Indianapolis Times, Volume 34, Number 82, Indianapolis, Marion County, 16 August 1921 — Page 3

itULERS OF THE SPOKEN DRAMA IN CONVENTION Theater Owners Become Scarce as Syndicates Buy j Up Houses Everywhere. HALL CAINE TO VISIT U. S. Special to Indiana Daily Times ami Philadelphia Public Ledger. By RAY MONO G. PAR KOI-1.. XEYV YORK. An*. 16—Owners and managers of legitimate and vaudeville i theaters trom all parts of the country are lu New York this week in response to a I call for the annual convention of ua tional theatrical managers. It is intended 1 to discuss questions of ‘ railroad transportation. labor conditions and wages and all other subjects afTectlng the the atriral managerial Interests." Half a century ago such a convention might ; have been representative of some diver- j sified opinion. Alas, today most of the theaters have passed under the control of those who either own or book the attractions and their managers are little more than Janitors for the Erlanger syndicate. the Shubert syndicate, and if vaudeville, the Keith circuit. That gives the convention the complexion of an agency meeting—employes of rival syndlcates called to the homo office for a Joint discussion of the business outlook and Incidentally to present theaterdom In the garments of a competitive Industry which it Is far from being at present. FEW INDEPENDENT OWNERS LEFT. However, there are still left a few more or less Independent house managers In the United States, among them being Calvin Ileilig of Portland. Ore.; Lou Scott of Minneapolis and St. Paul; Sherman Brown of Milwaukee: Harry Powers of Chicago; Peter MeCourteen of Denver; L. M. Boda of Columbus, and Col. i Joe Klnooh of Cincinnati. Some 6.000 • managers" were clrrularied for the convention. but fewer than a thousand are in attendance. With huge strings of theaters on their hands and torn by the competition of the picture houses, the big theatrical syndicates find the demand for the spodrama has dwarfed materially. They bnTe nowhere profitably to send their attractions after the New York clean-up. The situation is one of their own making, their harvest of the policy of grabbing theatres everywhere and killing oft local pride in local theater personalities who once had some voice in the booking of the attractions. An American literary man returning from Europe told of a visit paid when in England to the fireside of Sir Hall Caine of Grebe Castle, on the Isle of Man. HAM. CAINE TO VISIT AMERICA. -I found Pir Hall full of excitement over his portending visit to America,” he said. “You know he has been over on three previous occasions, the last time when Grover Cleveland was President. Sir . Hall related how he was staying with a friend at Buzzard'* Bay when the Vene- : zuela trouble arose. The very next house to where he was lodged was Gray Gables, Cleveland's summer home. “ ‘I often saw Mr. Cleveland." said Pir Hall, “and we talked of many things, but though Commodore Benedict's yacht : was then lying off the house and the trouble with England was before the President officially, he never once men- ! tinned that subject to me. On my return to New York a newspaper publisher of ! sered me H.fluO for an Interview. Os course I refused it. He offered me dou- ; ble, sure that 1 knew sometbtng of what was in Mr. Cleveland's mind. I refused that also.’ “When I called Sir Hall's attention to j the fact that he might have made a good bargain for the ‘diplomatic secret' the publisher thought he possessed. Sir Hal! raised his hands most deprecatingly. He •went on: “ ‘When I returned to England I found the society of authors at work. The’feelIng against America was strong In England. But Sir Walter Besant. founder of the society, had written a petition In favor of peace. It did not satisfy the chairman of the society. Sir Martin Conway. who asked me to write it over again I did so. putting all tny heart Into a protest against war between England and America. The petition was widely signed hy authors Including Lord Tennyson. Then a whole army of authors rose tip against ns and particularly against me. I was told that. I had acted unpatriotieally and ought to l>e turned out of the society of authors. A meeting was called to denounce the petition and me. I stood my ground and a little later President Cleveland wrote me a warm letter of thanks.’ “Sir Hall said his enrrerit book, 'The Master of Man.’ is his swan song, marking bis retirement from literature.” — Copyright, 1921, by Public Ledger Cos. Man Guards Melons; Shoots Trespasser Special to The Times. TERRE HAUTE. Ind.. Aug. 16.—While guarding a watermelon patch, southwest of this city late Monday, John .Webb. 42, a fanner, shot and seriously wounded Horace Dunham of West Terr© Haute, who was taking a melon. Webb fired a charge into the breast of Donham, who was sent to a bs-al hospital, where physicians say he has little chance of recovery.

