The Syracuse Journal, Volume 16, Number 26, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 25 October 1923 — Page 2

(The Cortlandts of Washington Square

Copyright by The BobbsMemll Co.

"KISSyME AGAIN, ANNIE, DO!"

The man managed to lift his head. "Don't you fret," he murmured. "It’s an o’d wound. I’m just out of hospital. Then he dropped again and lay, limp and white, on the basement floor. Ann cut away his blood-soaked trousers leg. She found that the bleeding came from a gash above the knee, which was only half healed, and had, obviously, reopened; it was a comparatively simple matter for her to stop the bleeding, and to dress the wound with towels torn into strips. Sfye routed old Joseph from the cellar, u here, on regaining his safety, he had taken refuge, and the old man and .the women managed to carry the limp body of Anns rescuer upstairs to the guest room. IVAen 4nn bent over him she found something hauntingly familiar in his lean face, bearded only sparsely, and well below the cheekbones; she thought she might have seen him in a hospital somewhere. She gave him a tablespoonful of whisky and in a moment he opened his eyes and looked at her. He smiled and his .lips parted. She bent to hear, impersonally, as she had done so often in the hospitals. "Annie Byrne," the young man murmured, pleased. And then. "Kiss me again, Annie, do!" So meet again in New York, Ann Byrne and Peter Smith, who haven't leen each other lince the day* of a boy-and-firl kit* in Milton Center. Ann i* now one of “The Cortlandt* of Washington Square" and Peter i* a machinist with a little shop in Chicago. It’s Civil war time* and Peter ha* just rescued Ann and an old negro servant from the hand* of a mob in the New York draft riot*. Ann. red-headed and individual, ba* already been engaged twice. Peter is too am* bitiou* and hard-working to bother with love. This is the first novel by Janet A. (Mr*. Kellogg) Fairbank of Chirago, nationally known from her activities in politics, war work and women's affair*. It’* already *ucce**ful and ha* never before been serialised. New York, in the Fifties and Sixties, i* it* setting. Those were Civil war time* and quite exciting they were. The author ha* written a story vivid with the spirit of the times. It is from the northern viewpoint, but not controversial in spirit. Ann. when a child in Milton Center, went skating in her best jacket and fell through the ice. But it was no fun skating, said Ann, unless you skated on thin ice. So that's why Ann, originally an Ugly Duckling, has many adventuress and exciting experience* after she grow* goodlooking and ba* social position through her relationship with the Cortlandts. Mr*. Fairbank come* honestly by brains, being the daughter of the late Benjamin F. Ayer, one of Chicago's old-time brilliant lawyer*. ' She ha* done feature-writing for Chicago newipaper* and is the author of a play, “Three .Year* More." *oon to be produced, in 1912 she was Western Chairman for Women of tbe Progressive party: joined the Democratic party in 1917 and was a member of the Executive committee of the Democratic National committee. Always deeply interested in Chicago city government, she was, in 1921, chairman of •the Women's committee in the successful coalition judicial campaign. She is a member of the National Congressional committee of the Democratic party and vice chairman for Illinois of tbe Woodrow Wilson Foundation. She is president of the board of director* of the Chicago Lying-In hospital. During tbe war she was member of the Women's Executive committee, Illinois branch. Council of Defense. She was appointed by Mr. McAdoo < member of the Women's National Liberty Loan committee with headquarter* in the Treasury building, Washington. She helped organise the women of the country in five loan* and during the time was in all but five state*, organizing and speaking.

