner. I really thought I'd die. It looked like nothing but I didn’t know how to serve artichokes myself. ‘Here,’ says I, ‘take these things away.’ The dumb-bell. I bet that snooty Mrs. Pearce laughed at me when they was to home. . . . I thought I'd die, Angie r Pamela gave it up. “I think I would better bring the frock in,”’ she said, with so lovely a smile to the clerk that he felt a | distinct lift in his naturally low spirits. A slender little woman with a pale lan- | guid child, at the glove counter, was talk- | ing to a friend behind that barrier and | voice. buying nothing. Pamela edged closer in the press, eavesdropping like any spy. - do think it’s dreadful to take a youngster to the shops,” said the plaintive ‘But I haven't got a nurse for the kiddy just now. You don’t know how hard | didn’t take her. it is to get one you can trust. My dear, the last one I had! I found out she used to take Lottie out every morning and spend the whole time visiting her friends—serv- ant girls in apartment houses and people like that. Goodness knows where And I, thinking all the time they were out in the air! You can’t trust " Pamela found no nourishment in thin porridge. If only she could call out ‘‘Is there a person in the house who is living a she this | story?"’ as they cried for a doctor in the theater. The vision of the delectable frock swam before her eyes, and her lips closed more firmly than ever. An elderly lady matching net for the mending of rare old lace brought her along- side. She was very beautifully dressed, and the lace in her hand was priceless. “It’s the nearest I can find,’’ she said | “Send me an eighth of a yard, and charge it: ment. Mrs. B. F. Ponsonby, Park Avenue. Yes, Pon-son-by.”’ She turned a face, har- assed and more than a little flushed, to her companion, an anxious, thin-chested, obvi- ous subordinate. “‘But what on earth am I to do?” she said, continuing an old la- “They’re all invited to the camp, June 11,1927 and I’ve got to have a chef. Doesn’t Miss Allen know anybody who will go for just a week? I told that devil of a Jules this morning I’d give him a bonus of a month’s wages if he’d go, but he says the mountain air does not agree with him. He actually said the mountain air did not is Pamela, on a sigh, almost voiced her ex- asperation. Did women talk of nothing but their servants? She swept out of the store and wandered impatiently down the Avenue. At the door of an antique shop a lettered red flag flapped in the warm air. Should she go in? Surely there must be something at an auction Pamela’s feet halted, stepped forward once, and brought her to astand. Her lips parted, her stared a bit upward. Above her, without warning, the blue had parted and the bolt struck down. One cannot stand, even to receive in- spiration, in the middle of Fifth Avenue. Impatient people passing her jostled Pamela until she woke to life. The rapt look faded from her face, and her lips curved into the first smile they had known for many hours—lips that had scarcely thought to smile again, quivering to un- uttered words, flinching from an indescrib- able humiliation. She drew a breath and tasted deep of relief. And the taxi did not hover near that forbidden cruising channel that could whisk her home fast enough. Later that afternoon she presented her- self at that odd little private office on Seventeenth Street where the head of one of the world’s great oil syndicates trans- acted his humble affairs. There was indeed a towering building down on lower Broad- way that bore the magic name, but old Mr Ogden preferred his original place of busi- ness, just as he refused to leave his old home. It was as dun and modest a place as Tellson’s bank, though no young clerks were kept invisible till they became appro- priately musty. A half dozen smart lads held the outer room, who seemed to regard her entrance as the reward of an early start in mercantile life. She was lovely enough, glowing now as she always did when in- spiration had descended, to brighten a much larger reception room than she was shown into by one of these young chaps, clever enough to reach her first. *‘T’ll see if Mr. John Ogden is still here,”’ he said. ‘‘He sometimes goes out without coming through our office. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” “Isn't it?’’ Pamela gave him the smile for which he waited. One minute later she was sitting opposite to John, loving him, but with such a differ- ence, across the desk. If everything had been as it was when she had had tea with him, she would have made herself her very prettiest for his eyes, but, although even her customary prinking and preening had seemed impossible to her that day, John Ogden was quite positive he looked upon the fairest face in Christendom. “It is only right to tell you, Pamela,” he told her happily, “‘that by coming in here to overturn an office full of men, you are probably costing my poor father a million dollars.” ‘*Plus three hundred,” said she calmly. His forehead wrinkled to understand this curious sum. “Not exactly that,” Pamela emended, ‘‘because my intentions are, as ever, honorable. I shall pay it back promptly.” “Oh, I see.’ He laughed, reaching for a drawer of his desk, the mere act of taking out his check book giving him an absurd thrill of delight. To have Pamela come into his office and sit there at the other side of his desk while he made out checks for her! But she would have none of it. ‘‘ Not to cast any discredit on your paper,” she said, ‘*T must confess I'd rather have bank notes, if it’s all the same to you.” “Tt is barely possible that we can scrape up the appalling amount you mention,”’ re- plied Ogden. ‘‘Sure that’s all you want?” ““Not a penny more, thank you, John. Let’s see, today’s the sixteenth. You shall eyes cost ing Continued on Page 185

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iREs by LEE of Conshohocken are priced to meet competi- tion, but the quality is above it. We would rather make them better than the price, than price them better than they are. The “Shoulderbilt” Heavy-Duty Balloon is over over-size. More value; more rubber. It makes other heavy- duty tires look stunted. Users say more miles, betterservice. Sowillyou. The Lee Balloon is a new appli cation of the balloon idea with all the resiliency, flexibility and easy- riding that you expect of real bal- loons; with plus mileage. Slightly lighter than the “Shoulderbilt” and priced accordingly. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST - ‘ y 4 ANS AN be HES BS Adee AN Lee DeLuxe High-Pressure Cords for heavy loads and high speeds; and the faithful and original Lee Puncture-Proof to insure you against punctures (both in Balloons and High-Pressure). For Fords, Chevrolets and Stars, where the demand is less strenuous, we have the “Leeland,” a new cre- ation giving more than is usually expected of such a tire. Staghound Solids, built for tough work, are perhaps the most econom- ical of all truck tires. There’s a Lee tire for every re- quirement and a Lee dealer nearby to tell you what you should use; and supply it. COST NO MORE TO BUY ~ FAR LESS TO RUN

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are é | , ar ervenenettee 8% Sparton’s rank am« ngt he leaders of the radio industry is easily understood when artons quarter-century of ve a WwW vent in other fields* is remembered Without this foundation such rec: tion would have come none the ed surely, tor Sparton Radio is the most ivanced expression of Radio science nd of electrical and cabinet craftsman- ship. Spartom models range from the erlative “110 A.C.”, a light socket receiver requiring no batteries of any kind—to battery operated sets of out- tanding performance lo if Rak 3 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 eae FY A Song ~— i im naene nx noone . ~s ue . 2 EB LAO AIS WE Pk Ce RR Te aC ER a & Like a Rare old Violin ~ Rich -Vibrant~-Soul-Stirring SPARTON RADIO The Pathfinder of the Air’ The Sparks-Withington Company, Jackson, Michigan, U.S. A. Pioneers of Light-Socket Radio without batteries of any kind ,

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Continued from Page 182 it back by the twenty-fourth. you'll want my note of hand?” His wallet gave up some trim yellow bills which he held toward her. He would not lay them on the desk for her to pick up. But Pamela, who in a less preoccupied mo- ment might have caught the meaning of the game he was so boyishly playing, them without a flicker of her lids. ‘““‘What about tea, Pamela?”’ “Not today,”’ said she, rising promptly. ‘I’m off on a most important errand.” **Give me back that money,” said Ogden But Pamela only laughed, though for one moment her heart had quivered with dis- have pose I sup- took tress. How could he think that she should sit at table with him today when every- thing had changed? But then, he did not know. She thanked God it would never occur to him to guess. “Shall I thank you, John? think my ‘this time doesn't count’ Rip’s. Behold my first and last borrowed money.”’ She put it into her hand bag and shook his hand in a calm, friendly way, though the touch of his fingers set bells to ringing in her head. It was not yet too late to redeem her pledge to the slave duchess, if she fairly rushed away. “‘T must hurry,” she said on a sudden breathless note, and did it. All very well to be strung up to concert pitch by the per- verse delight she took in accomplishing her Jocelyn’s dreams, but there was for herself a very conscious desire to get away from John. One of the Pamelas could rush about on brisk errands while the other dragged leaden feet about the empty ruins of her life. The exquisite frock, with a discovered pair of pale rose satin slippers, was packed with reams of tissue into a box, and a reck- lessly hired messenger dispatched to the Long Island address, with not more than an even thousand injunctions to carry the package with the utmost care. She even sent a telegram to Jocelyn: ‘‘Gown on its way; cut off the bolt of blue. Be happy in it, darling.”” She might have telephoned, but she felt queerly uncertain of her voice. Well, it had been a long day, she told her- self, matter-of-factly. She was only tired. You must not is like Punctual to the very day, on the twenty- fourth she drew a check for three hundred dollars, put it, with a little word of greeting, in an envelope, and posted it herself to Ogden’s office. He would perhaps not be there yet, but she was irrationally glad to e the letter on its way. "A week of arduous work was nothing new to Pamela, who had been known to sit at her desk twelve hours on end on more than one occasion, but now that her stint was finished she found that she was indeed : very weary girl. The big place she lived in seemed very empty, when she let “herself into the apartment, but Jocelyn would be coming home soon—with what of news? She decided on a hot bath, a regular thoroughgoing beauty treatment, a glass of warm milk and a short rest. Then she would put on her very best negligee, set out her Sheffield tray with a bang-up tea, and luxuriate in being a woman of leisure. All these things she accomplished slowly, and even dreamily. The let-down from her driven week was upon her, but her resilient vitality welled up under sagacious restora- tives. She was rather astonished to find, when she had donned a lovely tea gown of creamy lace, that never had she looked bet- ter in her life. It was extraordinary that her depression of heart should not show in her face. There were her eyes shining away like stars superior to mundane sadness, her cheeks were quite as pink as if happiness dwelt in her. Well, so much the better, thought, as she prepared her quite elabo- rate tea. She hadn't finished making Jocelyn happy when she gave her the magic frock, not by a good many years~— forty or so belike. A nice thing to begin showing wear and tear at the very outset. She had filled the place with fresh flowers and the windows open, and ranged her tray on the table that always she set she ar-