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“THE STORY of NINETTE” A New Serial by RUBY AYRES

screaming and lay blinking up at him. Mrs. Purton came and stood beside the improvised cradle. “Os course, someone may come along and claim her." she said. “The police took all particulars.” “In that case, of course, my responsi billt yends." the young man answered : he gently disengaged bis fingpr from Ninette's baby grasp and walked out of the room. CHAPTER 11. Adopted by John Wheeler. But the weeks went by, and the months, and nobody seemed anxious to own Ninette, and the grass grew rank and uncared for over a nameless grave in Balham churchyard, and the room where Ninette was born was re-let to a third rate actor, who came home so drunk at night that the howling of the dogs in the yard outside never disturbed him, and Ninette grew up to be a wiid looking gipsy type of child, who played about the gutter with boys of her own age (she did not like girls), and picked up swear words and slang, both of which she used with fluency. She was five years old then, and had gone back to live under Mrs Purton s roof—not because Mrs. Purton was particularly anxious to have her, but because the weekly payments which John Wheeler still faithfully made to her, came in useful. Wheeler was the only soul in the world for whom Ninette cared in the smallest degreee and she adored him. She seemed to know instinctively that she owed what little happiness she knew to him. and as soon as her chubby legs were capable of carrying her unassisted up the stairs to his room, she climbed it dozens of times a day. Wheeler was a journalist, one of the struggling kind, who would always be struggling; he was not In the least brilliant, but he was a plodder, and could always rely upon knocking up sufficient money during a weekto pay for his own modest needs, and those of Ninette. It was he who—when she was old enough—taught her her alphabet and her first nursery rhyme, the latter dug from some nnforgotten store cupboard of his memory. “There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children she did not know what to do.” They made a quaint picture, the thin, mournful-eyed man. sitting there in the shabby room, lit by a solitary lamp, with the child on his knee. Her thick, dark hair was always untidy and hung in tangles about her face, and her clothes were always torn. Mrs. Purton did her best, but she was not getting any younger, ami she had reaily outgrown her natural sympathy and understanding of anything so young and unruly as Ninette Ninette broke into the middle of the recital to say: ‘Like auntie, eh 1 ” She always called Mrs. Purton “auntie.” John Wheeler checked a smile. “Not In the least like auntie.” ho said severely. "She doesn't live in s shoe, and she hasn't got any children;” “Got me. Goshi” Ninette insisted. She could never say “John." "Gosh" being the nearest she conid get to it "Y’ou spoil that child, Mr. Wheeler." Mrs Purton said somewhat severely. “What's going to become of hpr I should like to know 1 Why, you're making a lady of heri” She spoke as if it were a crime to be a lady. "Her mother wr.t a lady,” young Wheeler said. Mrs. Purren tossed her head. “And a lot of good It did her!” she scoffed. There seemed, however, no Immediate danger of Ninette emulating her mother s undonbfed refinement, for, in spit* of Wheeler's attempts to check her. she still swore terribly whenever sh* lost her temper, and frequently came In from the street with a black eye or a cut Up. which she had received in a stand-up fight with a boy twice her stye "Rhe’ll Improve when sh* goes to school." John Wheeler told himself; hut he was wrong The owner of the first school he sent her to, a prim maiden lady, gave up the task of educating her as hopeless at the end of the first fortnight. “She terror'zea every girl in the school; - ’ so the prim lady told John Wheeler trembling. “I must realty ask you to remove her.” “If you love me, Ninette," John said to the girl that night, “you woUd try to be good.” Ninette burst Into tears. “I do lor© you, I do’.” she declared passionately. “But oh. all the girls there were such fools I” But she took Wheeler's reproaches to heart, and tried hard to he good and interested at the new school he found for hpr. She was 12, then, long-legged and gawky, but with a promise of great beauty, which Mrs. Purton deplored. “The very spit of her mother, she Is I And her mother was good-looking enough. If yon put it that way. And much good her looks brought her. lying there in a nameless grave and nobody to shed a tear;” But Wheeler was proud of Ninette's beauty. In his quiet way ho had great plans for her future. lie pictured her grown up and making a great marriage.