CHAPTER I Newa. A Httle girl of ten years was clear- j r • the *"'•» fnlu • ,e:M, ' n 3 ,o tfw side o< * farmhouse so small that it barely emerged from Its ’ brilliant setting. It* walln. a relied white. poked out of the drifts with an air of innocent’dlareputabllity. i and lh» hmy "Oof dipped deep into the ■ s..Ud snow. -he child did not pause until she reached the gate; then she j straightened her slim back Ci|»erlmen tally, and breathed deep of the treaty sir. With a wide sweep of her mil--n-d hand she cleared the top rail <»f its incumbrance of snow, and swung herself up to perch there. She sat a funny, bunched little figure in n tight i kct. and a full and too short skirt which betrayed to a censorious world ,«■< i [-..ordinarily knobby long tecs. She « ,s a red hatred child, with an eager wedge of n face that took no color the keen wind oft the New York hilhj against the pallor of her cheeks ier lips showed brilliantly red. and l.er>yes doomed deep and ceremonl -jr/ above an impudent n.>>e. On the whole. »be looked rather a difficult little girl; the old gate creaked, pro jestingly. A lean little boy. whose red storkIngs and rap mnde a brilliant splash of color tn the white landscape, came whistling down the read. The little girl paid no attention to hint and when he reached the gate he paused with elalmrate casnalness to scoop up a handful of snow. | “Mnd?" he Inquired—"you hadn’t aught to be I You wanted me to kiss you.” ■'They are always doing ft in books. 1 wanted to see what It was like." “It-wasn’t ray fault. I didn't want to—much." “You don't need to. again.” The boy colored resentfully. “A girl with red hair." he scoffed. There was a pause, while the old gate wriggled in it# bed of snow. “Your mother coming borne today?” “Yep." “You’ll catch it for going through the Ice." •I expect so. . . . I had on my best Jacket." ■The ice la always thin over the spring. Didn’t you know that?" The girl laughed. “What d’you think 1 was doing there, silly? It’s no fun skating where It’s thick!" The boy looked at her with reluctant admiration. "You're a queer 'un." he remarked, as he kicked up a cloud of soft white snow. There seemed to be nothing to detain him. yet be lingered. and turned, on a sudden Impulse. "Say." he said, “is it true that your mother Is going to marry the The g<rt'» calm eye* kindled. “Who wavs re?" site demanded, j -Ma." “Well. Peter—-yon ean tell her that oh* doesn't know nothing—not nothing! That minister—tie’s so ugly*and my mother!” The boy hesitated no longer but went on bls way with an air of braggart relief. He bad made a bard ball

of his handful of snow. *nd how at* I Hung it. He to»k up his whtsNe again, nnd his frosted breath rose in n series of gay clouds above hi- red cap, while behind him Ann drooped <>n her gate She hate<l the sanctimonious minister and his dreary black clothes, b'b- wondered what she might do if her mother decided on this undesirable step, nnd dimly she per ceived (fiat she could do nothing; the fearful impotence of childho d weighed her down, and her queer little face clouded. After a while the sound of sleigbbells floated across the frozen fields to her, nnd she brightened. They heralded her mother's return from New York city, n good seventy miles away, nnd she fixed eager eyes or. the turn in the road; tn n moment old General and the cutter rounded the big bare elm which overhung the - schoolboose at the four corners, and Ann leapt from the j>ercii. transfigured by excitement. “Ma Is craning ’’ she screamed -hrilly over her shoulder. “Ma is coming !" The bouse door o[H*ned nnd a tall spare woman appeared. “Ma s here, Mrs. Allen—look r Mrs. Alien emerged and came down Ann’s path, wrapped like a mummy in a dull-colored shawl. "It I* high time she enme." she «aM. “And she'll be cold—driving all the way over from Whartley townsidp on a day, like this.” Ann silently reviewed the past fortnight. and gloomily reflected thut if cold her mother would probably be cross. Tbe little girl shot a soft glance at her ct rnpanion. ingratiation In every line of her; she hoped an account of her misdeeds would not immediately be offered —it was extraordinary how many things could go wrong in two weeks —but she had ‘ small exi>ectation of anything so de- < | sirs Me happening. And then, suddenly, she realized that the woman in the approaching sleigh bad something foreign about her. Her pretty face, with Its cheeks whipped a bright rev? by the cold wind, was the same, but ‘.here was a sort of flowing opulence in her appointments which made her seem alien. Ann thought that her mother had never looked so beautiful; her pale hair shone richly gold against n coat of black fur. Before she could spring to meet her. Mrs. Allen grasped her shoulder so hard that it hurt; as Ann wriggled free she caught an aghast I murmur. i “My land—a sealskin sack!” Suddenly affection for the pretty • creature in the sleigh overcame Ann. t and she plunged eagerly out Into tbe ( deep snow of the road, calling, unexpectedly to herself: “Ma! You’d > never marry that old minister! Say, ma—-would you?" N Her mother iaagbed, a gay thrill C that brought two dimples Into play, - and showed a flash of white teeth. - “No. Ann, never!” she called back, withdrawing her hand from a tiny t muff siie carried, in order to ware it - w’y1 The cutter drew up before the

