Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 40, Number 315, 16 December 1915 — Page 17

itits. , xClGH&i -O ' JALLAD1UM AND SUN-ELEUKAxa. Xti UKiSJjAY, DEC. 16, 1S15

rAUS iac; vENTEEN

iff AYS TO ADVERTISE " , , , Novelized by : Samuel Field From the ' Successful Play ROr COOPER MEQRUE

4 1 WALTER HACKETT Copyright, 1914-1915. by Rot Cooper Meg-rue and Walter Hackett "tMniy why don't you da something worth while?" bargained for with the old magnate ' upstairs. Rodney showed only, too plainly that he had something on his : mind. Be drew her Into a small recept tion room on the first floor and made filar sit down. It was a little pink aud " gold room which was never used ex- ' cept for a cloakroom when dinners were given or the housekeeper engag- , ed a new servant. Lately Mary's typewriting machine bad come to figure Incongruously as a part of Its furnish- ' lags sine the clicking keys bothered Mr. Martin In his library and Mary came down here often to write. Despite her bargain with the old gentleman upstairs she made a brave attempt to ward off something that she saw was inevitable here and now. She ' took the lines In her own hands aud tried to steer the conversational craft - safely through the rapids. f iJ'tBodnajr,:' ah said, ."tell me what you have been doing today. . Be told her. . v "Well, I call that a very unprofitable twelve hours," said Mary firmly." "Rodney, why don't you do something worth while? Why don't you go Into ' some business? Have an office with your name on the door. Be somebody. It would please your father so." Rodney was dressed In the correctest masculine fashion, Mary noted gray spats, a braided English morning coat, a huge white carnation In his buttonhole, and quite heavenly trousers. He wore a tie from Dasher's. Ro" 'y was a nice boy, and bad nice manners. He . was only twenty-four, and his face.bad a certain quaint frank charm in spite ' of his funny little mustache. He was by no means brainless, Mary was sure, notwithstanding his father's theories; only undeveloped by reason of the kind of life he had led and Its appallingly frlctionless conditions. At the present moment he had an unaccustomed air of resolution that pervaded all the little room and made Mary retreat behind the typewriting desk, quailing in spite of herself. As ' she sat down, to her astonishment, she beheld Rodney turning the key In the door that led Into the ball. CHAPTER III. " Complications. I WANT to talk to you." said Rod ney, coming toward Mary. "I've . been wanting this opportunity for days, and now that I've got It I don't propose to be interrupted. That's why I locked the door." Rodney hud come over to her. "I want to talk to you," he said Impetuously. "Mary, will you marry me?" "Why, really," began Mary shyly. "I don't know what to say," hesitated the girl, feeling her ground. ; "Suy yes," cried Rodney, waiting feverishly to hear her answer. 1 It came at last shyly, "Yes," wherevpon Rodney cried, "You angel !" Joyfully and tried to grab her. But things must not go quite so fast, Mary thought Intuitively, and drew away a little from him, though, to tell the truth, she would willingly have let him catch her as she felt now. "No, no; wait a moment," she said. "We'll be married right away," went on Rodney unabashed. V "But suppose your father disapproves?" said Mary. "He won't know anything about It until we're married, and then what could he do?" objected Rodney. ( ""He might cut you off." suggested Mary sagely. ' "Would you care?" asked Rodney, 'v ,"I? No, no, indeed." said Mary nattily. "I was thinking of you, dear." "Don't you bother about me." cried Rodney. "We'll .be married tomorrow , and then come home for the parental blessing. "No., I couldn't do that." said Mary. "It wouldn't Ix right. I'm his private "iecrctari.5 He trusts me and brings tue here to bis home, and then to find I'd married his son on the sly no, Rodney,; we couldn't do that." ,. "You do make it sound rather bad." aid ' Rodyey. "I . slymldn't want to

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freai; ratner naaiy. weve arw una pretty good friends, he and I. I guess I'd better tell him In a week or so" Mary's self composure had been rapIdly returning during this colloquy, and she was surer of what sbe wanted. Indeed It piqued her a little that Rodney should have made such a proposal to her, so that now her own inclinations 'and the old gentleman's upstairs ran in the same channel. , She spoke up quite resolutely:" "Why. Rodney, if you love, me you will want to get this awful suspense over' with." " ... . "But suppose he does object?" Rodney argued, seeing his light of happiness grow dim. "Even then I wouldn't give yon up," aid his sweetheart. "Mary!"