(Continued From Page One.) lie never lost hope that, soma day he would be able to find out who her mother really was. and If there were any relatives still living. Out of his modeßt income he saved slowly for Ninette. He was a curiously friendless man. too shy to go about amongst people, too unambitious to wish to do more than just pay his way In the world, with a little to spare for the future of this girl who had been thrown i across his path so romantically. ; “YVhat are you going to do with mo when I leave school, Gosh?” Ninette asked him one day, when she had 1 slipped upstairs for a few minutes conversation while Mrs. Purton was out ot the way. In her odd time Ninette was supposed to help Mrs. Purton. but she hated housework nod shirked it whenever she could. “I loathe kitchens and greasy dishes I' she told Wheeler with a shiver. "I'd rather go out and sweep a crossing!" And it was apropos of that remark that she suddenly asked what he proposed to do with her when she grew up. CHAPTER 111. The Beginning of Trouble. Josh reered at her over bis glasses ! and shook her hend. “Auntie Purton says T ought to be taught to earn my own living,” Ninette Informed hlin “She thinks 1f I went into Bird's, the draper's. It would be nice.” Wheeler made a little grimace. He knew Bird's, the draper's, a small dark shop, that smelt of American' cloth and bales of unbleached calico, and he could not imagine Ninette standing behind its counter measuring out yards of ribbon. “There's plenty of time,” he said. “How old are you?” “Fourteen. Lots of girls have left school long before they are 14,” said , Ninette hopefully. “That's because their people can't afford to keep them on. perhaps." he auswered. She looked at him with her dark head ! on one side. , “(’an yon afford it, then?” she asked. “Yes,” said Josh firmly. Ninette got up and threw her arms round his neck. "You're the loveliest man In the world;” she said. Wheeler blushed. He loved Ninette's affection, though its demonstration always embarrassed him. “Mrs. Turton Is calling you,” he said. “Gosh. Is she really my aunt?” she asked suddenly. It was ttie first time she had ever queried the relationship. Wheeler hesitated. He had never told Ninette about her birth, but he was fully aware that some day he would have to do so. “She has been as good io you as if yon were really her niece.” ho said at last, firmly. “That means I'm not.” she said, with an air of relief. “I’m so glad;" He looked at h'-r curiously. “Why?” he asked. "Because, though she's very kind, she Isn't a lady," Bald Ninette defiantly. “And I should like to belong to someone who was a lady.” Thor* was a little silence. “Ladles,” said Josh Wheeler, “don't swear like you do. Ninette.” it seemed to him a most excellent opportunity for a little humility, but Nln 1 ette only laughed. “Oh, y.-s, they do!” she said. "Keen—the postman. you know—told me that his wife was lady's maid to a duchess once, and that she swore something awful, and threw things about the room!" “Oh:” said Wheeler blankly. He wilted. then added. “Your aunt Is calling yon again. Ninette." j “Oh, blow!" said Ninette. Ninette was id when, quite suddenly Mrs. Portion died. One minute she was apparently as well and full of energy s ever, and the next momerft she was lying face downwards on the kitchen floor, stone dead. Ninette wns with her at the time and the shock of it all aged the girl years. “I don’t feel ss If i can ever laugh again. J<>h,'’ she told Wheeler that night, as she crouched beside him—hey hands clasped round her knees, s look of hor ror on her young face. “One minute to be alive and well, and the next—like that "It was how she always wished to die,” J'th said gently, remembering how Mrs Purton had always expressed a horror of a long illness and having to lie iu bed, “a burden to every one.” Bnt he felt her loss greatly himself, and as soon ns the funeral was over and Mrs. Purton’s relatives—who had never visited her in her life, bnt came to fight over her few sticks In death—-had taken possession of the house, he found some rooms at Hammersmith and took Ninette away with him. She was delighted at th change. For days she amused herself dallying at housekeeping and rearranging the few odds and ends which belonged to them. "I hope we shall be able to live like this for the rest of our lives. Josh,” she said fervently. Rut at the end of a week the novelty had palled, as he knew It would, and she wns restless and unsettled. “What would you like to do?” ho asked her, when she complained of having nothing to do. “I don't want you to go out and work, hut if you would like to " “I'd rather do anything than stay at home all day,” she answered vehemently. .Tosh sighed. He supposed she wns right, and yet It had been his greatest pleasure to know that she was dependent

INDIANA DAILY TIMES, TUESDAY, AUGUST 16, 1921.

