Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 February 1919 — Page 2

The THIRTEENTH COMMANDMENT

by RUPERT HUGHES

CHAPTER XVIII. —l2 Daphne scattered for the subway as a fugitive rabbit to its burrow. But she was not a rabbit and she felt suffocated in the tunnel. She could not endure to be quiet in the presence of so many goggle eyes like aligned buttons. She left the train at the next station and walked rapidly to Fifth avenue, and up it homewfird. She walked rapidly for the comfort of the restlessness, but there was no comfortable destination ahead of her. She found Mrs. Chevvis at home with her disconsolate husband. Daphne dared not tell them just yet that she had lost her place. She would tell them when she got another one. For fear that they might ask why she was home so early, she went down to Bayard’s apartment. She wanted to tell Bayard and Leila what had happened. It was safe, she felt sure. Bayard would never attack Gerst. He would be more likely to rail at Daphne for bringing the trouble on herself. - Leila let her in at the door, bus she was in a militant humor. She said, •Hello’’’ grimly and stepped back for Daphne to enter. Daphne found Bayard still aglow with Interrupted quarrel. He said, ‘‘Hello!’’ with a dismal connotation. “What do you suppose that brother of yours orders me to do now?” said Leila, whirling Daphne toward her. “I can’t imagine.” said Daphne, incredulous of Bayard’s ordering Leila to do anything. “He wants me to go to Dutilh and put up a poor mouth and humiliate myself.” — Bayard snatched Daphne to him and stormed: “She bought the clothes, didn’t she, without consulting me? She wouldn’t send ’em back as you did yours; she wore ’em out, paraded ’em before other men there in Newport while I was slaving here. And now that Dutilh insists on money that I haven’t got. and can't get, she won’t even go explain it to him. That’s all I ask her —1° explain it to him and ask him to be patient so that I won't be sued. I can’t stand that. I’ve had every other calamity but I’ve never been sued for debt. I ask Leila to go tell him about my hard luck and my fine prospects —play fair , with him — and with me. But will she do it? No! She won’t do anything for me.” Daphne was swayed by his emotion. She pleaded : “Why don't you, Leila ? You have such winning ways. I'll go with you.”

Leila hesitated, then answered by taking up her hat and slapping it on her head. She paused, took it off again, and went to her room, unhooking her gown as she went; she knew that in asking favors one should wear one’s best appearances. Bayard grumbled, “How are you -getting along at yourofllee?” Daphne felt unable to intrude her own troubles on his. She shrugged her shoulders. It is a kind of White lie, the shrug. , “Hang on to your job as long as you can, old girl, for you’ll have to support us all, I guess. You’re the only one of us that can get a job or earn a cent. That's the advantage iof being.a pretty girl.” Daphne was almost moved to tell him some of the disadvantages of be- ' Ing a pretty girl, but she felt that the time was unfit for exploiting her own woes. She ached for some one to disclose them to, but she withheld them. Leila came in. arrayed in her very finest. She,, was smiling in the contentment of beauty at its best. “When you ask credit you've got to look as if you didn't heed it,” she said. They found Dutilh in a state of unusual excitement and exhaustion. There were few customers in his place and he lef t' them to the other salespeople. He advanced on Leila and Daphne and gave a hand to each. “Why, oh why in the name of Paul Poiret didn’t you come in a week ago? The pirates have taken decent gown I had. — The sewing women are ~ working like 'mad to reproduce ’em, but there’s nothing left fit to show, except to Pittsburgh and Plattsburg tourists. Where did you 1 get that awful rag you have on?” “Here,” said -Leila. beautiful. Sit down. I’m dead. , Have a cigarette? Have a cup of tea? Oh, Miss Galvey—tea for three, please. I didn’t forget either of you when I was in Paris. I have a siren gown for you, Mrs. Kip, that will break your heajt with joy." You'd murder to get it. And 7 as for, you, Miss Kip—well, you’ll ply be Indecently demure in the one I cah ‘lnnocence.’ ” Daphne was a trifle but Deila’s eyes filled with tears at the • mockery of such talk., l She moaned; “I didn’t come to’ buy. I came to apologize and beg for mercy. I owe you a lot of money, and I haven’t a cent.” ■'< ■' •*'