cleared path, and Ann's mother stepped lightly out upon the firm snow that creaked under her feet She leaned forward over her flowing skirts and kissed her daughter daintily; suddenly her radiant face clouded "My. Ann.” she exclaimed, “you look homelier than ever.” p And she sighed fretfully as she stood looking at her. Mrs. Allen intervened. "Minnie Bynte.” she began sternly, "where did you got those clothes?" And cntcblng sight of a necklace of seed pearls that hung lustrously in the opening of the sealskin suck, she paused, speechless "It's nil right." the newcomer declared breathlessly. "You don't know what has happened to me.” Mrs. Allen continued to gaze at her with a severity which Anu suddenly tealized partly masked a disquieting fright. "Considering that you went to th<- city to see about Investing the. last two thousand dollars you had in the world, nnd have come hack here “You Look Homelier Than Ever” all tricked out like this—l should say that you had lost your wits. Minnie Byrne." “Well. 1 haven't . . . I’ve a good part of the two thousand, though.' "1 thought as much.’ Mrs. Allen observed. “And that Isn’t all,” the newcomer hurried <>‘n; “I've done something worse than that. . . . I've been married This declaration was received tn startled silence. Ann. strangled with an emotion that was half terror nnd half affection, yet somehow wholly protective, clung to her mother’s nervous hand, while Mrs. Allen stared at her. white-faced. Feeling the disapproval of her audience. the bride dung up a spirited head “You are all ready to blame me, aren't you?" she demanded. "Well—you wait until you hear whom I've married.” “1 hope yon have married someone who < .ii <are for you, Minnie, in a worldly way. ns well as spiritually." “I’ve married Hudson Cortlandt." she said, and laughed. / Even Ann knew this wsfe a name to i conjure with, and MjUffd wide eyed at her mother. MrsyA#ieh. leaped at : a (hosible explanation. V'Sefteeone has been Imposing on youshe cried “No. It t« true. . . . Why fchouldn't he marry me?" V—J They went into the farm-house kitchen, frigid in spite or the tropical heal of the wood lire tliat leuped in rhe stove, and the cross-examination : continued. * “How did von get to know him?" Mrs. Cortlandt blushed. "Well." she said, “the first afternoon I was in New York 1 was walking in Union square.

OXC'X-S-X->X<>X-C-X<-X'>X<-X->X<-X<‘X<>X-

Woman’s Doll Baines Famous

Russian Artist Creates Caricature Toys That Have Achieved Remarkable Popularity. Where are the dulls of yesterday? Relegated to limbo with turkey-trot. ’ the fourteen points, the custard-pie i movie and a host of other things that could not stand the pace of our cubislic age- T** firs! ,hreut 10 tbe exist-, ence of tl»e oid-tustnoned dull catne when Rose O'Neill iuiroouced the kew- ! pie Then arrived an army of more realistic dolls in imitation of the cbaricters m vuriuu* uursery tales. and in the last few years the vogue ut the dull bus been steadily advancing. It ls no longer u mere toy. but the prod- > uct of artistic conception and tine craftsmanship. One of the most Imoortaul figure* ,n «“* new develop-, mem is Mme Marie Vassilieff. a ttu> si tn painter, who. lives in the Paris. Latin quarter. She has devoted herbelf to the creation of both caricature and character portrait dolls. Some years ago Marie Vassilieff was riving lessons in drawing to a little rirjf m Moscow. Tbe child had many dells of the old style which were not pretty. Mme. Vassilieff. as a eort 01 kme. made one with her own hands to suit the child. The artist found it to her own taste as well as that of her pupil. She then made others and placed them on exhibition. Three of the first dolla are tn the collection of the Moroxov Museum of Decorative Art at Moscow. A little later Mme. Vassilieff organixed an exhibition of modem art at Moscow. Her first portrait doll made its appearance them.