on him and that there was no need for her to work. Josh was 45 then and looked older. He stooped a great deal and where he not bald his hair was gray. His kindly, melancholy eyes seemed more near sighted than ever behind their glasses and his his face was lined and thin. “1 have never had a day’s illness in my life,” he told Ninette proudly when it suddenly occurred to her one evening that he was looking tired out and worn, but If it was the truth, he more than compensated for it during the next few weeks when a chill was followed by a simp attack of pneumonia, and the doctor shook his head and told Ninette that Josh Wheeler must die. Ninette turned deathly white; she looked the doctor full in the face with her burning eyes. “He will not die:” she said, but she was half dead herself with terror and deßpalr. CHAPTER IV. Bitter Disappointment. Josh had been ill for six weeks, and there was no money left; she bad forced him to let her draw bis small savings from the postoffice, and it had all gone in wine and necessa 'ies for him. The woman from whom they rented their rooms did not know the meaning of the word pity, and told Ninette frankly. that they must either pay or go. Ninette pawned everything pawnabie. even her best pair of boots. It would have broken Josh Wheeler's heart had he known it, but he was too ill to know, or knowing, to have cared. llis work had always been that of a free-lance, and he had never had a regular salary from any of the papers for which he worked. It was desperation at last that drove Ninette to try her own hand at writing articles. She wrote her first on her knees by Josh Wheeler's bed. by the light of a shaded lamp, and she was too driven by need and desperation to realize what a thoroughly uninteresting article It was She sent It to a weekly paper under .Tosh Wheeler's name, and waited in trembling hope for a reply. All that came, however, was a curt request from soma ono signing himself Teter .7. Nothard, for Josh Wheeler to call at the office at his earliest convenience. And as Josh Wheeler was lying between life and death at that moment Ninette went herself. If she had had visions of being compllmonted on her work, and of coming back with a cheque in her empty pocket, she wiis bitterly disappointed, for after being kept waiting twenfv minutes In a stuffy room, a youth his head round the door, stared at her, and finally suid ; I beg your pardon, l was looking for someone else." Sho found her voice then. "If you want Mr. Wheeler it's me! I

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mean, he's ill and so I've come instead.” The men stared for yet another moment, then opened the door wider. “Oh, well —Mr. Nothard wants to see you,” he said disbclievlngly. Ninette followed him along endless stone passages that all seemed alive with the sound of machinery u itil they came to a door with frosted glans panels, upon which the youth knocked, and when someone said, “Come in”—he stood aside to let Ninette enter and make her own explanations • She found herself in a large room with an expensive-looking Turkey carpet on the floor, and big leather armchairs standing about here and there. There was a big mahogany desk across one comer, at which a man sat writing a letter, and puffing et a cigarette. Though ho must have heard the door shut, he never even looked up till tired out. and too excited to be patient, Ninette broke out nervously: “I'm here—” He dropped his pen then, and started to his feet. “I beg your pardon, I'm sure. I ” he stared at Ninette very much as the youth had stared at her, and finally he said. “I think there’s some mistake—who is it you want to see?” “You-—ls you’re Mr. Nothard,” Ninette said desperately. He pulled forward a chair, but she ignored it, and went on feverishly: “Josh—Mr. Wheeler, is ill, so I've come —it s about the—tlje article he wrote on —on autumn in the country—you wrote and asked him to call kt the office; but he is ill, so I came.” "I see,” I’eter Nothard looked rather embarrassed. “I’m sorry Wheeler is 111,” he said, rather stiitedly. “What I was going to say to him can wait till he is better. Tell him, will you?” He took a step forward as if to dismiss her, but Ninette did not more. Her bands were clasped together, her dark eyes fixed on his face with a passion of hope in them. “And—and the nrticle?" she faltered at last. “Are yon—are you going to pay for it?” She rotild have killed him for the amused smile that crossed his face—-for he was a handsome man, but young and rather arrogant. “My dear child!" he said with unintentional condescension. * ‘I don't wish to hurt your feelings, but—well, it is not usual for us to accept—rubbish of this sort, even from a more or less regular contributor.” He flicked some paper* lying on his desk, which Ninette recognised as her illstarred manuscript. "I am sorry Wheeler is 111," the man said again “But really—this sort ot thing is beyond a Joke!” lie took the papers up, twirled over a page as If to read her an extract, bnt Ninette took a swift stop forward and tore them from his hand "It s not any more rubbish than a lot of slut? you print,” she stormed at him. Her face wns scarlet, her eyes full of passionate tears. “And yon need not think that we want your money—!'d rather die, and so would he than take a penny of it. And I —and T only hope that some day you'll know what it is to be Hi, srd poor, and h hungry, and—oh, 1 wish T had never come to your hateful office ” And she wns gone like a whirlwind before lie could move, or recover from bis astonishment. She was down the stairs and out in the street In a Cash, the tears running