“Who has? What of it? Nobody’s paying anybody.” “But I had an urgent letter from your bookkeeper, or somebody. “Don't mind her. She gets excited. Nobody pays me. You come tn mud get another gown and you 11 catch a millionaire with it.” ) It was hard for Dutilh to keep his clients clear in his memory. “Buts I can’t afford it.” “.Wl I can't afford to have my children going round in last year s rags. You do as you're told and come around next 'week' —I’H get my m <>n ey outruT you some day. Trust me for that. Leila felt a rapturous desire to kiss him and call him names of gratitude. He wasxgenerous by impulse and patient. and nobody’s fool at that. The thoughts of tailors are long, long thoughts. Daphne sat thinking, but not of clothes. The labor problem had almost defeminized her. She was studying the models as they lounged about th£ shop. Suddenly she spoke. “Oh, Mr. Dutilh. how much money does a model earn?” “You mean what salary do I pay? Common clothes-horses get fifteen or sixteen dollars. Better lookers get better pay. You’re worth a thousand a week at least. Want a job?” “Yes.”

His smile was quenched. He studied her across his cup. He saw the anxiety in her curiosity. “What's the matter?” he said, “Has he run off with another girl, or do you expect to go fishing for a millionaire in my pond?” “I need the money. I’ve had hard luck.” Daphne said it so solemnly that he grew solemn, too. “That’s too bad! Well, I’ve got more girls now’ than I need. Nobody ■as- beautiful -as you, of course; but —I suppose I could let some one go.” “Oh, I couldn't think of that!” “Neither Could I. Weft, I’ll squeeze you in sonrewhere. But I can’t pay you as much as you are worth. Would —umm—twenty dollars a week interest you?” “It would fascinate me.” “All right, you’re engaged. You can begin next Monday.” He turned to Leila. “Do you want a job, too?” “No, thank you!” Leila snapped. Her eyes were blacker than ever with rage, and * her red-white cheeks curdled with shame. She could not trust herself to speak. Her brunette beauty had the threat of a stormloaded thundercloud. When she and Daphne had taken their departure, Leila still dared not speak to Daphne on the way home. She dared not speak to her at all. Leila brought triumph to Bayard. She told him what Dutilh had told her of his willingness to wait for his money. Bayard embraced Leila and hailed : her as an angej., .\Yhen she-had- .taken, full toll Of her success, ihe told Bay-

Leila Felt a Rapturous Desire to Kiss Him and Call Him Names of Gratitude.

ard what Daphne had done. She told it simply, without emphasis, knowing its effect. eDaphne!” he roared. “You asked Dutilh for a position among his models? Great Lord of heaven, I’ll telegraph father to come take you home.” “That's all right,” Daphne taunted. “You’ll send the message collect, and he’ll never be able to pay for it, so he’ll never hnow what he missed.” . “But surely we are not such beggars that—” “Who has any money? Who has anything left to pawn?” "But there must be other jobs.'” “Get me one." “There must be some other way." j

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER. IND.

“Show me." C’lny Whnburn came in nftqt dinner. His protests’against Daphne’s project were louder than Bayard’s, with• the added rancor of jealousy. But he had no substitute to offer. She forebore to tell him of the Gers* affair. He was deep enough in the miro. He went away a little latei*and she returned to her cubbyhole with vvises; ’ t -7 Those were -black tlays for all America, suffering ypder the backfire from the sudden war .and from the long fatigue of hard times. There were weeks of dread lest the United States be sucked into the maelstrom at a time when it was least prepared in money, arms, or spirit. Nover, perhaps, in human chronicle had so many people looked with such bewildered misery on so many people locked in such multifarious carnage. At such a time,, as in an epoch of plague, there came a desperate need of a respite from woe; soldiers skylarked in trenches; war widows danced in gay colors; festivals were held in the name of charity; frivolities and vices were resorted to that good souls might renew themselves for the awful work before them. It was in such a mood of Imperative demand for cheer of some sort that Tom Duane swam back into Daphne’s gloomy sky.