THE SATURDAY stood conveniently near her del comfortable But just about to make sure that her preparations were complete before settling herself there the bell rang. ‘Now, drat it all, Sincerely cared for all bers of the who, indeed, not belonged to that strictly group, she had no wish to see today. It could not be. who would have her key, but it might just be Mary sent on ahead. She moved over to the door and opened it to Johr For a moment stood transfixed, too gen- uinely surprised to say so But John gave may. “Oh, Lord, ously couch as she looked who's this?” the eise as she mem- would eclect ic of them circus, have one

Jocely used Ogden she h ler a comic al look of di S- you giving a party : Pamela made a n ‘Well, if you call this a party!”’ she said, and made at the empty room. ‘But, my dear girl, do you get yourself up like this to have tea alone?”’ He looked her over with very evident interest. ‘Perhaps I felt it in the Irish me that you were coming,”’ she answered ightly. ‘‘Come in, then. The pot brewed, and there are caviar sandwiches.” ‘You are a most amazing woman Ogden. “I thought it was quite ge nerally understood that women alone nibbled soda crackers and pickles.” And if by any chance you have come to dun me,” Pamela, getting into the comfort of her pillows, ‘‘you are too late. Because I’ve posted you my check. To- day’s the twenty-fourth,” she added, as he showed her a puzzled face. ‘Every virtue!” said Ogden. “Well, I have been out of town, or 1 should have been hanging about to see if your ships came in. So your argosy was not cast away coming from Tripolis?”’ “You'll get no pound of flesh, only sand- wiches,” “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out of town?” “] didn’t think it would interest you. Didn’t—did Jocelyn write you?” His mild bewilderment could have passed any- where under suspicion for well-carried em- barrassment. * Jocelyn are otab le recove ry. a sweeping gesture bones of is Just ,’ said said she said. never writes,’’ said Pamela with utter calm. ‘‘ You saw her?”’ ‘““Well, rather. We've been dragged the wheels of Mrs. Marriot-Smith’s chariot, which I might explain has a double-eight Nothing more vividly brings to my consciousness the fact that Malay massa- cres are greatly overrated than to get into one of these up-to-date house parties. If I ever hear a radio again, Pamela, | shall be carried shrieking to a padded cell.” Pamela drank a little tea and rearranged her cushions. Against their collected shades of yellow, from palest daffodil to nasturtium orange, her face showed clear as ivory, her hair pushed forward, softly black, around her flowerlike eyes. “T dare say you know,” said Ogden, “that you are criminally lovely to look at.” “T want to know, on the contrary, how Jocelyn looked,” A hard-bitten wish to get it over with had taken posses- sion of her. But her hands trembled so that she had had to put down her cup. “Of course you do. Jocelyn told me engine. she said. She looked—let me see how one can de- scribe her—something superlatively ex- quisite. She looked as if you had dressed her.” ** Toce lyn told you what?” ‘I think it is not too much to say that she told me everything, with a capital E.” ‘How much longer,’’ asked Pamela se- verely, ‘‘are you going on like that?” ‘Like 4 ‘Round and eo d the mulberry bus h,’ she said. ‘* What did Jocelyn do or say? * Jocelyn wore the dress, and said no to three Pamela sat up among her pillows. ‘ You mean to tell me that chit of a child had three proposals?”’ she cried. ‘It’s my duty to tell you she had four,” was Ogden’'s answer, given with another touch of that elusive discomfort Pamela for a moment looked away and gathered her shaken ‘Having a swains.” forces.

EVENING POST

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ISG CLARK. Be it kt T} N yl How eC ARRUOLA MAST For that tittle of shach in the Woods! VW, THE SATURDAY LIGHTER a week Yesterday’s lighter was a fearsome mechanical Works 168 hours contrivance that might or might not work. Today’s—a Clark—is a safe, sure-fire smoke igniter. No chance for this to fly open and start a vest pocket fire! The Clark is a jeweler-made dress article with clock-round working hours. And what a variety of precious metal, fine leather and specialty finishes! Your favorite shop will sell you one for $7.50 or $200. or any one of a number of in-between prices. Manufactured by W. G. CLARK & CO., Inc., North Attleboro, Mass. Showrooms 584 Fifth Ave., New York We've made men’s jewelry since 1881 UO G ER ot ff “ES is { ‘ \ je t . TOON i? \ YAS at I that there are, roughly, but two kinds of the woods. One tucked away, remote and - but not lonesome, beloved by those ? ipamonably with other shack n cottag The wilds are all around { 1 vs with human cheer I 1 preter, Yarryola Master will } tl fe within. When it’s dark, n dr wi ve Outside's bad and rt up the Carryola } ( ¢ irand vs trot ut! F r ! nd-ra trel just strur 1 | ‘ fler, real music. With f the new, lar 1d more ( M ‘ (yr } r T M4 . } ) | ‘ OMPANY of AMERICA 8 Chr Srreee Milwaukee. Wis EVENING POST mathematical mind,” she said, after that inconsiderable pause, ‘‘I make it that she must have said yes to one of them.” ““Well,”’ Ogden hesitated and came out with the truth in a sort of desperation, “‘she did. Pamela, you are not going to be a stuffy parent, are you?” ““I am completely unstuffed,’’ she an- swered, wondering if her voice was quite as natural as it should be. A touch of the chipper would be dreadfully out of place, yet it was so difficult to lift her tone. ‘* Why don’t you go on?” “Jocelyn wanted me to come and tell you first,”” he said. ‘She will be in any moment now. It was entirely her idea.” He cravenly denied any instigation of this plan as he saw that curious shadow fall over her fixed eyes. Pamela felt suddenly weak and ill. She drew herself to her feet, apparently to cross to another table for a cigarette. But all she wanted was to turn her back on John Ogden. She could have borne it all but this. Her hands closed with a grinding pressure on the little silver box, but she made no move to open it. Her eyes stared unseeing across the room. “So Jocelyn guessed,” she was saying g to herself, as incoherently, for al! her silence, as a woman sobbing aloud. ‘She’s sorry for me. She couldn’t bear to tell me. She knew I'd hear it best from John, show nothing She’s sorry for me.” “IT thought myself you'd think it a piece of impertinence,” said Ogden gently, aware that all was not well with her. He knew what it was going to mean to Pamela to give up this happy life d dewr. The tempta- t h She has guessed. ion was sore to go to her and take her into is arms and try to comfort her, but had he not intruded far enough? The day was coming when he would have to tell her his own story this was no time for it, and did he but lay his hand upon her in the way of n him would over kindness, the passion ride all else. ‘*T wish you would come back and sit down again,”’ he said, with an effort to re- gain his usual tone with her. ‘I am sure you were not brought up to stand with your back toward a visitor.” She turned and leaned against the table where she stood, and obediently looked at him. She could not smile. ‘*Let us reason about the thing, Pamela. It is going to be a horrid wrench, I know, but he is such an awfully nice chap To his utter amazement and not a little apprehension, her face went suddenly quite white. In two strides he was beside her. **My darling girl, are you ill? You're not faint, dearest?”’ She did not trouble to deny it was all she said, her lips parched. “Who's who? Jocelyn’s young man? Why, young Jimmy Severance, known to his confreres, I believe, as Jymes. You couldn't pick out a better lad for her your self.” He looked down at her anxiously fighting to keep from « lutching at her near “Who?” ness ‘You said —it was your duty ‘*Well, only because they begged me to. They were afraid you'd think they were “too young, or something.” I pointed out,”’ he went on desperately talking at random, as he saw her eyelids flutter down over her eyes, ‘that if you are not young, you are still bound to be something. No, Pamela, I can't stand it. Dearest of all, what is the matter?”’ Pamela couldn't stand it either. Her hands caught at his coat, and she hid her John, I thought face against him. ‘John t was you!” she cried. John Ogden’s arms swept her up. “It is,” he said. ‘‘At least, it’s you and me Pamela Pamela, do you mean this? I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you. Are you just hanging on to me because you don’t want to cry where I can see you? Or can you--Pamela, do you mean do you this?”’ She let him lift her chin can't help crying. I’m so happy.” June 11,1927 ‘You've no idea what the word means,’ said he. “Just you try being in love for twelve years with a woman brilliantly be- yond your reach, and then have her pitch in and cry on your waistcoat. It may be unusual in these circumstances, but I feel that I am going to kiss you.” As her fingers twined in his, his own deep breath, like a sob, cut athwart his banter. ‘*Pam ela, beloved,”’ he whispered. No more than the rattle of a withdrawn key at the door announced Jocelyn’s ar- rival, which brought her in full on this tableau. Pamela raised her head from John Ogden’s shoulder at the sound of the girl’s gasp. “Darlings!” cried Jocelyn on a burst of understanding delight. She darted for ward and flung her arms about the two of them. ‘“‘If life isn’t just the most delirious thing! I’ve been so worried about you, Pam—and then I come home and find you going on like this! Why didn’t you tell me?’’ she demanded of John Ogden “Do you suppose I knew it?”’ said he indignantly. ‘‘And I playing around with you children? Do you suppose | thought for a moment she'd look at me? I always thought I bored her.” ‘Well, can you tie that!"’ cried the in- elegant generation, with a laugh. ‘‘ Pam, darling, with you-uns going on in this fashion, you can’t object to my having done something very like it?” ‘I don’t see how I can,”’ said Pamela. She freed herself with some difficulty from Ogden’s clasp and gave the girl a sound hug. ‘“‘Where’s Jymes?”’ ““Oh, Pam, how sweet of you to call him that. He’s coming up in ten minutes Gone to buy some flowers to ease himself >» in. I say, can’t we have a double wedding’? “No,” said John Ogden quietly Pamela, he’s begun already. ] understand just how Pam's the whole show, ** Look, Well, never mind you feel about it isn’t she? 1 think I'd better have some tea before I fly to pieces with all this ex citement. Oh, darling,”’ she gave Pamela an ecstatic little syueeze, ‘it was the dress that did it, I’m quite sure.” ae wish, en passant, you'd tell me why you telegraphed me that John was going to be at your party.” “Did 1? Well, it just slipped in, I sup- pose. Mrs. Marriot-Smith told me he was coming.”’ Pamela laughed and drew the girl down beside her on the couch. Her eyes dwelt for a moment in John’s and then turned to give a wholly loving attention to Jocelyn’s rap tures. ** Jymes liked the dress then? ‘*My angel, it did for him completely. Saturday night as ever was. At dinner I did feel sure I looked lovely it gives you the tingles. And Jymes reached out under the tablecloth and took my hand, and held it | didn’t get a mouthful of food all throug! ‘You missed the best dinner I ever ate. If 1 am to pre my figger and keep myself young **T saw it,” affirmed Ogden serve enough to pass for anything but Pamela's gouty uncle, I shall have to abjure the temptations of the Ponsonby chef.” Pamela nearly dropped the cup she was holding out to Jocely By ot: Ponsonby '’”? she said on a weird cry ‘“Oh, didn’t we tell you, darling? Mrs Marriot-Smith took us all up to a house party at the most regal place you ever saw. They call it a camp. In the Adirondacks But it is a regular private Ritz. It was at Mrs. Ponsonby’s that—that Jymes kept me from eating any dinner.” “That’s youth for you,” said Ogden. “When I think that you did not taste that ol-au-vent! You may laugh, Pamela, but you never in your life set teeth in such am 1 brosia.”’ Pamela gave up, gurgling with mirth as she let her lovely length slip prone into her satin cushions. ‘‘ Did I not?” she said, on a peal of laughter it wasn’t a story that bought your give-away dress. I ought to know about that dinner, my chil- I cooked it!” ** Jocelyn, dren