down her face, the luckless article ! crushed in her hands. She hated him! Oh, how she hated j him 1 There was no other thought in her j mind; she had forgotten their desperate! need of money; for the moment site had forgotten that Jonh Wheeler lay at , death's door: she could only think of | the handsome cynical face of the man who ■ bad called her desperate attempt “rubi bish,” and realize how keenly she longed to haunt him as he had hurt her. Passers-by stared at her curiously, but she was unconscious of them: it was only when she found herself outside the door of the house where she and Josh lodged, that she stood for a moment in a des- j perate effort to recover htr self-control be- ! ! fore she opened the door and climbed the j shabbily carpeted stairs to their rooms. She met the sour-faced landlady on the landing, and with sudden fear clutching at her heart faltered out: “Oh, is he'—he isn't any worse?” The woman gave her a sharp look. “Not that I know of; not that I’ve been near him to see.” Ninette went on into Josh Wheeler's i i room; it was dark, with blinds half drawn, and a small, poor fire burning in the grate. Josh lay on hia back, his peaked face upturned to the ceiling, his eyes closed, and bis breath coming in painful Irregular gasps. CHAPTER V. ‘ You Have Stayed Too Long' Ninette looked at him and quickly away again. Every day cow she could see s change in the face she loved better than i anything on earth; every clay the Shadow i of Death seemed to be creeping nearer and nearer. At that moment she felt she could have committed murder in order to save him; j she thought of Peter Nothard, and 1 clenched her hards. He might have helped her—what would a "ouple of guineas have been to him. when, from all ..hat Josh had said, he was one of the richest men in Loudon? She hoped that some day she would get her chance to spy hlra out—she hoped that some day he would want something of her desperately, badly, and that she would be in the position to refuse it. It was late October then, and the evenings were drawing in rapidly; the silence and depression of the room nearly | drove her mad; the knowledge of her irn- ■ potency made her frantic; she coaid well j understand how desperation turned peo j pie Into criminals. When the only clock | in the house struck S she could Lear it j nu longer; she put on her hat again and j " stole out once more into the street, i A fine rain was falling and the air . j was humid. Ninette walked along, tool ] miserable to heed in which direction her steps carried her, her thoughts ail with | the man she had left iu that cheerless, ! silent room. She could not imagine her i j life without him; she knew that she; owed everything in the world to him, and | j yet now she was powerless to do any- | ' thing in return for him. I She must have walked some distance j : when she found herself in the quiet street ; of n far better class neighborhood than that in which *he and Josh lived. The | I houses w.wc most semi-detached. and I i stood in their own grounds; there were' ; lights in many windows, and their cheer! n*sg brought the tears smarting again to her eyes. How unfair life wns. that some people ( had ©veryting and others nothing at all A garden gat clanged to close bei side her, and she stepped Into the road i

way, to avoid two men who had come from one of the houses. She could see by the light of a street lamp that they were both in evening dress, and she caught the whiff of an expensive cigar a* one of them stopped with an annoyed ejaculation. “Bother! I’ve left the latchkey in the door.” Ninette beard the words disinterestedly ; beard, too, the other man’s impatient retort: “Never mind! I shall miss the train if you wait; you'll be back In ten mlnues.” They hurried ou together, and Ninette stood quite still, looking at the darkened windows of the house from which they had come. There was no actual intention in h*r mind, and it was subconsciously that presently she found herself moving through that closed garden gate aud up the path to the front door. “Bother! I’ve left the latchkey in the door!” The words were echoing through her mind again and again, but she felt as if she was walking in her sleep when she groped through the darkness and touched it with her shaking fingers. She drew her hand away with a shiver, but against her will It seemed to steal back once more—to grip the key, and turn it—to push open the door. Then she caught her breath hard In her throat and for a moment closed her eyes as against the darkness of her lids she saw the sunken face of Josh | Wheeler. He was dying-—he would have to die j unless—the next moment she was In the j ball, gToping along the wall for the ' switch of the light. She found it so easily! Surely every- | thing was conspiring together to help i her?—and in a moment a dimly-shaded | light flooded the hadL She hardly glanced around her —she went straight to a door on the right and opened it. She turned on the light here, too, with a reckless feeling that nothing mattered, and found herself in | a handsomely furnished library, where ! a bright wood fire burned in the grate. It was the sight of the fire that brought the realization home to her for the first time that she was both cold and wet, and with a little smothered cry she went over to It, and, kneeling down. : held her chilled, trembling hands to Its | warmth. She had forgotten that every moi ment was precious; that If she wished to get away before anyone discovered ! her, she must not delay, i The house was perfectly stiU and there (was not a sound in the road outside. She looked round the room with envious eyes; this was the sort of home ! ,T..sh deserved to have; he was the best | man in the world, but he had never known anything but hard work. ami the I bare necessities of life had been his only l reward. There were flowers in a bowl on the table here, and silver frames on the nun--soofhinq And H&Alinq Promotes Skin Health