Daphne had come home after a morning of rebuffs. She was heartsore and footsore, in shabby boots that she could not replace. She was called to the telephone, and Duane’s voice chanted in her ear with a tone of peculiarly comforting melancholy. “That you, Miss Kip? This is me, Mr. Duane. Poor Tom Duane. Poor Tom’s a-cold. I came back to town unexpectedly- early. I have something important to say to you. Will you take a little ride with me in my car?” “Why not?” she said, with a laugh. She was glad that he could not see the tears that gushed across her eyelids. “Three cheers for you! I’ll be there in a jiffy. You couldn’t arrange to dine with me, could you? Or could you?” Again she answered, “Why not?” Duane’s voice rang back: “Tip-top! You’ve made me happy as a box of pups. I’m half-way there already.”

CHAPTER XIX. When Duane came up to the door he greeted her with the beaming joyousness of a rising sun. He praised her and thanked her for lending him her time. The elevator that took their bodies down took her spirits up. She noted that he had not brought his big car with his chauffeur. He stowed her into a powerful roadster built for two. But she had no inclination to protest. The car caught them away and they sped through Central park with lyrical, with dithyrambic, sweep. “The trees! —how wonderful they are!” she cried; They had been wonderful for weeks, but she had thought them dismal. “They’re nothing to what they are InWestchester,” said Duane. “We’re going to have a look at them and dine up there somewhere.” “Are we?” was all she said. And he said, “We are.” After they left the park and reentered the hard streets she found the courage to remind him: “But you said you had something important to tell me. What was it ?” “Miss Kip,-you've flayed the very devil with me. I thought I was Imri'une to the lover germ, but—well, 1 told you the truth about going abroad to shake off the—the—fever—the Daphnitis that attacked me. But I ■ couldn’t get you out of my mind for lon£:._ar__out-o£ mv heart at all. I’m a sick man. Miss Kip, a lovesick man.” “Mr. Duane, you mustn’t —I can’t allow you—really!” “Oh, yes, you can!” he said, and sent the car ahead with a plunge. “You’re going to listen to me for once. You can’t help yourself. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to h?lp me a little. I went up in the BerkShires and tried to get my sanity back, but I couldn’t! I couldn’t even play golf—-or cards—or drink. People drive me crazy. I can’t get interested in anything.or anybody but you.” "“Mr. Duane, please—- You., oughtn’t to — I beg you. I have no right—” “Oh, I know you’re engaged to Clay Wimburn, He’s a nice kid. I’m not one-two-three with him. I’m not trying to cut him out —I couldn't if 1

would, I like him. I’d like to help him, and your brother, I don’t mean to be impertinent, either; but — well, the main thing is, I want to beg you to let me see you once in a while. “I want to take you out riding and dining and dancing and —you can take Wimburn along if you’ve got to. but I want you to save my life somehow. And, by the Lord Harry ! I think it will save yours. You don’t look well, my dear —Miss Kip. It breaks my* heart to see it. No, I don’t believe you’re getting as much fun out of life as you •ought to. There isn’t much fun in.the world any more, but what little’s left is very precious, and I want you to get all that’s going. Won’t you let me help you go after it? Won’t you?” They swung up to a height that commanded h vast reach of the Hudson. Between its banks it semed’to be a river of wine. The western sky was like a forest of autumn leaves with the last sad red pitifully beautiful, since it must turn so soon to rust. In a spirit Of haste the fleetly spinning wheels murmured, “Why not, why not, why not, why-notwhynotwhynot?” ; Before the sunset had quite relinquished the sky the moon ’•as. over the horizon—the harvest mjoon, huge and close and of a meditative mein. It paled and dwindled as it climbed, but its power seemed-to grow. It left Daphne more alone with

