Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 January 1919 — Page 2

The Thirteenth Commandment

CLAY’S ORGY OF SPENDING GETS HIM INTO AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION.

Synopsis.— Clay Wlmburn. a young New Yorker on a visit to Cleveland, meets pretty Daphne Kip, whose brother is in the same office with'ljiay In. "Arier a wfrlilwlml courtship they be come engaged. Clay buys an engagement ring on credit and returns to New York. Daphne agrees so an early marriage, and offer extracting from her money-worried father what she regards as a sufficient sum of money for the purpose slie goes to New York with her mother to buy her trousseau. ~ ?

CHAPTER V—Continued. “This is too beautiful to go through so fast.” Daphne cried. “It’s wonderful. We ought to-walk. Promise me we can walk home. It’s such a gorgeous night.” “You're crazy, darling,” he said. “Fve got to get to my office tomorrow, and you’ve got to get home for breakfast” "All right far you,” she pouted. But It was none too serious a tragedy, and her spirits revived when the taxicab turned in through the shrubs about the 4»ld inn that had once been the home of Napoleon's brother and had—heard —the laughter of Theodosia Burr and of Betty Jumel in their primes. Daphne did not like the table the head waiter led them to. It missed both the breeze and the view. “Can't we sit over there?” She said. “I'll see." The bead waiter came reluctantly to his beck. When Clay asked for the table, the answer was curt: “Sorry, sir; it is reserved.” Clay felt Insulted. He whipped out his pocketbook and rebuked the tyrant with n bill. He thought it was a oneklollar bill, but he saw a “V” on It just as the swift and subtle head waiter absorbed it without seeming to. To ask for it back or for change was one tof the most impossible things in the (world. 1 Clay made It as easy for his new slave as he could. table I meant.” he pointing to the lone he had indicated before. “That one." " “Oh. that one!” said the head waiter. “Certainly, sir.” He led the way, beckoning waiters and omnibuses and snapping his fingers. t Clny ordered a supper as chastely perfect as a sonnet. It showed that he had both native ability and education in the art of ordering a meal. He impressed even the head waiter, and that 4s a triumph. That was Clay’s purpose. Also he wanted to preserve Ids aelf-respeet and the waiter s attention in the face of the supper that was being ordered at the next table. That •was well ordered, too, was not a sonnet: it was a rhapsody: It was ordered by a man whose guests had not yet arrived. When Clay, had dispatched his waiter he whispered to Daphne : ’ . ' “See that fellow. That’s Thomas .’Varick Dnane, .one of the wellestIknown bachelors.in New York. He was crazy about Leila.”

“Not Bayard’s Leila !” “Yes. That’s really why Bayard got married so quick. He was afraid Tom Duane would steal her. Nice enough ■fellow, but too much money!” Daphne looked at the big man, and caught him looking at her with a favorable appraisal. She stared him idown- with a cold self-pofesession of the American girl who will neither '.flirt nor flinch. Duane yielded and iturned his eyes to Clay,, recognized him, and nodded. “Hello. Wimburn! H’ah ya?” “Feeling fairly snappy," said Clay. ' Duane showed a willingness to come i ,over and be presented, but Clay kept j him off with a look like a pair of pushilng hands. , Duane loitered about, waiting for his guests. He looked lonely. Daphne ifelt a mixture of charity and snobbery iin her heart. She whispered to Clay: “Invite the poor fellow over here till Jhis guests tome. I’m dying to be able tto tell the people at home that I met Khe great Duane.” Again Clay shook his head. “And that you introduced him to me."

• Clay nodded; He beckoned Duane iover with hardly more than a motion iof the eyebrows. Duane came with a, fflattering eagerness. He put his hand lout to Clay; and Clay, rising, made jthe presentation. “You’re not related to Bayard Kip, pl hope,” Duane said, with an amiable rfrown. , “He's my brother. Why?” < “I a big grudge,” said, Duane. “He stole his wife'•from, me, Jost as I was falling -madly-in love with her. Beautiful girl, your new sister.” -■ • - j “I’ve never seen her,” said Daphne. > “Beautiful girl!" he sighed. “Much ■too good-for your brother,, infinitely jbeyoud me. Why don’t you both, move lover to my table? Miss Kemble is to be there -with her manager- Mighty ■•clever girl—-Miss Kemble. Have "you jseen her new play?"