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Ablac. F. W. A to.. City Yard. E. Wash, and B it. , , Irvington Yard. Bonn* and Good. A(la C ©ill Cos., 1025 N. Senate. Barrett ( onl A Fuel Cos., 349 TV. South. BUchof * Fls**. 2051 N. Bnral. Brookslde Lumber Cos.. 1402 Commerce. Bnghee Coal Cos., 300 Hoiton Place, t apitol City Coal ( 0., 520 8. State. Cassady Coal Cos.. Tenth and Sherman. Central Coal Cos., 340 11. Michigan. City Ice * Coal Cos.. 120 E. Wash. Commercial Fuel A Feed Cos., 318 W. Ohio Cross Coal Cos.. 1541 Blaine. Danish Fuel * Feed Cos.. 902 Torbett. Davis Coni and Block Cos., C. I. A "■ nnd Bitter. . Dell Frank M., Cmse and S. F.ast. Ehrlich Coal. Cos., 601 Kentucky Ave. Frederick, J. W. 881 Beecher. Fultz. J. E., 543 Miley At*. Gansberg, TVm. F.. 1006-8 Shelby. Gate*. E. K. Coal Cos., 577-83 Vinton. (.cm Coal Cos., 1181 Roosevelt. Gocpper, Fred. 443 N. Holmes. Grover Coal Cos.. 535 TV Wyoming. Hagrlskamp Bros. A Haverkamp, Churchman and Belt. Undo Coal Cos., 2555 Sherman Drive. Hailo teal Cos., S. Sherman. Heller. E. E. A Cos., Fletcher Ave. and Bint Four. Hobart A Matthews, 1037 8. Keystone. Hogue. J. L. l'nel A Supply Cos., TwentyNinth and Canal. _ Home Coal Cos., Big Fonr and E. North. Indianapolis t 00l Cos.. Bankers Trust. Yard No. 1, Fine and Bates Sts. Yard No. 4, Twenty-Third and Cornell. Yard No. 5, Wash, land Noble St. Y ard No. 6. 320 8. West St. Yard No. 7, 323 W. Sixteenth Si. Yard No. 8, 2130 W. Michigan st. Yard No. 9, Monon and 51st St. Yard No. 10, 936 E. Michigan. Indianapolis Mortar A Fuel Cos., Main office. 407-10 Odd Fellow Bldg. South Yard, .Madison Ave. and Ray St., Pennsylvania R. R. East Yard, 1010 K. Thirteenth St.. Monon R. R. North Yard, ThtrHeth and Canal. Big Four R. R. West Yard, Thirteenth nnd Missouri Sts., Big Fonr K. R. Brightwood Yard, Rural and Roosevelt, Big Four R. R. Mill Yard, W. Wash, and Belt R. R. Norther oft Yard, Forty-Ninth and Monon. Irvington Coal and Lime. 5543 Bonna. Keeport. A. B. A Cos., 820 N. Senate. Lambert Coal and Coke Cos.. 115 S. State