"You could go into business," sbe went on, "make a big man of yourself, make me proud of you" "You talk just like the heroine in a play I saw last night," protested Rodney. "She wanted7 the hero to go- to work, and he did, and then for four acts everybody suffered." "Don't you want to work?" aBked Mary anxiously. - "I should say not," Rodney answered quite seriously. "Imagine going to bed every night knowing you'd got to get up In the morning and go to business." "You'd be happier, wouldn't yon," queried Mary, "If you had a job?" "Please don't talk like father." protested Rodney. "He's preached a job at me ever since I left college. Why should I work? Father made millions out of soap and is forever complaining that he's always bad his nose to the grindstone, that he's never known what fun was, that it's all made him old before his time. I can't see the sense of following n example like that I really can't. He's got enough for you and me and our children and their grandchildren. I've explained all this to him, but I can't seem to make him understand. But it's simple why work when there's millions in the family? And why even talk of it when you and I are in love?" . . He; leaned hungrily toward her, stretching out bis arms to her, and finished on a note of genuine appeal: "Come, kiss me, Mary." - But Mary drew back from him quickly. "No, you mustn't," she said firmly. "Not till you've spoken to your father." "You won't even kiss me till I tell him?" "No." "And you will when I do?" "Yes." "Then I'll tell him right away!" cried the valiant lover, striding to the door. "Oh, Rodney, you're splendid!" applauded. Mary, "and don't be afraid." "Afraid!" echoed Rodney scornfully. But be paused a moment at the door and said: ; "You don't think I'd better wait till the morning?" "No, I don't," said Mary. "And don't be silly about his gout. He really is a very patient invalid." , , Rodney stood a moment with his band on the knob, plucking up resolution,As he lingered there' a violent knocking sounded on the other side, and his father's voice could be dlstinct"Yeu angel!" ly heard crying "Ouch!" In an extra loud tone In the hall. "Speaking of the patient invalid," whispered Rodney, looking back at the girl for whom he was so greatly daring. "If you don't ask him now I'll never marry you," whispered Mary, forming her words as distinctly as was possible under the circumstances. "Open the door!" cried the elder Martin angrily in the hall. "I'm coming, father. Coming," quaked Rodney as he turned the key. The door was no sooner opened than his father strode into the room sternly, uttering the ejaculation "Ouch !" twice and the polite phrase "the devil!" nt least once as be crossed the threshold. "Why was that door locked?" he demanded, scowling. "Was it locked?", asked Rodney Innocently. "You young fool, didn't you Just unlock it?" roared his father. "So I did." said Rodney nervously. Mary in the meanwhile had retreat1 to ber typewriter, and now began pifylug violently. "Stop that noise," shouted Mr. Martin. The noise ceased immediately, and Rodney looked at her discouraged. She motioned to him to go on. Meanwhile Martin painfully limped to a chair by a small table and sank Into it, his foot giving him another twinge. "Ouch! Oh, my poor foot!" be moaned. Rodney hastily picked up a footstool and came with it to his father. ' "I'm arraid your foot hurts," he ventured propitintingly. "Not at all I Just pretend . that it does," growled his father. "I hoped you were better," said the son sincerely, . ..