Duane, a little afraid of him afld of the gloaming. They emerged above the chain of Croton lakes and ran across the big dam land wound along the shore, crossing iron~ iron bridge', till they came to a /ittle roadside inh whose lights bad a yelloW warmth. “We’re stopping here for dinner. If you don’t mind,” said Duane. -1 urp hne wa s a tri He ill at ease, - but she was hungry, toy, and the adventure was exhilarating. There were not many people at the table!?, and they were of an adventurous’cast as well. When Duane had given his order he asked Daphne if she would Join the rest of the diners who ijad left their chairs to fojptrot. She shook her head and he did not urge her. But by the time their dinner was served and eaten the nagging, interminable music had played away nearly all her scruples. ' . When Duahe looked nt he.r with an appealing smile, she smiled back, nodded and rose. He leaped to his feet and took her in his arms. Somehow, it was not mere dancing now. He had told her that he loved her. There was in his embrace an eagerness that was full of deference, but full of delight as well. After all, she was alone with him in a company that seemed not to be very respectable, and was growing less so every hour. Her feet and all her limbs and every muscle of her reveled ih the gambol,

He Could Imagine Her Pretty Head.

but her heart and mind and conscience were troubling her till she stopped short at last and said: “I’m sorry, but I —l’d rather not dance any more—here.” Duane paused in a moment’s chagrin. Then he sighed: “All right.” They retreated to their table, and he looked at her sadly, and she sadly at him. Then he seemed to like her even better than before, and he said, with a very tender smile: “Want to go home?” “If you don’t mind.” When they came out upon the veranda of the hotel the lake was a vast charger of frosted silver among the hills. They stood admiring it for a moment and the music from the hotel seemed to come from another world. He helped her into the car and they whisked away southerly. He returned to the road along the Hudson, and it was so beautiful in the moonglow that it seemed a pity to hurry through the wonderland at such speed. And what was she going back to that she should be in such haste? She hinted as much to Duane, and he bettered the suggestion. Not only did he check the» speed, but at one wooded cliffside with a vista of peculiar majesty he wheeled out of the road and stopped the car, shut down the chattering engine and turned off the strenuous lights. w

They sat utterly content till Duane shook off the tlissfuL stupor. They could not stay here thus forever. They could not stay much longer. It was growing cold and late. He did not dare to look at Daphne. He did not quite need to. He could imagine her pretty head and the drowsy, adorable eyes, the lips pursed with childish solemnity, the throat stem in the urn contour of her shoulders, the vaselike curves of her young torso. He imagined these from memory. for they now were swaddled in a thick But-ywithout turning his head h.e could see Tier little Lands clasped idly at the little gloves turned back at the wrist. He thought that he would like to take them in his-—he would like to take all of her in his arms r into his heart- into his keeping. Yet he did not want to marry her. He did not admire marriage in its results as he saw them in other people. Like many another, he cherished wicked ideals because the everyday virtues worked out so imperfectly, so unbeautifully. Daphne was musing almost as vaguely. On the river a yacht at anchor poised like a swan asleep. She would like to own a yacht. „ On the opposite side of the river along, the roqd she could see motorcars like Inquisitive Crickets with gleaming eyes and feelers of light, * She would like to own a motor or two. If she were the wife of .as rich a man as this man at her side, how quickly she could help her father and Bayard "and .the- wretched victims of the massacre, ip Europe and so many people—yes, and even Clay, poor# dear, hopeless, helpless Clay Wimburn, to whom she had brought noth-