“We were there tonight,” said Daphne. “She’s glorious!” ••Come ou over and play in ouryard, then.” Daphne had never met a famous actress. She was wild to join the group and to know Tom Duane better. But Clay spoke with an icy finality. “Thanks, old man. We’ve already ordered.” He still stood, and he had not invited Duarte to sit down. Tom . Duane looked at . Daphne and smiled like a boy rebuked. “All right, I’ll go quietly. I know when I’m kicked out. But next time I won’t go so easily. Good night.” —He put bls warm, friendly hand outagHin to Daphne and to Clay, who nodded him away with an appalling informality, considering how great he was. Other people came in, some” of them plainly sightseers, some of them-pert sonages of quality. Everybody seemed happy, clandestine, romantic. This was life as Daphne wanted to live it. But at length she yawned. Her little hand could not conceal the contortion of her features. “I’m gloriously tired, honey,” she confessed,* with a lovable intimacy. “It's the most beautiful supper I ever had, but I’m sleepy," He smiled with indulgent tenderness and Said to the waiter, “Check!” Daphne" turned her eyes away decently as the slip of paper on a plate was set at Clay’s elbow. But she noted that he started violently as hr* -turned" the bill over and met it face to face. He studied it with the grim heroism of one reading a death-war-rant. The amount staggered him. He turned pale. He recovered enough to say to the waiter, “You’ve given me the wrong check.” The waiter shook bis head. “Oh, nossair!” Clay studied it again. He called for the bill of fare, and studied that. Daphne felt so ashamed that she wanted to leap into the river. Abroad, it is believed that the man who does’ not audit his restaurant bill is either an American tourist or some other kind of fool. But in Daphne's set it was considered the act of a tiiiser. Clay worked over his cheek as if it were a trial balance. “Ah. I thought so." he growled. “The bill of fare says that this Montreal

Patriotism and Pride Helped Her for a Quarter of a Mile.

melon is seventy-five cents a portion. You’ve charged me three dollars for two portions.” ’ i A look of pitying contempt twisted the waiter’s smile., “The melon you. ordered, sair, was alkout. I served you a French melon -instead.” T “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I deed not theenk it mettered to the gentlaman." \ . Clay sniffed. He was net to be quieted by such a sop. He whipped out his pocketbook and laid down .every, hill in IL He stretched his legs and ransacked his trousers* pockets and dropped on the plate every coin he had. He withdrew a dime and waved the heap at the waiter. It was evident from the way the waiter snatched tbp plate from the table, that Clay had not tipped him. tn fact Clay said, “This will be a lesson to* you.”’' ' ~ r They-slumped down the steps. The

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

By RUPERT HUGHES

— j—-y- : • —— sfttrt-er -said, “Cab, sir?" and made to =w+Hstle one up. Clay shook his head and walked on toward the monument <>f Grant. Daphne followed. They went as humbly as a couple of paupers evicted for the rent. Daphne was afraid to speak. She saw that Clay was sick with wrath, and she did not know him Well enough io be sure how lie would take her interference in his thoughts. She trudged along in utter shame. The /worst of her shame tyas that she was so ashamed of it. Why should she care whether a waiter smiled or frowned? But she did care, infinitely. Daphne could not pump up any enthusiasm for the scenery. Her lover took no advantage of serial of arbors and the embracing He hover kissed her, not once. Daphne ceased to be sorry for Clay and felt sorry for ter neglected self. Then she grew angry at herself. Then at him. *■ . At length she said, with ominous sweetness, “Are you going to walk all the way, dear?” - “You said you fwanted to, didn’t you?" he mumbled, thickly. “That's so.” She trudged some distance farther — n few blocks it was; it seemed miles. Then she said. •‘How far Is it home—al together''” ' “About three miles and a half.” “Is that all?’ The heroine of an -English novel I’ve been reading used to dash off five or six miles before breakfast.” r---Patriotism and pride helped her for a quarter of a mile more. Then she resigned: “I guess I’m not an English heroine. I don’t believe she ever really did it. I’ll resign ! I’ll have to ask you to call me a cab.” “Pretty hard to find an empty one along here at this hour,” fie said, and urged her on. . “Let’s go over that way to the inhabited part of town,” she said, “and take a street car or the subway.” And then he stopped and said, with guilty brusquerle, “Have you got your pocketbook with you?’’ “No. I left it at home tonight. Why?” “Daphne, I haven’t got a cent 1” “Why, Clay! you poor thing!” “That’s why I was so rough with the waiter. If I’d had the money, do ybu think I’d have made a row before you about a few little dollars? Never! You see, I didn’t expect to go out to Claremont after the theater. The taxi cost more than I expected, and then I gave the head waiter five dollars instead of one. I ordered with care so that it would come out right. Blit that business about the melon finished me. I' just made it. I never’was so ashamed in tef life. And I had to drag you into it/and now I’m murdering your'poor little feet.” ’ “That’s the funniest joke 1 ever heard. .Why didn’t you tell me'befqre?” “It’s no joke.” “Why, of course it is! You fiave only to go to your bank tomorrow and draw some more.” He did not answer this. He said 'nothing at all.~ShF~ha?~a terrified feeling that his silence was full of meaning, that his bank account would not respond to his call. She could not ask him to explain the situation. She was afraid that he itiight. She marched on doggedly, growing more gloomy and decrepit. Iler little slippers with their stilted, heels pinched anti wavered, and every step was.jji pang. e ., “Let’s go over there and get on a street car, and dare them to put us oft'.” she. suggested. “It's a pay-as-yqn-enter car,” he groaned. The world was a different world now. The drive that had been so tremendously lovely as she sped through it in a taxicab was a pathway in Mojave. "She limped through the hideous, hateful, unpardonable length, and felt that it was n symbol of the life ahead of her. had counted on- escaping from the money limits of her home. She was merely transferring herself from one jail to another. . t Her young lover had dazzled her with his heedless courtship,’ flown away with her on motor wings, dipping to earth now and then to sip refreshments at a high cost, and then swooping off with her again. And now his wings had broken; his gasoline was gone; his motor burnt "but; and the rest of the journey was to be the spine old trudge. She had been leaning heavily on Clay’s arm. Now she put it aWay from her in a mixture of pjty for him and' of self-reproof. When Ke protested, she said: “I think Fll walk better alone for a while.” So she hobbled and hobbled by herself, he pleading to be allowed to help her. But she Kept him away. And they crept on a little farther, loving each other piteously. In the course of time, they reached the Soldiers’ and SailbrS’ monument, and Daphne'sank down Vat the base of • cpnT"g<r any fartier.” she said, “not if I die of starvation.” He sank peered at them between the columns and tbs ' r- •' ' , 1