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Well; I'm "riot What's that you got j

there r - "A footstool I thought it might make you more comfortable." "Comtortable? How much do you want out of me now?". bis father asU-d shrewdly. "Why nothing, father," Rodney answered. "Well, anyhow the answer la. not a nickel" "Why do you say that?" Rodney quavered. "I "know you, and whatever it Is you can't have it'V Rodney turned appealingly to Mary, who Ignored him. He turned back to "I'm earning, father. Coming," quaked . . Rodney. . . his father again, and tried to muster up his courage to the sticking point. "Well, as a matter of fact. I did want" he beganrclearing his throat. "Oh, now we're getting to it," Martin retorted. "Well, what is it?" "I wanted to have a talk with you an important talk" "Curious! That's just what I wanted to have with you. I've wanted it all day, and now we'll have it. Miss Grayson!" he called to Mary. "Yes, sir," said Mary meekly. "Qet out!" . She went without a glance at Rodney, who stood looking after her dejectedly, not knowing that his love's Intention was to give him moral support by listening in the hall. "Now, what do you mean by overdrawing your allowance again?" she beard Mr. Martin say when the door was closed. ; "Why," innocently answered Rodney, "it simply proves that I was right when I told you my allowance was too small." ' "What!", ejaculated his father, quite evidently aghast I "And if my: allowance is too small tovVntvsch ' top. jtmallfot two," the boy continued ingeniously. " "For two?" ". . 1 "Father, has it ever occurred to you that I might marry?" inquired Rodney. . "Of course it has. You're fool enough for anything," growled his father. "I don't consider a man a fool because he's married," said Rodney. "That's because you've never tried it "I intendto trjT it, just the same," said Rodney. "Oh, you do, do you? Who is the girl?" "The girl?" repeated his son nervously. "Yes, girl. You're not going to marry an automobile, or a polo pony, or an aeroplane, or any other of your idiotic amusements, are you? You're going to marry a girl, aren't you? Some blue eyed, doll faced, gurgling, fluttering little f ool. Oh, why doesn't God give young men some sense about women?" "I object very strongly to your speaking in that' way of Miss Graysou," poke up Rodney angrily. "Miss Grayson? Miss Grayson you're not going to marry a typewriter!" "Yes.Bir." "Does she know it?" "Yes, sir." "Oh. of course sbe knows a good thing like you when she sees it" "I won't listen to you talk of Miss Grayson in that way" "You've got to listen. I won't permit any such absurd, ridiculous marriage. Thank heaven you had sense enough not to elope!" "I wanted to, but she wouldn't She insisted on your being told. So you see what an injustice" "Injustice! Can't you see she wanted me to know so that if I disapproved and cut you off she'd not be stuck with you on her hands?" "Please, father" pleaded Rodney and then dropped bis hands at bis sides and turned to go. adding, "It's quite useless." "No, my boy; wait a minute." said Mr. Martin. "Remember I'm your friend, even if I am your father. Don't you believe it? It's only your money ahe wants'." . "I know It isn't," replied Rodney proudly. "I'll prove it is," said his father, pushing an enameled electric bell that stood near him on the table. "What are you going to do?" cried Rodney nervously. "Send for Miss Grayson," said his father grimly. "I'll tell that scheming secretary that if yon persist in this marriage I'll disinherit you, and then you watch her throw you over," he amplified for Rodney's benefit. "Even if you are my father you shan't Insult the girl I love," protested Rodney hotly. "Poppycock! You're afraid to put her to the test. You're afraid she will chuck you," retorted his father. But Rodney answered quietly:' "I'm not afraid, father. You're mistaken." Johnson appeared meanwhile in answer to the bell and in a surprisingly snort time and with a queer look on his usually Imperturbable face, if they had only noticed it, returned with ary.. Grayson .i-;1er hia.c'l. illcry

Iook&T. from fatter to son Vitft an elaborately assumed air of innocence, and Inquired : " "You wanted me. Mr. Martin?" " She saw -Rodney trut of the -tail of her eye make a movement toward her and say "Mary" In a pleading tone; then beard bis father interrupting him curtly. ."My precious on," he told her. "has Just Informed me that you and he Intend to get married. Is that right?"