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 37

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ishevik gospel, this was quite in order; the Russian Empire was an empire won by was that good revolutionary, im- } onquest of subject peoples; anathema to the perialism, in its starkest form But the necessities of nations remain the whatever label they give themselves ig An innate necessity had for a couple of hundred years urged the Russian nation eastward toward Pacific, ‘ed the Soviet Same and whatever they wave. the warm and the same necessity Government, all other con- to pick up the pieces and fore Ss apart sideratior reconstitute the Russian Empire. By 1920 t had done so well that they had not ‘ recovered all the territory of the Czar- but had swallowed Mongolia in Once more the or of China, and in Manchuria confronted the Japanese soldier a ‘railroad guard,’’ while in beria the Japanese Government had “ mag- evacuated the last of its area too far north to be régime . ’ tion, tussian soldier stood the trontiers ting as a Si- nanimously ”’ troops from nting for its contemplation of the possibili- wort! But i ties of China, the Russian Government was ictuated’ by considerations additional to traditional drive to the sea. The as two aspects na- Nationally it is merely an object lesson in the always pos- that of the Viet Onal So Government |} and international sible success of a small but determined mi- nority of fanatics and adventurers; it is in fact a holdup of the Russian people the political system inaugurated by Lenine has far more ifically Bolshevism rests world revolution. Over ind over again the Bolsheviks reiterate this l their faith. Why this Internationally, however, ynifticance spec upon the thesis ol irdinal articie of ould be so is hard to discover, unless it is an obscure consciousness that the plainly 0 jus superior prosperity of capitalist countries will forever withhold them from oluntarily embracing the Bolshevik recipe ven induce the Russian Whatever the reason, slogan of World Revolution appeals i and to the loot mer riable companion. uin, and may ¢ people to discard it. Live equally to the fanatic chant who Is his inva Lenine’s Prophecy Those fanatics and those loot merchants have made sporadic appearances in Western zation since the end of the eighteent} entury, but never before have they had the accumulated wealth of an ancient em- pire and the resources provided by 120,000,- 000 people to play with. Never before has a high-pressure civilization produced so many disgruntled second-raters with abili tie incommensurate with their inflamed eyols! and frank throwouts, to be their I ve allies in every country. Never efore, In theory, have the prospects of world revolution looked so good at least to those abnormal brains which can think ol ott gy else 6 heviks see quite cle arly that there are two great obstacles to world revolutior the United States and the Brit- Wherever on the globe the emblem of either of those great communi- ties waves from the flagstaff there is sta- bility. The Bolsheviks hate both impartially sis the way with peo- j t} r tr 1 « And in their hatred, ¢ , the y be lie Ve th at if they could pie who hate or bring down one of those great pillars oO ation, the entire structure would collapse At the moment. however, the United states unattackabl directly. It is diffi- cult to persuade a population which in- ere owns its own motor cars and its n houses, which enjoys a standard of back, to ry unimagined a generatior : The British sa much more likely proposition At its heart oO mad and smash things up. it has the permanent corrosior f an average 1,000,000 of unemployed. It a econd largest political party which 1 i sceriet to the most THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE HIDDEN FORCES IN CHINA Continued from Page 4 stylishly exquisite pink. It has already suf fered huge economic losses, and the foreigr trade which was its source of diminished, and is still diminishing year | year; avery little extra damage might pro duce a decisive crisis in its in istry It aia A] togetner, in the eyes of Mos ow, it Is ripe possesses a potential volcano in lr for attack. Accordingly, since ain that the Bolshevi rhey have left al ble elsewhere whenever opp 1920, it is upon Brit ks have concentrated ttle over for assisting trou yotered In 1920, Lenine—who happened, for th misery of the world, to be a genius— wrote that it was in China that the British Em pire would be overthrown and the revolution initiated back, the official Soviet newspapers wert Only a month or requoting that prophecy in sardon glee, Young China Welcomed Outside Moscow no one took any notice of such insane absurdity; but to Moscow it did not look absurd. The little camarilla of despots ordered the immediate establish- ment of a propaganda-and-revolution col lege for yellow, black and brown students To that college Mohammedans and Hin- dus from India and from its border peoples, negroes from Africa and from the United States, Chinese from China were cordially invited, free of all charge and with subsist- provided Particularly the young Chinese welcomed, and enthusias- tically young China—or a section of young China—responded. For in this past genera- tion a new problem has presented itself China—the problem of what to do with its sons In a multitudinous stream, immensely in- creased the 1911 fashion of Westernization, thousands upon thousands of young Chinese have crossed the Pacific to American universities. Ac- cording to theory, and according tothe hopes of their zealous and sympathetic professors, they ought to have gone back to make a new China—a China transformed by great engineering works, by achievemer plied science, initiated and controlled by ence were since revolution set a ts In ap- scientists only to an all but of It did not happen —or } imperceptible extent. Such development or until recently existed work of of China is China as exists was still all but exclusively the foreigners, although the trade per capita only one-eighth of t Japan The opportunity was there in but somehow the young Wester he trade of bulk, educated Chinese have failed to grasp it. Instead, while the patient agricultural masses cor tinued to be the prey of the rival war lords, they sat around and talked bitterly of their thwarted lives -and with particular bitter ness of the foreigners making fortunes out of China mar It was this type which of young Moscow bosom. Intotheir e: young girl took ardent revolutionary it whispe red its exciting shibbolet} Keo nomic Communism” “China a Nation,”’ ‘China for the Ch **Expel the Bloodsuckir were the formulas was not one ot the nese,”’ Foreigr approved and far In while teaching the ge ntle arts of terrorism and mob management, Moscow took care Imperialists”’ more seductive to instill that vehemently fanaticized ha tred of Christianity which, te udge by its acts in Russia, In the past seven years many is its most deeply seated mo tive. i revolutionaries have been retur Ct ina—to work and wait It may not yet | Moscow — following the gospel « deified Lenine— proposes ti British Empire in China to produce the desired corollary of world lor the day be clear precisely |} ithe all ] » overthrow the revolution. We will take up a time positior In 1924 At that date China ke Cwsar’s Gaul m ght be broadly a aed into three parts. In the north, backing openly or . RTT ang . 