-'elia of the inonu—> '»t. and seemed to tilt its fa& to ene side and sinllb. A motorcar went by with the silence of a loping panther. Another car passing it threw a cnldiOm lii?ht on, Tom Duane and his his cha.if.feur. How gorgeously ttey sped! If Daphne had laid h- bit-of luck- fete jyflnld te wigb them, soaring on tbe piniops of money,' instead of hobbling on without it. Daphne took off her slippers and fondled her poor abused feet as if they were her children. But when she tried to thrust them back-into her slippers for a final desperate effort she almost sh ricked with -the hurt. . ‘‘l’ll have' to go the jest of the way in my stocking feet,” she moaned. “Not if I have to carry you,” Clay growled. Before he had a chance to carry out his resolution a taxicab that had deposited its fares at an apartment house above went bowling by with its flag up. Clay ran out and howled at it till itstopped, circled round, and drew up by the bridle-path. Then he rap to Daphne and-bundled her into it, and gave ter address.-to the driver. “But how are you going to pay him?” she sighed, blissfully, as they shot along. “Not that I care at all.” “I haven’t figured that out,” said Clay. “I’ll drop you at home and then take him to my club and see if I can’t borrow from somebody there. If I can’t, I’ll giVe him my watch or the light of his life.” “That’s terrible !”• Daphne sighed. “To think how much I have cost you !” “Well, I wanted to give you a good time on your little visit,”, said Clay, “and it’s only two days till my next salary day.” Ilerneart sank. Her guess was rigljt. His bank account was dry. It had gurgled out in amusing her. She felt that there was something here that would Take a bit of thinking about —when ste haff rested enough to think. The taxicab swung into Fifty-fiJnHr street and drew up to the curb. Clay telpeff Daphne out and said to the chauffeur, “Wait!” / He said it with just the tone he had used when he said to the waiter, “Check!” When Clay had kissed her his seventeenth farewell and was wondering how he could tear himself away from her without bleeding to death, Daphne pressed the bell. Instead of her drowsy mother opening the door half an inch and fleeing in her curl-papers, Bayard himself appeared in his bathrobe and pajamas. “Bayard I” Daphne gasped as she sprang for him. “What on earth brought you home so soon?” “Money gave out,” he laughed. “Hello, Clay,” he- said as he put forth his hand. “Mother tells me you’vp been secretly engaged to my sister ail tfiis time, you old scounflrel! How are you? What’s the good word?” “Lend me five dollars,” said Clay.