CHAPTER IV. The Bargain. "0 H, sir," Mary began timidly, al most losing her composure a J moment, to tntnk or tne pass that thinnr. bad come to with her connivance.' She was not sure, moreover. If the soap king bad not really been in earnest In bia Eliminations as they floated out to ber in the hall. Either his acting or his gout must be genuine today, she began to fear.. "Because I wish to tell you." he began again, "that it be marries you he'll not get one penny of my money. . And that means he'll starve. I suppose you realize that?" Mary turned to Rodney, who was standing " up very straight near the window looking on Fifth avenue, one hand catching the braided lapel of his coat as his eyes devoured ber with such real love and confidence showing fin bis face that she could' not resist his love's appeal to ber. . She turned to bis father and answered him courageously; "Then at least we'll starve together." She was rewarded by the exultation hi Rodney's voice as he exclaimed, "Mary!" "You see. father.", he added for the old gentleman's benefit. "Making a grand stand play, eh." went on the soap magnate remorselessly to Mary, "before my Idiot of a son. You think I'm so fond of him that I'll relent. Well, you're wrong. Neither of you will ever get a nickel out of we." "We shaat starve." declared Rodney. "Well, what can you do to keep from (starving?" demanded his father. You're not a producer. You never will be. You're just an idler. You couldn't earn $5 a week. But you'll have a chance to try. You'll get out of my house tonight, or I'll have you thrown out." "Now. father" "Not another word, sir, not another word!" cried his father and stamped out angrily into the hall. Mary gave an Involuntary sigh of relief. "It's getting more like that play every minute." Rodney chuckled. "Oh. Rodney. I'm so. so sorry." sniveled Mary. "You were bully the way you stuck up for me," said her lover. "When "Then at least we'll starve together.' you said we'd starve together I Just choked all up." "Please don't. Rodney," protested Mary, quite genuinely touched, and Rodney went on: "Just because he's got a lot of money he seems to think there isn't any left for other people, but I'll show him. I may not -e much at the start, but watch my Huish" -"What are you going to do? she Bsked him excitedly. "I'm going to work." "You are -really?" "Yes. indeed. Father couldn't make me do it, but you can. I'll work for you." "Oh, you are splendid!" Mary cried. "Shall you get a position?" "I should say not! Work for some one else? No! I'm going in business for myself for you. I'm , going to show the stuff that's in me. Of course we can't get married till I've made good. Will you wait?" "Yes, dear," said Mary shyly. "You're a dandy!" cried Rodney, moving nearer to her. "What business are you going into?" she asked. "I don't know yet" said Rodney. "I'm going upstairs to pack a suit case and think. Wait here for me. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." he sang out grabbing her and kissing her hastily, but heartily. ' "Oh, oh please" protested Mary. "Don't mind, Mary. I'll get you used to 'em." he called from the doorway. She threw herself back on tbe Louis XV. sofa next the yellow typist's desk and waited, In a sudden reverie. Tbe carved wooden rim of tbe sofa back Just fitted a chink in her coiffure comfortably, and she lapsed Into that curious state of Introspection that cornea sometimes with bodily and mental relaxation. What did she think of herself for what she'd done this evening? Was she any better than an adventuress? Was she not cajoling a young man into proposing to her for the love of money? Would Rodney's father really reward bee as be bad promised to do?

Strangely enougn it would TT seemed so bad. she felt If she 'didn't like Rodney.' Well, if the old man didn't pay. let him keep his money. She shouldn't care. It was something to have won a love like Rodney's love for ber. There was something very lovable about Rodney Mai tin In a moment Rodney himself bound ed in again on her day dreams. There waa the thud of a heavy kit bag dropped on the marble floor of the ball by the front door, and then he ran' In to ber impetuously, with his anna open. "Mary, sweetheart P be cried. He held ber away from him a moment to regard ber face. "The pater's upstairs - dressing for dinner," he rattled on. . "I shan't even say goodby to blm. - Serve bim right I'm going to take a stage down to tbe Collegiate club this very night Can't afford cabs now." "Rodney." whispered Mary conservatively, "you must work bard and be brave." "And can't I do that for tbe sweetest sweetheart In the whole world?, he demanded rapturously, folding her again In his arms. He hugged her greedily to him, and she yielded to bim a little despite herself. There was something fresh and clean about the boy, and certainly bis kisses were not distasteful. The arms she felt around her were a man's arms and very strong. In the end Rodney decided be would have a cab anyway, and so he and Mary left the bouse of the soap king in each other's company without farewells. It was their last ride together, so to speak, and a very blissful one for tbe young lover. Rodney was going to take a room at the Collegiate club.