ing but expense of money and heart* ache and torture. ' • Suddenly but quietly upon this curreiitof her thoughts a thought of Duane's was launched like a skiff congenial to the tide. He spoke almost as softly as a thought, at first with a quaint shock such as a boat makes, launched. “How often do you go to church?” he said, whimsically. “Why—never, I’m afraid,” she gasped in surprise. j “You were planning to be married in church?” “Such funny questions! Yes, of course.” y . “Why?” “Oh, it wouldn’t be nice not to.” “You don’t believe in divorce, then?” “Oh yes—yes, indeed: —if people don’t get along together. I think it’s wicked for people to live together if they don’t love each other.” “It’s love, then, that “makes marriage sacred?” “Yes. Yes, indeed! Of course!” “Is it all right for two people who are hot Christians to live together according to their creeds?” “How do you mean?” “Well, the people who lived before there were any Christians —or people who never heard of Christianity—was It all right for them to marry?” *‘Of course.” ,“It’s not any one formula, then, that makes marriage all right?” “Of course not, It’s the —the —•” “The love?” “I think so. It’s hard to explain.” “Everything is, isn’t it?" “Terribly.” There was more silence. He took a cigar from his pocket, held it before her for permission. She said, “Please." He struck a match. She glanced at his face in the little limelight of the match. It was very hnndsome. A pearl of drowsy luster gleamed in the soft folds of his tie., The hands Sheltering the match were splendid hands. She watched the cigar fire glow and fade and the little turbulent smoke Veils floaty into the air and die. One of them formed a wreath, a strange, frail, writhing circlet of blue filaments. It drifted past her and she put her finger into it —her ring-finger by some womanly instinct. “Now you’re married to me,” said Duane. —-=== There was a sudden movement of his hands as if to seize upon her. She recoiled a little; his hands did not pursue her. They went back to the steefing wheel and clung to it fiercely. She turned from his eyes, but he gazed at her cheek, and she could feel the blood stirring there in a blush. “If you loved me, would you marry me?” he said.

“I —I love — I’m going to marry—somebody else.” When?” “Some day.” "If-you’re not happy with him, will you leave him?” “Oh, but I’ll be happy with him.” “So many people have said that! You’ve seen how seldom it worked. If you ceased to love him, or he you, would you leave himT” “ ‘lf’ is a large order. Maybe.” “Wouldn’t it be wiser if two people who thought they loved could live together for a- while before they married?” She felt her muscles set as if she would rise and run away from such words. “Mr. Duane! I don’t think it’s nice even to be talking of such things. Besides, it’s growing late.” “It’s not so late as it would be if you married a man and found that your marriage was a ghastly mistake.” “Hadn’t we better start back?” “Please don’t leave me just yet. This is very solemn to me. I’ve been studying you a long time, trying to get you out of my mind, and only getting you deeper in my heart. I love you.”

“I don't believe it.” “I know it.” “Then you oughtn’t to tell me.” “Not tell a woman you love her? Not try to save her from wrecking her life and my own?” “How wrecking my—her life?” “I believe that if you marry Clay Wimburn you'll be unhappy. He can’t give you a nome. He can’t buy you clothes. He can’t support you.” “That’s not his fault, just now — with the hard times and the war. Please let’s go home.” “To my home?” That insolence was. too appalling to answer, or even to gasp at, or protest against. It stunned her. He took advantage of her daze to explain, hurriedly: „ “You’re not going to be one of those silly, old-fashioned idiot girls that a man can’t, talk to earnestly and frankly, are you now? Of course you’re npt. You’re not one of those poor things whose virtue consists in being insulted every time anyone appeals to their intelligence, are you? No, you’re a fine, brave soul, and you want to know the truth about truth, and so do L ‘Tm a decent enough fellow at heart. I want to do the right thing and live squarely as well as the next fellow. I’ve got a sense of honor, too, of a sort, and I take life pretty seriously. ■ - “I tell you, the world is ail turned topsy-turvy the last few years. The old rules don’t rule. They never did. but people pretended to believe in ’em. Now we’re not so afraid of the truth in science or history or religion or anything. We want to know the truth and live by it. (TO'BE, CONTINUED.)

The Way Out.

If a man or a machine is unable to accomplish a task it should "be turned over to a woman and a hairpin.—London Answers.

TACTICS

By HELEN E. IVERS.