CHAPTER VI. - » The meeting of Daphne andher new sister-in-law was not what either would have expected or selected. Daphne was tired in body and soul, discouraged, footsore and dismayed about her love and her lover. She had reached the door of ‘the apartment in the mood of a wave-buffeted, outswum castaway, eager for nothing but to lie down in the, sand and sleep. Daphhe could 'imagine the feelings of her brother’s wife when she reached her home after a long ocean voyage, a night landing, the customhouse ordeal, and the cab ride among the luggage, and fouhd a m'otht'Piif-’ law asleep in her bed and a sister-in-law yet to arrive I Bayard and Leila, serene in the belief that Daphne and her mother had gone back to Cleveland, entered the apartment without formality and went about switching on lights, recovering their little homd from the night with magic instantaneity. Mother Kip’s awakening came from the ligpt that Bayard flashed in his bedroom. Leila had a lovable disposition, but she was tired, and all the way up in the overloaded cab she had thought longingly of the beautiful bed in her own new home, and had promised her Self a quick plunge into it for a long stay. How could she rejoice to find a strange woman there —even t hough she Iwre the sacred pame of mother-in-law? 'Mother Kip ordered, Bayard and Leila-out of their own room and when she was ready to be seen she had so many apologies to make- and accept that the meeting entirely lacked the rapture it should have expressed. Even a mother could hardly be glad to see her son in such discouraging circumstances. All three exchanged questions more and more perfunctorily, and kept repeating themselves. The most popular question was, “I wonder where Daphne is?” They could not know that she was hobbling down the wilderness of Riverside drive. She, too, was thinking longingly of her bed. But long before she reached it her mother had moved in and established herself across a good deal more than half of it. It was a smallish bed in a smallish bedroom. Leila fell asleep in her tub and might have drowned without noticing' the difference if her yawning husband had not savedher life—and very deyerly: he was too tired to lift her from the. water, so he lifted the'Stopper and let the water escape from her*- She almost resented the rescue, but > eventually got herself to bed in a prettily sullen stupor. ,•. , r . ~ From some infinite depth of peace she was dragged up protesting. Bayard was IOTTIng hgr or' Doggedly sh« began to prepare an

elaborate toilet, but Bayr.tr? het out before she /was ready: This was the-fiflal test ofi Leila’s patience and of Daphne’s. * It was. a tribute to both that they hated the collision more than each other. Their greetings were appropriately emotional and noisy, and they both talked at once in a manner that showed a certain congeniality. When at length Daphne went to her room she observed her mother’s extraterritorial holdings. She stretched herself along the narrow coastline in despair of rest. But she was.too tired to worry or lie awake and she slept ..horoughly. - The next morning the three women, about to meet one another by daylight, rffade their preparations with the scrupulous anxiety of candidates for presentation at court'. In breakfast was late and the only man there, except the evanescent waiter from the restaurant below, was Bayard. A. troop of business worries like a swarm of ghats had wakened him early. He had escaped some of them in. Europe, for the honeymoon had been a prolonged and beatific interlude in his office hours; but marriage was not his career. His career was his work, and that was recalling him, rebuking him, as with far-off bugle alarmsHe was so restless that he merely glanced at the headlines of the paper. He was preoccupied when he kissed

It Was a Tribute to Both That They Hated the Collision More Than Each Other.

his mother and Daphne good morning, and he paced up and down the dining room like a caged leopard till Leila arrived. Her trousseau had included boudoir gowns of the most ravishing description and she wore her best one to breakfast. Daphne and Mrs. Kip made all the desirable exclamations at the cost and the cut of it. Even paid her a tribute. f, “Isn’t she a dream, mother? Aren’t you proud of her, Daph?” They agreed' that she was and they were, and Bayard drew his chair up to the table with pride. It was the bride’s last breakfast and the housewife's first. That is, Leila, was not really a housewife; only an apartment wife, with nearly everything done for her except the spending of her time. She had to spend her ofl n time.; .u, • ' j ' This breakfast was the funeral it the honeymoon, and Leila hung with graceful dejection over the coffee cup. It might have been a' cup of hemlock. Judging from the posture of her woe. But the he-brute, attracted by a por-, tion of a headline, had his newspaper and was gulping it down with his coffee. , He was sto absorbed in the me** clash of two Mexican generals and danger of American intervention th.= r he forgot the all-important demand# of love, and Ignored the appalling fact that he had only a few minutes left before he must take his departure. It was a pitiful awakening to the new Mrs. Kip. She was being taught that she wiys not important' enough to keep her husband’s mipd or his body close at home. He had said that she was all the world to him, and, behold I she was only a part of it. He had said that* he could think of nothing else and desired nothing else but her. Nqw he had her and he was thinking of everything else. He had to have a newspaper to tell him all about everything in the world. The sight of Leila’s anguish over the breakfast obsequies of the honeymoon chilled Daphne’s hope of marriage bliss like a frost ravening among peach blossoms. »

Every feminine reader of this paper can appreciate the situation in which Daphne found herself when, she set out to buy all the pretty things that she felt she should- have before becoming Clay's bride. Her limited purse did not fit In at all f with the prices that confronted her at every turn. What did she do?