but first they spun across the somber' park to Mary's apartment somewhere in tbe West Seventies, and Rodney bade her n rapturous good night while tbe motor throbbed and -the taximeter spun. The gout had been so benefited by the exploslou of yesterday that Cyrus Martin had gone down to his office next morning, as Mary guessed he would, and the two met there on somewhat more impersonal terms than in the Fifth avenue library. Very imper- J sonal indeed Mary tried to make it seem to the wily magnate and threw something unwonted and chilly into tbe manner with which she greeted him. "Well." he began, "do you think our scheme is going to work?" "Yes." said Mary quietly. "I do." "You. really think you have got blm to go to work?" he demanded eagerly? "I have," said Mary. "By George, that's great!" said Mr. Martin gleefully. "Isn't it " said Mary. "You're sure he wasn't just talking?" "No, he went upstairs to pack and go out and make a name for himself." "You're a wise girl, Mary, isn't It wonderful?" "And you said I couldn't do it," said Mary coldly. "I said I didn't think you could, but you have, and I owe you $2,500." -"Oh, there's no hurry!" said Mary, still quite coolly. "Never, put. off till tomorrow tqe money you can get today." said the millionaire. "Aren't you proud I've been so successful?" said Mary presently. "Proud! I'm so darned happy I'm making this check out for $5,000." "Ob. Mr. Martin!" Mary cried, quite taken aback. "It's worth $50,000 to me to have my boy really want to work, not Just to do It to please me," said the old man, really moved beneath bis gruff exterior. "What a difference an Incentive makes V "Doesn't it?" said Mary, smiling at her check. "But what about your marriage?" "He said he wouldn't marry me till he'd made good if I'd Just wait." Her employer looked at her a little anxiously. "Do you think perhaps he may really love you?" he asked. "Of course not," said Mary. "It's tbe first time he's actually wanted to marry anybody." said his father. "Oh. It's just that I've been very blue eyed and baby faced!" said tbe secre-' tary modestly. "I guess you're right." agreed Martin. "Of course I am. Why. dear Mr. Martin, even for this." she said, pointing to her check. "I wouldn't give your son one real pang. He's too nice a boy. When I break our engagement he may feel a bit lonely and be very sorry for himself for a few days and give up women forever, hut pretty soon some charming girl of his own position of his own world, who needs to be petted and spoiled and protected, some limousine lady will come along, and they'll live happily ever after." "Nonsense!" said Mr. Martin. "I don't agree with you at all. I begin to wish this marriage were going to be on the level." "It wouldn't work out." Mary interrupted. "I'm a business woman. Marriage and the fireside aud leaning on some man are not for me. I've been independent too long. I couldn't stop my work for a man. and there can't lie two beads hi n family two happy beads. Even if your son did love me really love I wouldn't marry him. Just now he's twenty-four, with an India rubber heart that is easy to stretch and easier to snap back. All men at twenty-four are like that" "I suppose so." Mr. Martin commented remlniscenlly. "I remember when I was a young man there was a girl my heart was broken for a week perhaps ten days however, however" Then, abruptly changing the subject, be inquired. "What's my son going to work at?" "I don't know yet" Mary said truthfully. "Do you think he'll make good?" i "He will If be keeps at it" "Well, you'll keep bim at it won't you?" ' "That wasn't our agreement." said Mary. , "I only undertook to get him to start to work." "Hm!" went Mr. Martin, tapping tbe arm of his chair... . "Isn't that truer demanded Mary quietly. "Quite, quite." ,4 Mwtjp