THE SYRACUSE

and I saw • fine gentleman ahead of me drop a wallet Os course 1 picked It up, and there was his name—Hudson Cortlandt ... 1 had just read In the papers that President Pierce had appointed him minister to Switzerland, and I wanted to see bow he looked. ... 1 was glad 1 was the one to find It I ran after him —and that was the beginning." “What did he think of you. so free as that?” Mrs. Cortlandt dimpled sweetly. “Well, he thought I was pretty," she said daringly. “And after he had thanked me. he walked on with me. and usked me my name, and if my husband were in New York, and 1 told him that Michael was dead, and then he took me back to the St. Nicholas hotel. He stayed to talk with me for a while. In the pnrlor. . . . When he went away he usked me to go driving with him the next afternoon, and almost every day after thut he took me somewhere, and ten days later we were married!” “It will tie a change for you. Minnie—and for Ann." Suddenly Mrs. Cortiandt’s round blue eyes tilled with miserable tears “That is the worst Qf it!" she declared. 'Tie doesn t know about Ann." “What do you mean —be doesn't know ?" “Well, I didn’t happen to mention her at first—and after —when *1 saw he fancied me—l thought I wouldn’t tell him just then, and it was always like that. ... I was afraid." she ended in a miserable whisper. “And what do you Intend to do now ?" “I shall take Ann back with me. and he’ll see her. . .. . He’ll have to. . . . We are sailing for Europe next week." Ann leaped to her feet, transfigured hut her mother looked at her resentfully. “Don’t jump about. Anri. ' she said hnjMitiently. and added, turning to Mrs. Allen: “If only she were pretty!” And so It happened that the ducking of Ann’s best coat in the mill pond became an unimportant event, and it was not necessary for her to explain to tin Uncomprehending parent the allurement of skimming lightly over the surface of thin ice. CHAPTER II T ransplanted. The delight of her first ride In a train speedily crowded the sorrow of parting from Ann’s mind. She sat straight nnd taut on the hard seat beside her mother, her lips compressed, her eyes blazing Mrs. Cortlandt left tier al,'tie. except that now and then she tried, the effect of poking her unfortunate hair this way or thut. or twitched her clothes in a fretful effort to change the .look of the child’s eager, staring face. To Ann. used only to the tranquil lity of a sleepy village, the confusion at the terminal was amazing The haste with which people left the car gave her a sense of calamity, the keener because It wa* unexplained. A ferry-boat! Occasional copies of Harper’s Illustrated Weekly had reached Milton ('enter, and Ann was prepared for tbe extraordinary! look of these maritime monsters, but no wood cut could have prepared her for the sickening ami delightful feeling of uncertainty under her feel. Site seized her mother's arm appealingly. In an ecstasy of excitement, and the pnllid lady satd absently. “Yes—horrid, isn t it?" Ann abandoned her and wormed through the group of people at the bow. Ahead of them the shore sloped swiftly back from the water-front; and in the foretrronnd the high steeple of a church shepherded a huddled collection of buildings Ann had never known that a city could be like that—miles of it. overwhelming and Intriguing. Suddenly the portentous ferry-house swallowed them up. Ann shrank hack from the Jarring grind of the landing, convinced that no mere boat could stami,sneh treatment! The crowd swelled forward, and her mother reclaimed her rehuklnsty. Outside the ferry-house they paused, aghast. Not wishing to break the news of Ann’s existence to her husband on the ferrydock. Mrs. Cortlttmh had not notified him of the hour of her r rival, and for al! her fitshiomit.lr clothes, she was almost as dazed by the city’s confusion as Ann. who frankly gaped, and adored it. The Knickerbocker stage was wait-