4 ef | 1 | ; 'O achieve in your dining room the lovely effects you admire, correct | furniture must be your first consideration. And to make certain of irre proachable style and heirloom beauty, be guided by the Limbert shopmark ‘ for a quarter century a dependable assurance of quality and value. ; The new creations by Van Raalte craftsmen are designed to meet the living requirements of the modest as well as the elaborate home. Ask to see them at your dealer’s. ‘ CHARLES P. LIMBERT CO. Holland and Grand Rapids, Mich ; « a Furniture |i >A A\ it / | { { VAN RR ‘ i CRAY \ What Do YOU Say to Selling a Day for $12? , > if 2 | } for “I wrote you your offer because I thought I make a little ‘side | money’ during my could vacation,’ writes ‘I do not know vet Shirl H. Stewart, what my best day’s Montana. profit will be (he had bonus still to come when he ! think ame wrote but it will mt to between ne imal $15 Perhaps |! will do better witt more experience 900 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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ISO THE SATURDAY After all, your only interest in chocolates is to buy the best the world has to offer. Why not, then, ask for Gilberts and find out how amazingly different and good they really are? Gilbert Chocolate Company, Jackson, Michigan. John O. CHOCOLATES What Would You Buy You Had This Extra Cash? ¢ Mr. George Rose, of Ohio, found it easy to earn an average of $5.00 to $10.00 every week How about a car? Or a radio? haps vou would like more furn : new clothes. Whatever it is you want, if monev will buy it, we'll show vou how it can be yours! ow MuchDo You Need? You should earn as much as $5.00 to $25.00 a week extra in addition to your | nt income. QOur pla pleasant, gnifi and, as vou'll find, profitable! Best of all, 1t provides such a con ; er-) way to make money! Earn In Spare Time Whether you can spare only an hour or two a week, or an entire day, we will show vou how to turt ch ti into n ghb hoe ubDSCrI} on tativ | sisa lL opportu tv! Clatr with this coupor G The Curtis Publishing Company 821 Independence Square Philadelphia, Pennsylvania P tu t t f h off € EVENING POST covertly the successful Chang-Tso-Lin, Japan was virtually supreme in Manchuria. In the center, China was a battleground for numerous war lords of fluctuating for- tunes, with Peking plus the exiguous rev- enues of the central government as a prize for whoever happened to be temporarily lucky —the Anfu government had been thrown out on a wave of popular indigna- tion. In the south, Canton—always an- tagonistic to the north, where, save for the official mandarin tongue, common to all China, its language was incomprehensible was an independent although unacknowl- edged republic under Sun Yat-Sen, but with very strong Bolshevik affiliations. Commercially Britain had the lion’s share of the trade up the Yang-tse and up the great river from Canton; a share so large, indeed, as to be an appreciable pro- portion of the totality of her commerce. North of that area, Japan dominated the market right up to the Manchurian border, where she was in a perpetual squabble with Russia over the Chinese Eastern Railway from Harbin. Bolshevism was by no means encouraged in that sphere of influence; indeed, Japan was becoming unpleasantly aware of a red infection among her own proletariat. The revolution graduates from Moscow mostly came from and returned to Canton. That delectable republic had established a school for military cadets at Whampoa, under Russian military teachers, and had taken to itself Jacob Borodin as political adviser. In addition, General Gallent, or Gallents, of the Russian Red Army, had arrived as chief of staff. There was clearly the makings of some very pretty trouble in the locality of Can- ton, but that was scarcely sufficient. Brit- ish trade in the south might be damaged, but Britain would probably sit still and wait until the storm rolled by, as she had done on many previous occasions. At such a distance from their home bases, regular Russian troops as assistance to the Canton- ese were out of the question, yet what was wanted was some provocation into a real war that would most uncomfortably en- tangle Great Britain. The Russo-Japanese Treaty Despite a politely concealed sulkiness, Japan nevertheless kept up a friendly un- derstanding with Britain in the matter of trade rivalry, and most certainly she would view with sharp hostility any effective ex- tension of Russian influence in the south. On the other hand, the foreign politics of nations—and particularly of nations with ambitions being what they are, unques- tionably Japan would not lament at the total elimination of British and American influence in China. The memory of the Washington Conference was guaranty of that. A gentleman named Karakhan was soviet envoy at Peking. He commenced to talk pleasantly with the Japanese repre- sentative. What was said in those conversations is known only to the parties concerned. The result of them was that in January, 1925, a treaty between Soviet Russia and Japan was formally signed and a text thereof issued to the world. Curiously that text said not a about China. It was obviously the play of Hamlet with the part of the Prince of That small percentage word Denmark left out. | of humanity which is professionally inter- ested in the texts of treaties was reduced to suppositions. Let us therefore suppose a little, as rea- Let us begin by suppos- renounced that the sonably as we can. ing that Japan has not dream of an eventual supremacy i Orient which has been her guiding motive ever since she was electrified by the sound of Commodore Perry's guns that dream which caused her to seize the Riu-kiu Islands in 1874, sent her to war with China in 1894 and with Russia in 1904, which im- ed her to war with Germany — to whom was sympathetic the pel otherwise elimination of Tsing-tao in 1914. she for June 11,1927 The fourth of the decade se ems, indeed, a lucky year for Japan, and it is just possi- ble that something might have happened in 1924 —only the great earthquake of 1923, among other damage, fissured the great subterranean oil reservoirs at Yokosuka and the entire war reserve of oil was lost. It has now been restored. We will suppose then that some day she might be tempted to convert that dream into a practical reality. Such a step might conceivably provoke a war with Britain. Let us be frank and say at once that it most certainly would. The annual value of British trade with China is round £40,000,000. And Britain has no intention of conducting that trade through Japanese intermediaries, as, for example, it is at least advisable to do in Korea. some Russia’s Ace in the Hole Now anywhere within a radius of some 2000 miles from its naval bases the Japa nese fleet is unquestionably supreme. Any fleet invading that area would under pres ent conditions most assuredly be sent to the bottom. But outside that area Japan is equally powerless. She would immedi ately be subjected to a long-distance block ade which would be fatally synonymous with defeat. For Japan has no hinterland, and although after long experiments she has found a to convert the iron sands of Hokkaido into raw material for steel, she could not possibly maintain a war process against a first-class power without access to the munition factories of Europe. Rus sia controls precisely such an access — the Trans-Siberian Railway, which as a single track was the sole avenue of supply for an army of 700,000 men in the Russo-Japanese War, and is now doubled. It is at least pos sible that the use the Trans-Siberi Railway for the —of course, unthinkable eventuality of war with Britain was the card played by the soviet diplomat Something quite valuable, certainly, wa the price of friendship between Japan and that Bolshevik y principle is profoundly antipathetic to her traditional social system. As for Moscow the sole basis for overthrowing the fmpire in China and thereby initiating the world revolution was the veigling Great Britain into a war in the ot in government whose eve 2rit ritish nope of in- Kast. Things very soon began to move. Ir dition to an anti-British boycott organized from Canton, where there were some ugly ad incidents, a strike broke out in Shanghai it began in a Japanese-owned cotton mill and a howling mob of strikers led by revolu- tionary students was, in May, 1925, fired into by the International Police under the command of a British officer. Immediately a furious anti-British boycott and = agitation Shanghai and up the Yang-tse; tions were left pointedly exempt. It may seem odd that the agitation was directed as much against the Japanese as against the British, who very heavy losses. But it ble that it was cunningly meant as a temp tation for Britain to ally herself with Japan for joint action—a step which would cer- tainly have profoundly alienated the United States in its equivalence to a reversal of the status fixed at the Washington Confer ence. If that was the idea it failed. Britain stood pat and did nothing whatever. The anti-Japanese boycott was called off. The anti-British boycott continued. The Brit- ish merchants played patience in idle offices Meanwhile, in the interior of China, the war lords continued to intrigue against one another, sometimes to fight and always to pillage. The anti-British boycott began to die down for the simple reason that the a natural partiality and anti-Japanese raged around otner na were suffering is at least possi Chinese traders have for trading. Simultaneously a great out- cry was raised for the revision of the inter- national treaties, by which, among other things, the Chinese Government was pro- hibited from levying customs duties of more than 5 per cent (Continued on Page 193