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

As He Understood Orders.

“Now,” said the medical officer to the raw recruit, “having taken your. try the scales.” And the unsophisticated ope, tfemediately commgjjceC “Do, re, ini, fa," etc£

WAS TOO PREVIOUS

Sarcasm That Berlin Newspaper Probably Regrets. Prophecy That American Soldier* Wruld Soon Cross the Rhine and Enter ~ German Fortresses Has Been Very Literally Fulfilled. The most biting Irony that came out of Germany during the war was cohin the Berlin Lokal Anzelger, a. little more than a year ago. Several of our soldiers had been captured by the Germans. They were dragged all over the empire and exhibited to the enraged populace, just to show the Germans that the Americans were “not to be feared.” The day the unfortunate prisoners arrived in Berlin the paper printed the following under the heading, “Good Morning, Boys “Three cheers for the Americans! Clever chaps they are, it cannot be denied. Scarcely have they touched the soil of this putrefied Europe when already they are forcing their way into Germany. Before long they will cross the Rhine and also enter our fortresses. That is express train speed for American smartness. “It is our good fortune that we are equipped to entertain numerous guests and that we shall be able to provide quarters for these gentlemen. However, we cannot promise them doughnuts or jam, and to this extent they will be obliged to recede from their former standard of living. ............. “As Americans are accustomed to travel in luxury and comfort, we assume that these advance arrivals merely represent couriers for larger numbers to follow. “We are sure the latter will come and be gathered in by us. At home they believe they possess the biggest and most colossal everything, but such ' establishments as w r e have here they have not seen. “Look here, my boys, here is the big firm of Hindenburg & Co., with which yob want to compete. Look at its accomplishments and consider whether it would not be better to haul down' your sign and engage in line. “Perhaps your boss, Wilson, will reconsider his newest line of business before we grab off more of his young, people.” “Clever chaps they are; it cannot be denied.” Yes., they were “clever chaps.” So clever that today, a short year after the sarcasm was printed in the Berlin newspaper, they are actually crossing the Rhine and entering fortresses which seemed so secure ■when the flippant editor gibed the little handful of soldiers who had been overcome.

Yank Artillery Made Record.

The French take more pride in their artillery than in almost any other feature of their military service, writes C. W. Barron in the Wall Street Journal. In this war they made world records in effective gunnery. The American boys Watched the french move 13%-inch guns into position in 45 minutes with horses and motors. Then the Frenchmen saw the American boys do if in 12% minutes, and they did not use either horses or motors. Fifty American officers and men put the gun into place and they were the talk of the toiwn at that French camp. Afterward the French called upon their officers for themselves and all their man power to do this work when the tractor was not about. When the Germans met -the American gunners they thought a new kind of rapid-fire three-inch gun had come into the war because it shot so much more rapidly. ~

How He Got,Needed Umbrella.

W. M. Hughes, the premier of Australia, once caine by' an umbrella through illicit means. He is fond of telling the tale against himself. While he was walking home one pitch-black a sudden storm broke and,, seeking shelter from the rain, he hastened to the nearest doorway. After waiting there for a few minutes, he spied a small boy coming along with an enormous umbrella. The premier, thinking the owner might offer to share, called out sharply: “Hi, there, young man! Where are you going with that ujnbrella?” The lad, startled at the sound which apparently einanated from nowhere, dropped* the umbrella and fled up the street as hard as his legs would carry him. He vanished utterly, and Mr. Hughes’ predicament was solved.

Some Fliers Are Anchored.

“I picked you out to write to because I can see by your eyes you’re the lonesome kid,” gushed a letter addressed to the handsome young aviator whose likeness had just appeared in the Great Lakes Recruit.•. • The handsome young aviator is a Kansas City. man. “Now, Mary,” he wrote to his wife, “in case you don’t feel toward me as you used to, this is the time to speak up, us you will observe by the inclosed.” And he sent her the letter. '

Lived Long After Burial Alive

John Bpyle, who died at Jersey City, N J., recently, was one of thefour ten Wscued nlire tn ! 1891 front the Jeansville mines of J. ,C. Hayden. 4 Co., when 21 miners were entombed for 19 days by a rush of water. The four . survivors ate a mine mule drowned with their 17. comrades. Boyle was widely known as a fiddler in the Lehigh field, but lost his tfurte of darkness and moved to New Jersey.