telshelf. A man’s gold watch case lay on a writing desk standing at right angles to the fire, and it was upon this that Ninette's gaze fell and fastened. She had so often priced them in shop windows, and wished she could have afforded to buy one for Josh; she knew that they cost sometimes thirty or forty pounds!—thirty or forty! It seemed to her unhappy, over strained mind that such a sum of money would keep her and the man she loved for ever and ever. She rose slowly from her knees and crept over to the writing table, looking down at the watch. The man to whom it belonged would never miss it. and what did it matter if he did? She would have gone to prison a dozen times over at that moment to have saved John Wheeler's life: her heart beat fast with passionate defiance ns she put out her hand and her fingers closed about the costly toy. Thirty or forty pounds!—it seemed s fortune as she tremblingly thrust it into the folds of her wet coat and turned to the door. Then she started back with a choking ery, for a man stood there behind her, barring the way. a man with a grim, unsmiling face and hard eyes that rested on her without pity or yielding as he said dryly. “You have stayed Just a moment too long. I think.” Aud tie man was Peter Nothard! (Another installment of this fascinating story will appear tomorrow.)

SUFFEREDSEVEN LONG YEARS Finally Relieved by taking Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound

Ravenswood, W. Va. —“For seven long years I suffered from a female m - rn a *° ° B j° several doctors s Jffibut none seemed t° give me relief. I read in a paper PHI •'UppraSPinkham’s Vege* " iJ-H it, and before the first bottle was gone I found great relief so I continued using it until I had taken eight bottles. Now I am very well and can do my own housework. I can gladly recommend Lydia E. Pinkham's medicine to suffering women. ’’ Mrs. Bertha Liering, R. F. D., Ravenswood, W. Va. The ordinary day of most housewives is a ceaseless treadmill of washing, cooking, cleaning, mending, sweeping, dusting and caring for little ones. Howmuch harderthe tasks when some derangement of the system causes headaches, backache, bearingdown pains and nervousnesa Every such woman should profit t>y Mrs”. Liering’s experience and try Lydia E, Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound.

Lambert Coal * Coke Cos.. !10t Cornell l.Hten. t. C„ Coal Cos., 1005 E. Pratt. I-ocal Coal Company, 801 Bates st. Loral Coal Company, 921 K. 23d St. Marshal Pro*., 3407 RooseveltMeyer, A. B. £ Cos., main office, 233 W, Penneylrania. Went Yard, 830 X. Senate. Last Yard, 1007 E. Michigan. Part Yard, Annex, 1010 E. Vermont. South Yard, 1240 Madison Are. berth Yard, 2oth and Cornell. North Yard Annex, 34th and Cornett. Kentucky Are. Yard. 1120 Kentucky Are. Northwestern Are. Yard, I‘ltt St. and Northwestern Are. Mlnter Coal and Coke Cos., 134 8. California. Uonn, E. F„ Coed Cos., Tibbs and Walnut. Monn, E. F„ Coal Cos., 201 S. Harris. Monon Fuel Cos., 040 E. St. Clair. Monon Fuel Cos., 2820.1 V. Michigan. Mneslng-Merrlck Coal Cos., 114 E. 224. Muesing-Merrick Coal Cos., 174{> English Ave. Myers Fnel Cos., Ohio and Hartdson. Nackenhorst Coal t 0., 1721 Naomi. Penn tout Cos., 777 E. Washington. Peoples Coal A Cement Cos., nitdn of floe. 818 Traction Bldg. North Yard, 42d and ilonott. East Yard, 15th and L. E. A YF. South Yard, Shelby and Bates. Phelps C oal £ Cement Cos., 2712 E. Washington. Pittman Coal Cos., 102 S. LaSalle. Playfooi, A. E., 3539 Eooserelt. Polar Ice A Fuel Cos., 20th and X. Webster. Potter Coal Cos.. 3505 E. Washington. R. A S. Coal Cos., 2820 IV. Michigan. Robertson., Kick, Coal Cos., 430 S. Harding. Roberts, Sherman, Coal Cos., 1603 W. Washington. Schuster, Frank J„ Cool Cos., Troy and Allen. Silrox, S. C.. 1518 Madison. Silver, M. A., 1634 Alvord. Spickelmler Fuel A Supply Cos., 80th and L. E. A tV. Snyder, Enos R.. Bluff Are. South Side lee A Coal t 0., t9CS 8. East. Stuck, Robert G., C„ 1. A W. at Trowbridge. Stnekmeyer A Cos., Big Four and Lexington. Tuxedo Coal Cos.. 4301 E. New Tork. West Side lee Cos., Lynn and Hig lour. Cnlon ks A Cool C'o., 1910 Bluff. Wlthlnger, Elmer, 1125 Roach.

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