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Vulcanized Repair When you fix a puncture with the Shaler 5-Minute Vulcanizer the patch is there to stay for the life of the tire. Even under the constant flexing of Balloon tires which loosens ordinary cemented patches, Shaler improved Patches are not affected. For this reason a/one you should be sure that every puncture is Shaler Vulcanized—to prevent the trouble and tire expense that results from under-inflation due to leaky repairs. But there's another reason. The Shaler 5-Minute Vulcanizer takes the work and muss out of puncture repairing. It is so s/mple and safe a child can use it. To make a repair you simply clamp one of the Shaler Patch-&-Heat Units over the puncture, touch a match to the fuel, give it five minutes to cool; then unscrew the clamp and throw the little fuel pan away. That's ~ all. The repaired tube is as good as new and ready for immediate use Be sure vou have a Shaler 5-Minute Vulcanizer in your car today. You'll find them EASY TO USI in stock wherever auto accessories are carried. If you have a Shaler now, be sure vo have a supply of the improved Shaler Patches especially designed for Balloon tires ‘ Be sure you have this handy outfit in your carto- The & Si . day. Fixes punctures in a The SHALER Company World’s Headquarters for Tire Repair Equipment iffy anvwhere—and fixes , ni . a pxe 1006 Fourth Street - Waupun, Wisconsin them right. Complete out- Branch Factories: Beeston, Eng., and Montreal, Can fit—$1.50. Extra Patch- &-Heat Units, 75¢ per REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. 5 MINUTE VULCANIZER higher in Canada and fur West.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Ba Gold Dust [' was merely a shack of a building *# With a few others it stood in the bleak solitude of the Northwest 59 years ago the center of a frontier mining town Yet even inthis outly Ing spot, far away from the comforts of civilization, could be bought the necessary drugs and medt ines to combat sickness. An enterprising pharmacist had shipped a bag of gold dust, worth $2 across the con \\ nent to a pharmaceutical firm in New \ t t y ; 9 ’ ) York, with che message We want to open ] ut her Send us acomplete st nore natural than that the bag - = lust hould have been addressed to Meck & Robbins? For even in 1868 McKesson & Robbins was {more than thirty years. Its products a name estab were familiar to users in the most distant of the globe Adventurous pro well reliable physicians and McKESSON & ROBBINS R IN < THE PUBLI¢ Hi

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tributions— to the prevention and the checking of disease— to the sane, practical care of vour health the McK & R lab oratories have been working in the caus For the past 94 years, never satished until each , peric cted IS tO of good health product has been thoroughly Some of the McKesson & Robbins a1 health are listed at the right. These medic inals and remedies have been prescribed a recommended for vears by leading phy | druggists and dentists sicians, You can have full confidence in them You can do more and better work if vou let them help vou to get rid of th feeling which ts so at ’ ’ let gown general common with busy men and women INCORPORATED H FO;

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Continued from Page 190 The foreign nations had, in principle, no objection whatever to such revision. It was obviously just that China should be al- lowed to raise what revenue she considered was necessary. They had, however, a dis tinct objection to these enhanced duties being appropriated by whatever local war lord happened to control the ports of entry They wanted a strengthened central gov- ernment, not an accentuation of anarchy Accordingly the representatives of the powers met at Pek Unfortunately there was no one with authority over the en tire country with whom they could nego tiate, and the negotiations fizzled out Nevertheless, the principle of increased cus toms duties was eventually conceded a concession which incidentally made Shang- hai a more valuable prize than ever to the war lord in control of it So China went on into 1926 in a confu- sion that cannot here be detailed. The significant points were that Chang-Tso- Lin occupied Peking and the country to the south of it~ while still squabbling with Russia over the Chinese Eastern Rail- way and from Canton, a Russian-directed army commenced to move northward to- ward the Yang-tse River. It was preceded by a swarm of skilled revolutionary agi- tators, preaching to the masses the millen- nium which would follow the triumph of the Kuo Min Tang — originally a secret so ciety organized by Sun Yat-Sen Cheap at the Price It was preceded also by somewhat more furtive agents, who interviewed opposing generals in strict privacy. Everywhere re- fore it. Everywhere on its passage the anti-British boycott and the anti-British agitation were revived in full intensity, while the interests of other nations were left pointedly alone. There is a German word, Schadenfreude, which expresses a certain pleasure in other people’s misfortunes. Human nature and human rivalries being what they are, the sistance collapsed be traders of other nations were not entirely innocent of that feeling. British trade and British influence along the Yang-tse seemed to be theirs for the picking up. It was a short-sightedness that Moscow had cal culated upon. Britain was being not only damaged, but isolated; the turn of the others would come in due course. According to the documents raided from the Soviet Em- yassy in Peking on April 6, 1927, it cost the Moscow government rather more than $10,000,000 in cash during the year. If that was all it cost it was cheap at the price Eventually, at the end of 1926, the Na- tionalist army reached Hankow. Hankow Recruits for the Army THE SATURDAY s the most important of the Yang-tse River ports, some 700 miles upstream from Shanghai. Possession of it mplied a strangle hold on that greatest emporium of the Orient. There, as in other similar Yang-tse ports, was an area of foreign con cessions, built up on an original mud bank by foreign traders excluded from the Chi- nese city The arrival of the Nationalist army, commanded by General Chiang-Kai-Shek, with the assistance of the Russian General Gallent and a number of Russian officers and men detached for Chinese service coincident with a formidable and sl} managed eruption of the mob Though again otner foreign concessions were signin- spared, the British concession was forcibly broken into and its surrender truc ulently demanded Turning the Other Cheek British gunboats were lying in the river, and Jacob Borodin, the soviet representa- tive, might reasonably hope that they would be drawn into action to protect the interests of their nationals But this did not happen. Whatever the reason, the British, with quite unusual meekness, turned the other cheek. Mr O’ Malley, the assistant of the British am- bassador in Peking, was sent to Hankow to confer with the Cantonese Foreign Se retary, Mr. Eugene Chen, an erstwhile British subject from Trinidad, who did not know a word of Chinese when he arrived in China a few years previously. To the highly vocal indignation of the British residents in China, the result of that conference was the complete surrender of the British conces- sion at Hankow. Mr. Eugene Chen—and those whom he represented--was to be trusted on his word of honor Hankow could not very well have been defended, anyway. But very obviously the next place on the Cantonese list was Shang- hai, and Shanghai was altogether a differen proposition Apart from the interests of other foreign nations, it represents an im mense investment of British capital. The British Government had not the slightest intention of permitting a repetition of Hankow on a vastly greater scale. Ac cordingly it at once dispatched an expe- ditionary force to hold the international settlement, with orders to avoid, to the ut- most possible extent, any action which might lead to hostilities with the Cantonese Things began to look even brighter for Moscow. A British military commitment in China was precisely what it was craving for. Simultaneously it instructed its agents in Britain to rouse the British Labor Party to a united and vociferous clamor against Mrs EVENING POST $1000 for the best name for this sensational invention / “4 ‘ e + ~~ P SUPERIOR HAT CO., ST. LOUIS, U. S. A. ) (The only hat with the patented ape-retaming device $1000 Mrs. Ber Smith Muss. H.C. tha Roy Smith Vermont W isce All These Smiths Make Extra Money— And So Can You! Smith Just Mail the Coupon \W The Curtis Publishing Company 901 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania : val | | | | | i i |