"I was just thinking we migbt mate some agreement to nave you keep blm on the Job." ; ? "To keep him on the Job?" echoed Mary faint heart edly. Here was a new complication If the soap king was proposing a second chapter in the deception. She had honestly meant to give the whole thing up. She truly did not want Rodney to get permanently Interested In her. She had let htm kiss her the memory of his kisses still trembled on ber lips but she had done that for the boy's own good. Poor littie secretary, pretty little Mary Grayson, what was she to think of things how cleave ber way through this tangle of motives that bound her heart and hands? Sbe bad let him kiss her, yes, but bad it really been wrong In her? Was it bad? No, she found her whole soul protesting. It was not wrong or bad. It had been for the boy's own good, sbe told herself again. She hogged the thought greedily, tasting a portion of that joy of women in giving herself up to some man for his good. But she. would not spoil his life. Sbe had been firm as to that And now here was old Mr. Martin coming back at ' her with this hateful- power of money and trying to bribe ber to go on. What should she do? Suddenly, by a complete change of venue, ber thoughts attacked the case from a different angle. Sbe had been enough in the business world to know tbe power and use of money, and from a French grandfather sbe bad inherited a streak of tbe keen and honest thrift Let tbe rich people look out for themselves; tbe poor bad to. Curiosity, too. set in. and helped dictate her answer when she finally made It "Well." she said at last enigmatical, ly. "I'm a businesswoman." Mr. Martin looked at ber delightedly. "What strikes you as fair?" he asked her. "I'd rather the proposition came from you." rejoined Mary. "What do you say to your present sal. ary. and at tbe end of the year I will personally give you a check for 25 per eent of what he has made?"

"That wouldn't Interest me." said Mary. . "What's your proposition then?" ask. ed Martin. "State your terms." "My present salary doubled," said the business woman promptly. "I'm that's pretty steep." "You told me what I'd done already was worth $50,000 to yon," retorted Mary. "Merely a figure of speech, my dear, said Martin. "Let's see, you're getting $40' a week, and" "Fifty dollars, and I want $100." "Sounds like a hold up." "Then let's drop It This new contract was your idea, not mine. Good evening" She moved to the door. "Hold on, hold on." Martin cried after her. "I was simply figuring," be ex- ' "Then let's drop It" plained; "tell you what I'll do. SeTea ty-five dollars a week and 10 per cent of what be makes." "All right. I ll go you." said Mary. "Good." said Mr. Martin. . "Will you just write me n note stat. ing the facts and consideration V Mary pursued. "Certainly." He began to write, and as his pen moved across tbe paper Mary went on: "As soon as you see Rodney you'U have to discbarge me." "I will, violently. I'm a pretty good actor under your direction." CHAPTER V. Pai Maktt Progress. " ODNEY left tbe club and went Jf home. He skipped upstairs to his room two steps at a time and began flinging things out of drawers and chiffoniers. What trunk should he take that ' new bite he had made In Paris last' summer "before the war?" No. he could send for that later, and besides, be didn't want to stay away from Mary aty longer than he could help. He wouldn't take all bis things just now; be would leave a good many behind, so that his father would be sorry if he ever came Into his room again after bis baby boy was gone. He would not take a trunk at all now just his kit bag. Where was that kit bag? Johnson would know. He started to ring for Johnson and then checked himself.' He would not say anything to the servants yet He didn't want them to be a party to this painful scene. He would leave them misinformed and keep his father guess ing a little while. He would go and get that kit bag himself. It was In the garret most likely. Mb. had sneaked up tbe p arrow gar

ret stafrGaae. the boaros-nfttaTclatf faow and then beneath his tread, joat as they used to do when he was a end. Under the eaves he spted his kit bag. covered with dust He dragged at tt, and a pile of maamslaes aad odda and ends of books feu forward acraas Ms arms. One of them wasa bettered cash book, or eld diary, bound wtth a black and white back, and with many recipes written In a refined feminine hand on its blank pages.Rodney reaeeoaberad this weU. It was a real heirloom from the Series, his mother's people, . who had prided themselves on setting a food table. Rodney sat down on his dusty kit bag and turned over tbe yellowing