Eva flung herself on the couch *Uith A deep sigh. Hazel, her older sister, smiled “Yes, sister,” she said, “tell me all about 4t.” J Eva’lived in the small towr/of W—. They were well known, each in a different way. Hazel was very pretty and rather a belle in the social world, while Eva, though as pretty as her sister, whs not as popular with the saute people. All of her teachers and more studious friends admired her very-much,-but that was not her greatest desire. • “Aren’t you going to tell me, Eva?’’ Hazel asked, seeing that her sister was still silent. ' “There’s nothing much to tell,” Eva finally answered. “I’m discouraged, that’s all. What I want to know is, how do you get all the boys that you like to notice you? I never can. There’s Jack B—, for instance. I like him, but I’m not especially fond of him, and I show that I don’t care whether he comes near me or not, but still I can’t go anywhere that he does not follow me. Others, that I would like to have show an interest In me hardly notice me, and I am just as nice as pie to them. I should like to know the reason. Hazel was amused. “You are funny, Sis. You don’t know human nature at all. I’ll tell you the reason why.” The-next night was the senior dance at the college, and Hazel and Eva were planning to go. All day they whispered together. When night came both girls dressed and then waited for their escorts. ’ They did not wait long. Very soon the bell rang and Jack B — was heard approaching. "Oh, dear,” Eva sighed. “I wish that he would disappoint me just once in his life. It gets rather boring to be so sure of just what a person will say or do.” Just here Jack came in, rather more sadly than was his wont. “I’m so sorry, Eva,” he said, “but I’ll have to disappoint you tonight. I have had a telegram calling me to N —, where my father was in a railroad accident.

“Oh, Jack,” Eva was all sympathy. “I hope that it isn’t serious.” Jack shook his head. “The telegram doesn’t give me much encouragement. However, I must go right away. Probably Hazel Will let you go with her.” “Oh, yes,” Hazel hastened to say. “Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll see that she gets there all right.” Jack went toward the door, but before he reached there he turned back. “Will you please come to the door with me, Eva?” he asked. “I have something to say to you.” Wonderingly she followed him, an<T was hardly outside when he seized her hands rather roughly. “Oh, Eva, dear,” he murmured huskily, “how I love you. Won’t you marry me, please?” She pulled her hands awmy. quickly. “No, Jack,” she said firmly. "1 cannot. Ido not love you.” She turned and re-entered the room, _ leaving a dumbfounded Jack behind her. , “An hour later she was at the dance, feeling miserable. The tactics advised by her sister had been Used. She was very cool with all of the boys she had been aspiring to have like her, and one and allhaddecidedthat that rather “dull little sister of Hazel,” was a charming little thing when one got to know her. Eva was certainly outdoing herself tonight. Nobody would ever, have guessed that she felt sad; for despite her merriment, she did feel lonesome. Her wish that Jack’would disappoint her once had been fulfilled sooner than she had expected it would and although she knew that-his excuse had been- good, she felt unaccountably slighted. She was undoubtedly relieved when it was time to go home. About 15 minutes lifter she reached home, the telephone rang. “It’s for you, Eva,” Hazel called, who had run to answer it. “You’re getting popular, Sis. I certainly was proud of yofi, tonight.” Wondering who it was, she went to the phone and to her delight Jack s welcome voice-came over the wire. “I thought you’d like to know,"’ he said, “that it was all a mistake abopt father. , He was on the train, but unhurt.” “Oh, I’m so glad,” Eva cried. “You must be, too.” “Well,” and his voice was certainly joyoua, “you ean just believe I am. But,” and his voice betrayed, emotion now; “I am sorry that I annoyed you this evening. I might have known that you couldn’t care for me." Eva was trembling, but she managejl to answer. “Oh, you needn’t be. I’ve almost changed my mind.” ~ “Wha-what?” Jack cried. “Oh, you darling 1- I’m coming home on the first train in the morning arid change that inconsistent mind of yours for good.” And the telephone operator had the audacity, to giggle. (Copyright, 1918. by McClure Newspaper , ' Syndicate.) • "

A Suspicion.

“How do you know' that Bacon wrote Shakespeare?” “I don’t know it," replied Mr. Stormtagton Barnes. “But Shakespeare managed his own thefter and I don’t quite see how a man who had all those gentle and generous ideas In his System could be commercially successful as a manager."