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194 THE SATURDAY =e —— ————s 1 E = 5 = SS | ———= 1 + 1| | 1870 1886 1896 | | | 4 a oe 3,079,765. | 2,593 107,133 354,301 9,893,610 | 17,574,252 Milestones in National Service An Advertise American Telephone an THERE are twenty-five Bell companies but only one Bell System—and one Bell aim and ideal, stated by President or Walter S. Gifford as: “A telephone service for this nation, so far as humanly possible _ pl from imperfections, errors or delays, and enabling anyone any- where at any time to pick up a telephone and talk to anyone else anywhere else in this country, clearly, quickly and at a reason- th m ment of d Telegraph Company The number of applica- tions waiting for including those in new and itlying was reduced service, sec tions, fifty per cent. A third transcontinental tele one line was completed to the Pacific coast. The largest number of miles of toll wire for one year was added to e System—more than 664,000 iles. The average length of time for able cost. completing toll calls throughout The year 1926 brought the — the System was lowered by thirty- service of the Bell Telephone _ five seconds. System measurably nearer that A seven per cent improvement goal. Seven hundred and eighty over the previous year was made one thousand telephones were in the quality of voice transmis added to the System Sit the total in and W th bringing interconnected = w he Bell to more than tar nber seventeen an as yn in toll calls made long distance An adjustment rate amounting to a reduction of about 1a half million, $3,000, 1% 00 annually. Quick, safe relief for callouses nd — m bottom of feet. DEScholl's” Zino-pads on Bi one mi— a MEN WANTED os to Become Floor Surfac ing c ontractors i W i ¥ Big demand f or wo _ The American Floor Surf acing achine C ompany 5365S. St.¢ « lair Stree Ohi LUTCH holds. False Teeth | tiéht in the mouth fora x ‘ OO n itisfied If You Are A MAN worthy of the name and not afraid to work, I'll weger you that you can’t work for us 30 days and earn less than $200. Think I'm bluffing ? Then answer this ad and show me up. Openings for managers. The ‘‘Wonder Box" sells on sight. TOM WALKER. DEPT.42 + PITTSBURGH, PA. HART & CO., Box 2219-B, Elmira, N. Y. Out of com Cash? KHere’s an « easant wav always to have.se We or send us the coupon tor an appointment in your locality to a tion which | up to $1.50 an hour or more tor spare time; $25.00 to $50.00 i we k tor tu ti Box 1624 The Saturday Evening Post 899 Independence Square Philadelphia, Pennsylvania p EVENING POST the dispatch of those troops. The entire chorus of reds and pinks in Britain screeched or was sweetly reasonable in unison. The purpose of it was to prepare the way for an antiwar general strike—ever since last May, the entire red organization in Britain has been unrepentantly busy fora next time. I very recently perused a long list of the nucleuses held in being for it—which would hamstring any serious British war effort in the Far East. Furthermore, the Labor Party of every British dominion enthusiastically passed antiwar resolutions which were, to say the least of them, curiously identical in their wording. In every country, the pinks were supplied with ample propaganda material. Translated into factual terms, these ma- neuvers were fairly successful. The British expeditionary force arrived at Shanghai just in time; the native city fell to the ad- vancing Cantonese, alien to the Shanghai population, but the international settle- ment was too tough a proposition for troops which had never yet fought an authentic battle. Nevertheless, Britain was left save for the slight assistance of Italians and Spanish—in virtually sole guardianship of that settlement. The United States, in- deed, sent some marines for the protection of the lives of American citizens. The French landed some Annamite troops for the pro- tection of their own independent settle- ment, while refusing to codperate officially with the British. The attitude of France has been a little difficult to understand. A very well in- formed Chinese writer recently suggested that there was a secret pact between Russia, Japan and France as far as the Orient was concerned. Certainly there has been an absence of revolutionary agitation in Indo- China and French concessions and trade have nowhere been attacked. A New Guessing Game Japan, maintaining an attitude of enig- matic inscrutability, keeping a tight hand on her newspaper press, affected to doubt Russian inspiration and leadership of the Cantonese, and expressed herself as favor- to the Nationalist aspirations. She sent a few marines and mobilized maneuvers’’—her battleship and _ battle- cruiser fleet in the area which had been its base during the Russo-Japanese War. Then the Cantonese captured Nan- king during the Tai-ping Rebellion made the capital of aninsurgent Southern China and with that capture came the incident of Socony Hill. As a result of that incident the Cantonese general Chiang-Kai-Shek at least purported to have a quarrel with his ‘‘civilian’’—that is, Russian Soviet advisers. At any rate, he set himself up as an independent government, with Nanking as a capital that disowns Canton. Similarly, Hankow, where anarchy had in the mean- time exhausted itself into paralysis, also erected itself into a capital independent of Canton. This kaleidoscopic change is not a little bewildering, and as this article is written, able ~ tor is Waimea Canyon, Island of Kauai, June 11,1927 the keenest observers are left guessing at what it implies. It requires some guessing to deduce what is behind the bland mask of the Oriental. Is this apparent split merely a dodge to escape the foreign demand for reparations on account of Nanking? It is all but incredible that Chiang-Kai-Shek should dare to set himself up against Can- ton with no support beyond that of his own army. He would only be the last of a long succession of generals to be undermined by an advance guard of Bolshevik-trained propagandists. A Leader for China? For all his new vehemence against the reds, Chiang-Kai-Shek is as antiforeign as ever. In Peking, Chang-Tso-Lin, en- gaged in an angrier quarrel than ever with the Soviet—but he also is muttering omi- nously that the foreigner must be expelled Is Japan, preparing a leadership of Chinese Nationalism? How is she going to reconcile Chang-Tso-Lin— whose capital at Peking is menaced by the advance of Cantonese armies—with those Nationalists? Or Chang-Tso-Lin going to vanish from the scene, as so many Chinese war lords have vanished in these past few months? Per- haps by the time this article can appear these questions will have been resolved by events—not improbably by typically unex- pected events. The man who prophesies about China today is not a prophet; he is a fool. Nevertheless, certain features stand out sharp and clear, dominating that tenebrous confusion. Great Britain has been isolated and committed, with all it implies of pres- tige, to a fairly large military expedition in the Far East. Japan stands aloof and enig- matical, but somewhat embarrassed by a financial crisis at home. The leaders of the {ussian Soviet Government in February and March talked so emphatically and co1- fidently of imminent war that the Russian peasantry became acutely alarmed and hoarded food-stuffs wholesale, with the re sult that the soft pedal had to be put dow: hard. There is no doubt of what Moscow would like better than anything else in the wor'd It is that some incident should precipitate a situation where Japan should step for- ward as the protector of Chinese Nation- alism and at the same time offer herself as the sufficient guardian of foreign interests In other words, that she should —no doubt, most politely -ask Great Britain to with- draw her troops from Shanghai. If Great Britain complied it would be an end to British prestige in Asia, and in- stantly India would be in a blaze. If she did not comply she would find herself en- gaged in a peculiarly difficult war, with a fierce socialist opposition at home and a certainty of being wiped off the Chinese map in its initial stages. It would assuredly be a long war—and assuredly, once Britain was engaged in the Far East, either Russia or Germany or both would consider it an appropriate moment for a little talk with is IS (Continued on Page 198 Hawaii

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THEI "Oc LtoO’S LARGE

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MANUFACTURER O tf REFRIGERATORS FOR ALI Pl RPOS

For ELECTRIC Refrigeration McCRAY retrigerators may be used with any type of electric or mechanical retrigeration All models are ready tor hate installation of the coolir t Remember quality in the retris crator 1s vital to satistactory service wirl ther ; ' } Wilii CHGICL WO OF fide bie