pages Idty. Some of the isrbjss In an even older hand than his ers bis grandmother's or his aunts' probably and now and than. In bis mother's hand again, the be a comment written tn the "Very choice or "Extra good or "WeU worth trying. The rectpea for these tasty old dishes looked good. Rodney decided to tuck the book In with his own things, a venial theft and put It by some day for hlmsatf and Mary. They certainly did sound sjood. "Old Farrington meat pie." "Hannah Eaxlsa gold and surer cake," everlasting; fruit cake. Tea. ho take it And here waa for soap, and In his mother's hand or bis grandmother's, be could not be sure which, was the quaint msrgfnal note: "Tbe cheapest soap tn the world. Unlucky for dtrt" And so ho pitched the old book into the stolen down the attic stairs again bounded, dusty kit baa; and aU, tots the. little waiting room where Mary sat Dear Xttryt And she had lot him hug first taste of the bliss to come. Hew sweet and wonderful she waa! When ho woke In the UMrntas; he rubbed his eyes a moment In bewilder. ment at his unaccustomed lags. And Immediately the of Mary Grayson swept again, fresh and undimmed. He would call up Mary on the telephone before sbe got away to the office. And, by the way, he had an Idea to teU her too. He waa going to make soap, like his father. Tbe old cook book had given him the Idea. He left his coffee scarcely tasted and flew to a booth at the club. ""Well, Mary," he shouted through the receiver, which smelt of cigarettes, "did you know I'd lost say Job?" "Yes," said Marya rotce at a dis tance. - T suppose I shall too. If I dont give you up." "We should be bawled Rodney at his end. ' "Oh. Rodney, I'm so sorry," said I Mary. ''Nonsense, you've made my future. ; Without you Td never have got the Idea the big Idea." i "Idea for what?" "The Mea to make money out of that's aU you need sod. Just think. I . found It In an old book" "What Mea what book?" "It's a cook book. 5 -What on earth" "WeU, you see, when X ' I stumbled across an old family book. It fell open at a fate was on the Job it was a hunch "But what Is ltr "If s an old family recipe tor mak ing cheap soap. It says It's the est soap la the world. then the nwnufacturers ssako it. Fat going Into the soap "Wbatr "Sure father dldV-loak at the : be made. Why shouldn't I?" "You're Joking." "I'm In dead earnest Fm gotaaT to buck the trust, Ton see, ni have all . the popular sympathy lndsptndeat young son of soap king fights father don't buy from tbe trust." "But Is that very nice to your father?" "Has he been very nice to mot Ifs great! Down with monopoly I Hur rah for the people! I've heard political speeches like that! Hurrah far the people's soap! That Isn't a bad aame either the people's soap!" "But you bavent any capital." "I never thought of that." "You'd need a lot of money too.' "Well," Rodney said. "weU. In Just have to get it. that's all, and you'll be my secretary." "Rodney, you must stop talking or you'll go stony broke with this long calir yelled Mary. "Well, when can I see you again?" Rodney persisted. "I shall be at tbe office tin 3." Mary. "IH drop In. Father may bo with the gout" Rodney answered. Rodney bung np tbe. receiver and turned away reluctantly. Mary's voice wasn't it the most wonderful voice in the world? He took out a cigarette and lit It, finding a quiet seat near the Forty-fourth street window to sit down and think things over. He armed himself with a newspaper, so that he could occasionally hold it up and ward off unwelcome chatterers who might disturb his train of thought Tbe armament was not modern enough, however, to repel tbe attack of the alert young man who presently came and peered over tbe top of his paper. "Well. Ambrose Peale," said Rodney, looking up. "That's me absolutely," said Mr. Peale. "The same at your service. 8o you remember me, eh?" The sight of Peale's keen and eager face took Rodney back two years at a Jump. The two boys bad met one night in the lobby of a Boston theater. Tbe occasion had been an egg fight, not between Rodney and Ambrose Peale. but between tbe audience and (be stage. It bad been a very Mrely and savory affair indeed, outte efSdently carried through by the college students scattered out la front. ' To Be Continued. Great quantities of Oregon spruce have been shipped abroad to make aeroplanes for tbe Warring; nations. The price of the wood baa accordingly jumped from $33 to $40 a thousand fe- .

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