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ISG ec THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,1927 oe . Grand Canyon National Park ‘Most sublime of all earthly scenes."" So world travelers say of this colossal chasm, more than a mile deep, more than two hundred miles long, and twelve miles wide, filled with magnificent rock temples aflame with changing colors. See it this summer from the lofty North Rim, reached through the enchanting Kaibab National Forest with its thousands of - bv a 5-day, all-expense Union Pacific motor bus tour that also includ America’s Greatest Combination Scenic Tour Zion National Park—Bryce Canyon Cedar Breaks—Kaibab Forest—Prismatic Plains Low Summer Fares to All the West Many Fine Fast Trains Daily Yellowston Pacific Northwest and Alaska —California Colorad Salt Lake City —Ogden. Let our travel experts show you how, at surprisingly low t. vou can visit one or all of these wonderlands of the West 1 or lr mn Pac ne | mur. i i ou which region you wish to visit and booklets and nformation will be mailed promptly. MAIL COUPON TODAY! UNION PACIFIC. General Passenger Agent, Dept. 145 Union Pacific System, Omaha, Neb. p : a ib es ¢ rning a trip to Zior Grat ( N P 7a ‘ wstor Pacific Northwest and \ Calit ¢ }) Sale Lake Cit O N ¢ Nr —— a a oe a oo ae oe oe ee ee ee oe ee ee ee es ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee — THE OVERLAND ROUTE Index of Advertisers June 11, 1927 American Floor Sur - The 194 Cal Pr ( ( American Safety Razor Corp 156 rillard Co.. P 146 American Telephone & Telegraph Co 194 American Woolen Company 175 Mansfield Tire & Rubber ¢ 10 Arnold Shoe Co., M. N 58 Marathon Rubber Com; | 3 Autocall Co., The 55 McCray Refrigerator Sal Cor ' 1y Ayer & Son, N. W 71 McKesson & Robbins I Irporat 1 Merton & Co., Charles S 36 Baer & Wilde Company, The 132 Mexican-American Hat Co s4 Ba k Manufacturing Ce Phe 57 Mulkey Salt Co., The 150 Bauer & Black 77 Murphy Varnish Cor 2 Beaver Products Co., Inc., Th 117 Berkey & Gay Furniture Co.. ..118, 119,120 Nash Motors Co ax Bon Ami Company, The I] Cover National Carbon Compa Inc ot) Bradley Knitting Company 174 National Steel Fabric ( | 19 Brown & Sharpe Mfg. ¢ 69 Brunswick-Balke-Collender Co., The 148 Oakland Motor Car (¢ Suick Motor Company 43° Ocean Bathing Suit ( rl 67 Byers Company, A. M 168 Olds Motor W Oneida Community, Ltd 2 Cadillac Motor Car Ce 37 Californians h 105 Packard Motor Car Co 63 ( | ip Company 33 Palmolive-Peet Co., TI 140 ( a Company of America 186 Parker-Kalon Corpora 164 Carter's Ink Co., The 90 Pathé Exchange, Inc 04 Chamberlin Metal Weather Strip Co 178 Peerless Motor Car Cor 5. Champion Spark Plug Co 47 = Pioneer Rubber Mill 146 Chandler-Cleveland Motors Corp 115 Pittsburgh Plate Gl ( 109 Chevrolet Motor Company 53. Planters Nut & Chocolate ( 160 Cl ler Sales Corporat 130.131 Plate Gl M. al \ pir Clark & Co., In W.G 186 P m Com] y, I 60, 61 Clark, Frank ¢ 169 ~Pro-phy-lac-tic Br ( S¢ ( & Aikman (¢ 19 Pryde-Wy Co $s ( Na l 38 ( i'l ( | 162 R« Murdoch & (¢ ( k ¢ Phe H. ¢ i¢ Kel e Manuf 1 ( } Cooper Corporatio [hie 157 Reo Motor Car Compa 51 Cooper, Wells & Co 149° Rex Spray Company 122, 123 Crawford, McGregor & Canby Co., The.165 > Reynolds Tobacco Compa R. J Crofut & K pp Compa | 50 Roach & Co., W. R 142 ( I ¢ Compa 172 Royal Blue Line 167 Rutland Fire Clay Com, 67 1) R i) Double Rotary Spr ler ¢ 169° Sanymetal Products ¢ I Du l t de N irs & ( l I. I i2 Sapolin Co. | 177 Savage Arms Corporati n Kodak Company IV Cover Scholl Mfg. ¢ he 194 Machine ¢ Phe 182) Seaver-Williams ( 60 ( i, 1 ~ 4 ( | Gilbert ( ( J ) Pava \ ( G ( I H. ¢ s li Water O ( 4 G I & I ( I l ) Pir Roller B ( l G ( Poy br ( ) Gr ir | ( IS Pork ¢ Great Nor iH ( , Pu 11 pW I G Card A I Gr Gripper 5 ( I ( | S ( Hu Motor Car Company SX AY Vacuum Oil ¢ pany 10) Iver Jol Ar & ( le Work 107 W worth Watch Cz ( Phe Walker I I¢ 194 Jantzen Knitting Mill 154 Western ( 1 Johnsor Motor Company 187 Westinghouse Uni Batter Whitman & Son, I 5 Kodel Radio Corporat The 170 Willard Storage Battery ¢ 158 Kotex Company 135 Willys-Overland, I 10 Kroehler Mig. ¢ 133) Wrigh While every precaution is taken to insure accuracy, we cannot guarantee against the possibility of an occasional change or omission in the preparation of this index

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST y , : Diaste’ Walls and Ceilings £ aie fore you “Dont Build an Old House - Use Modern Materials” Boas Beauty and Freshness Are Retained in Plaster Walls and Ceilings— you can always point to them with pride—no cracks, lath marks, stains, or fallen ceilings, when the plastering is applied to NATIONAL REINFORCING. NATIONAL REINFORCING for PLASTER and STUCCO is composed of a galvanized {non-rusting} welded steel wire fabric (the same material, only heavier in weight, is used to reinforce and strengthen concrete roads, bridges, floors, gypsum roofs, etc.) combined with heavy, two-ply, moisture-proof, sound-deadening insula- tion—it is used in place of lath—a reinforcement, insul- ation and sound deadener, all in one product, quickly and easily applied in one operation by lathers. This material has been used by good plasterers in thou- sands of modern homes, where crack-free, insulated walls were desired at reasonable cost. “Given the right materials to work with, the up-to-date plasterer becomes an artist who makes your walls as pleasing and refreshing as a picture.” NaTIONAL STEEL Faspric COMPANY CONST RCC TION at SUBSIDIARY OF PITTSBURGH STEEL CO | UNION TRUST BUILDING | PITTSBURGH, PA. — ' | } CITIES OFFICES -AND WAREHOUSES IN PRINCIPAL

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST with Glover’s Combination ANDRUFF defeats most remedies, but not this. For this is the method of the trichologist, minus his fee. He, expert in hair and scalp science, laughs that a hundred things clear dar Then, insidiously, back it creeps. You have noticed it. And when once dandruff gets a good hold on your scalp, hair begins to let ZO. To bring it back you must kill the infec- tion that breeds the dandruff germs and then restore vitality to choked hair cells and dormant glands. Glover's Combination Scalp Treat- ment (Glover's Imperial Mange Medi- cine and Medicated Soap) gets to the root of this trouble quickly. Hair and scalp re- spond at once to its treatment. > Glover's Combination is not atonic! It acts scientifically to j,) restore scalp health. \t cleans and relieves the clogged hair The Clean T cells. Its medicinal properties Its absence we the essential those who s ™ 3h ‘ar Odor Is Necessary absence of a ingredient at feeble lotions: He knows idruff away for the moment. Worse than ever! stimulate hair glands to normal action And it destroys in the safe, thorough way that authori- ties recommend , , , the dandruff infection Do you want thick, healthy hair and a scalp clean and supple? Then try this combination. Not just uce—for only persistency can completely restore the hair health which dandruff and weakened circulation. have impaired. Thousands of people have testified to amazing new growths of strong, vital hair after using Glover's Combi- nation Scalp Treatment. It is used and endorsed by barbers, hairdressers and hair and scalp specialists everywhere. vuld mark most for eriously want hair health 1 free b oklet 7 escribing common hair and scalp troubles and the use of Glover's Combination in their treatment will be n vequest. Addres ) Fifth Ave matled Dept P, 11 iCOMBI MANGE MEDICINE NE H. Clay Glover Co., Inc., Neu York, N. \ A GLOVERS NATION MEDICATED SOAP SCALP TREATMENT 95c at all Drug and Dep’t Stores aa “] a _ 4 heauti ul Saveli’s salon in the Hotel Ambassador, New York, is 0) ” of worldwide renow: Hairdresser and hair authority hair preeminent, he knows the requisites of beautiful hair as few others do. He says . ° Saveli | bs N the treatment of dandruff and thin, lifeless suggests : hair I recommend Glover's non-alcoholic prep oC aration—the only one sold generally throughout the country | would endorse as bringing safely and surely that health so essential to beautiful, thick hair LS. — -_—-— ~ | Continued from Page 194 Poland apropos of the Corridor to Dantzic and other matters. Either way, it would be a most unpleasantly difficult situation and it is precisely that situation which Britain has been, and still is, stepping softly and delicately to avoid. For that situation might very well be the beginning of another | great war. | In conclusion, for the benefit of those who | yet doubt that the Chinese Nationalist |} movement is as it has been here described to be, it may be worth while to quote a short excerpt from a manifesto issued in April by a group of hitherto pro-Nationalist American missionaries—the entire mani- festo fills two newspaper columns: ‘Foreigners are steadily being forced out of all parts of China under Nationalist con- trol, and the government, despite all its assurances, is either unable or unwilling to alter the situation. . The Christian religion is being persistently and systemat- ically attacked, its leaders maligned and persecuted, its properties desecrated, looted and seized, and no power, no influence, seems able to check this conduct. . We feel that such phrases as ‘imperialism,’ ‘toleration clauses’ and ‘unequal treaties’ have become mere catchwords with which to explain the present situation in China. ‘Foreign nations have taken actual steps in meeting China’s legitimate claims and are eager to go further, but the Nationalist government has not kept its promises nor fulfilled its obligations. “With special reference to the request that we use our good offices to present China’s case in the best possible light June 11,1927 before our home nation, it is necessary to recognize that we who have been termed idealists in our attitude toward China are today discredited before the world as a re- sult of recent events. **As recently as February of this year 127 Nanking missionaries, at considerable labor and expense prepared and sent a cablegram to the American Government and public protesting against the use of force in dealing with China and urging a policy of concilia- tion and the prompt negotiation of new treaties on a basis of equality. “In a little more than a month there- after we depended on the use of foreign force to save our lives. We favored the re- turn of the concessions to China, but today a foreign settlement is our only place of refuge. We assured our people abroad that the Nationalist movement was not anti- Christian nor antiforeign, but now we are driven from our homes and dispossessed of our property. ... “In all these matters the facts of the situation flatly contradict our words. Everything we said on behalf of the Na- tionalist movement is made to appear false. For us to say more in the present situation would be futile.” The statement is signed by W. J. Drum- mond, A. R. Kepler, C. Stanley Smith, Northern Presbyterian; L: L. Hale, North- ern Methodist; John Magee, W. P. Roberts, Episcopalian; Edwin Marks, Disciples A. H. Reinhard, the Evangelistic Fund; D.W. Richardson, Southern Presby terian; Ella Shaw, Methodist Episcopal! President Thurston, of W. R. Williams, Quaker Stewart 12.5 = Ginling College; - 1 || THE SATURDAY EVENING POST | (More Than Two Million Six Hundred Thousand Weekly) i 1} it IS fully protected by copyright and nothing that appears in it may be reprinted, ! either wholly or in part, without special permission. The use of our articles or } : \ i| quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is |] never authorized. —_ 4 Table of Contents June 11, 1927 | Cover Design by Ellen B. T. Pyle SHORT STORIES PAGE A Gentleman of Blades—James Warner Bellah 6 The Texas Twins— Kennett Harris 8 Alimentation’s Artful Aid—- Beatrix Demarest Lloyd 10 } Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock— Horatio Winslow 14 Esthetics— Thomas Beer 16 Out, In and On— Frank Condon 20 Exploration— Maude Parker 22 All for the Best— Clarence Budington Kelland 20 ARTICLES The Hidden Forces in China—F. Britten Austin 3 Psychology Stuff— Albert Payson Terhune ) The Man Merriwell— James M. Cain 12 How Come Pigeons?— Coles Phillips 18 Banks and the People— Albert W. Atwood 24 } Capti vus Columbuses— Gilbert Seldes 3 } The Zeppelins— Ernst A. Lehmann and Howard Mingos 39 | Fr-r-ront!— Helen Christine Bennett 41 | SERIALS i] Crooked (Fourth part)— Maximilian Foster 28 Lost Ecstasy (Ninth part)— Mary Roberts Rinehart 34 MISCELLANY Editorials 30, | Short Turns and Encores 32 | ' = A REQUEST FOR CHANGE OF ADDRESS must reach us at least thirty days | before the date of issue with which it is to take effect. Duplicate copies cannot } be sent to replace those undelivered through failure to send such advance notice With your new address be sure also to send us the old one, inclosing if possible your address label from a recent copy | t a (a

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST STARTING Delco-Remy LIGHTING When motor car man- ufacturers demand the ultimate in starting, lighting and ignition performance, they choose Delco-Remy— as is witnessed by the fact that nine out of every ten cars priced at or above $2500 are Delco-Remy equipped. Hundreds of United Motors Service Stations throughout the country provide official Delco-Remy Service wherever you drive EXECUTIVE OFFICES: ANDERSON, INDIANA FACTORIES: ANDERSON, IND.; DAYTON, OHIO IGNITION

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200 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST June 11,192? — wos \ ’ « } % * G BEN OU R mother had to P i air-tight containers and sterilized > {q .2 put up in summer the i protected from everything that can A433 fruit supply for winter impair its freshness and sweetness and 3 : : , sy : ook Hck days. You go to your » purity. In this condition, it comes to grocet day in the year and get your pantry—absolutely clean. the finest fruit, freshly canned from With better ie tee Tee ae a ee at 7 _ the best orchards in the world. richness. 8715% of Your grandmother probably kept a . ented coms wil in cow. lo-day you can get from your erates. “The ccutiniien d 7 al . “ od grocer, and keep on 215% is composed of your pantry shelf, AE butterfat (cream), fresh, sweet milk that is Het = = milk sugar, proteins purer and richer than oe oe C- eet mineval enlte any milk your grand- AES 60% of the water of , Soe i eo > > ‘“ >\ a & : f a . . . . mother ever knew \feg natural milk is removed in making Tho 44) s . . a hl ° ihe neu and Evaporated Milk. The food (solid ) Detter way. Our is content of Evaporated Milk is, there- grandmothers had fore, more than twice as great as in prejudice against food in cans. We all 7 ae | very dr ‘ded pls ans. é ordinary milk. And every drop of know now, on the word of the Evaporated Milk contains a// the food greatest scientific authorities, that food elements of milk. ‘There is no cream a P . .) sterilized in sealed cans is as safe y, A line. The cream never separates. lt ’ | Wy ) : as food can be. We know the can | stays in the milk. Evaporated Milk does no damage to the food. We 18 never skimmed milk. It 1S always know the sterilization doe hi AV bie whcly 7 snow the sterilization does not harm more-than-double rich in butterfat and it Toa in iI L- oP > > ] “ 4 it. We know that milk sterilized : > is a/so more-than-double rich in the 1 } ° . e 3 / . . sealed cans is just one of the mod- OW er bone and tissue-building substances ern accomplishments through which all elements which make milk science has given us safer, better foods. Nature’s most pertect food. The modern housewife worries no more about her milk For every use. Wherever you need milk, Evaporated Milk supply than she does about her winter fruit. She knows Evap- will better til] the need. In cream soups, for cre aming vegetables, orated Milk. She buys it from her grocer. She keeps it on in breads and cakes, in cocoa, iced or hot wherever you use her pantry shelf. She uses it for everything. milk—Evaporated Milk serves as nothing else will serve. What is it? Evaporated Milk is pure, fresh milk in air-tight Evaporated Milk serves in place of cream for coffee, in ice creams, containers. Nothing is added to preserve it. Not a thing is for desserts——wherever you need cream (single or double). The taken from it but some of the water which is the greater part of adaptability of Evaporated Milk to every milk and cream use will all milk. the food qualities of the milk are kept in it. None be an astonishing revelation that will surprise you and delight you. of them is harmed in any way. The modern cream and milk supply. UU ndiluted Kvap- Fresh, sweet, and absolutely clean. The milk is orated Milk serves as cream at less than half the cost of cream. produced under the supervision of experts on farms in the best It can be diluted to suit any milk need, and costs less than ordinary dairying sections of America. It is received in sanitary plants milk. You can buy it from grocers everywhere. The supply on in the country within a few hours after it comes from the your pantry shelf is always fresh and sweet and absolutely clean. COW white 1t 1S ; H , ~po ’ > t3z-99 is fresh and ) Letus send you our free sweet. It is carefully tested : ane The cream begins | In Evaporated Milk booklets telling VOU 77707 tor purity and cleanliness. to eg ge soon | the cream never } } i / as the muk comes | eparate it iY, 12 yr hace : se jj JO0A Gual- hen part of the water is from the cow. | kept in the milk Cnenr Ene s / —_ ~~ | oe" ae" ; removed—it 1s concentra- > | Y ities and varted uses ted. Finally, it is put in i PROTEIN &~ PROTEIN of Evaporated Mile. r SALTS SALTS + ° P ; FAT FAT - = (SOLIDS) wade ; ORDINARY MILK EVAPORATED MILK EVAPORATED MILk ASSOCIATION —<~=S 231 So LASALLE St. CHICAGO ILLINOIS

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rom a California valley, once barren, come these raisins the whole world wants nee by the gold of the hills,Californians of anearlier time skirted a barren valley, saw no promise in it. Today from that self same valley comes the nation’s raisin supply, the whole world’s finest raisins: Sun-Maid Nectars, seedless raisins with the fragrance, the flavor and plump tender- ness of vine-ripened grapes; Sun-Maid Puffed, seeded raisins that aren't sticky, that retain all the true muscat flavor. One may ride from dawn to dark through solid miles of cultured vineyards, heavy with their burden of raisin grapes—through busy cities where mighty packing houses, laboratories, othces, house the equipment of a great industry. Here seventeen thousand vineyardists vave combined their resources to bring their I bined tl to bring tl products to perfection. Upon themselves they have imposed rigid standards of quality as the price of membership in their coopera tive company. Enlisting the aid of science they have perfected methods of retaining in raisins a grape-like freshness that is wholly unique. The wor!d applauds. Nine out of ten grocers in America and thousands of them in toreign countries sell Sun-Maid raisins And housewives everywhere have learned that the magic is not all in a California val ley, nor in the zeal of the growers. Foods, too, may be transformed and daily they are in countless kitchens, with Sun-Maid Nec tars and Sun-Maid Putfed -M ATID NECTARS [Seedless Raisins ] in the red carton PUFFED [Seeded Raisins ) in the blue carton

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Make your own movies with a Cine-Kodak Its results will delight you. - . Its simplicity will amaze you T was the simplicity of the Kodak that created amateur photography, I | fostered it, maintained it. The Ciné-Kodak is grounded on the “know how’’ gained by the Kodak company in forty years of successfully serving the amateur picture maker. It fits the amateur requirements in motion pictures as fully as did its predecessor in making “‘stills.’’ It puts Kodak simplicity into the movies ‘ The Ciné-Kodak provides every essential to the making of good pic- tures, with nary a bothersome non-essential. In quality it is an instrument of precision; its anastigmat lens fulfills every reasonable requirement with- out the bother of shifting. In operation it is as simple as a Brownie. The film finishing is done in our own laboratories at no extra charge. Anybody can make good motion pictures with a Ciné-Kodak You press the button . . . we do the rest Complete outht, Ciné-Kodak B for picture taking, Kodascope C for projecting, and screen, $140. Write us or ask your dealer for the booklet Ciné-Kodak weighs only 5 pounds; hand a ~~ ; ‘ heid; spring motor driven; loads in day- Motion Pictures the Kodak Way. ight with amateur standard (70 m/m) Cine-Kodak Film in the yellow box Eastman Kodak Company, Rochester, N. Y., 7 Kodak City