an effigy of the Russian painter Tat- ’ I in. Formerly one sat for miniatures. ! large oil portraits or cold marble* busts; now one leaves to posterity a . doll made by an anlst who is both pointer and sculptor. As the creator: jof these new dolls says: “My poupees are not children s 1 pHythings: they rather represent us after we have been the playthings of ; life.While many artists have been making dolls of various sorts for grownup folk, none of them haa approached M.trie VasiHeff » s the caricaturist.; > She works in a great variety ot mate-, rials, always trying to suit the texture Ito the personality. Her dolls always can be recognized.: they are not to be mistaken among hundreds ot others — j Arthur Muss in Arts and Decoration. Scrubbing Money. Uncle Sam saves thousands every year by washing dirty greenbacks and re-issuing them. The process is very simple. The bills are washed with soap, scrubbed, rinsed In cold water, and ironed. The actual washing is done by a mechanical contrivance consisting of sets of rollers, in the first place the dirty bills are placed In a series of copper rollers which revolve In a special kind of soap. The continual rolling backwards and forwards makes the paper clean. The bills are then put between rollers running In dean water. In the last process rhe damp bills are placed In a set of heated rollers, which do the ironing and turn out the bills “starched and i w.n«H «

►URNAL

ing as they came from the narrow tunnel of the ferry-house. The four big horses that drew It pranced tn tbe trodden snow, and the bells on their necks glistened In the sunlight Mrs Cortlandt and Ann climbed in and seated themselves on the long bench that ran down the side of the coach. Beside her, her mother sat trembling visibly; It was evident to the most casual beholder that Mrs. Hudson Cortlandt was badly frightened. At length they started, with a Jingling of bells and a plunging of horses that made the people on the street turn to watch them glide past. Ann her face to the window, now and then Impatiently wiping away the cloud of her breath on the glass. Everything she saw enchanted her; even the bare ailantns trees seemed a better thing. In-their novelty, than the towering elms she had known. Washington square was her mother’s destination, for here, on the fringe of the town, the Cortlandts and a few other leading families had recently built themselves new houses. The place was Inclosed with a high iron fence, which gave the little park an air of gentility. Ann looked with darkening eyes nt the ample, dignified houses, rose pink against the snow. “Does my new father live here?” she denuiuded. A lonely feeling made her voice break, Suddenly she realized for the first time the threat of a strange relationship. Iler mother nodded. “Ills brother do«s.” she said. "Mr. Hendricks Cortlandt. Your—ray—Mr. Hudson Cortlandt Ilves with him.” It was the largest of the houses that she timidly approached, and. clinging tremulously to Ann. summoned cotir age to climb the wide steps, and pull a silver bell handle mysteriously sei beside the glass door. A black man came to admit them, and Ann looked ut him gapingly. unable, in her sur prise, to return his gleaming smile He was the first negro she had se> n Mrs. Cortlandt paused. “Is Mr. Hendricks Cortlahdt at home?" she asked and her voice trembled. “Yas’m. He is in de library.” With a dexterous turn, the man shut the front door behind them, and opened one on rhe right-hand side of the wide hall. Ann had a quick impression of a lofty room, all lined with books — she had never dreamed that there could be so many—and of the late afternoon sun coming through the win dows in long yellow streaks so that a fire under a narrow marble mantel glowed red. Then she saw a tall, old ish man rise from his chair and come forward Immediately she liked him. in spite of her breathless nervousness "Well, my dear." Ann heard him say. "back again?" And then his eyes fell on her. He looked at her in kindly perplexity. “And who is this young lady?" he asked. The little girl glanced expectantly nt her mother, but no sound came from her white lips, so she said, as cheerfully as she could: “Fant Ann." and. catching no gleam of Intelligence in his attentive eyes, she added. “Ann Byrne, you know." Mr. Cortlandt continued tn look at her blankly. Slowly a realization of who she might be dawned on him. and he turned his steady gaze on his sister-iu-luw. as she trembled before him. "Your clilld?" he inquired coldly. Mrs. Cortlandt sank into a chair; she was manifestly struggling with tears. "Yes.” she admitted briefly. “A child! But my brother said von had no family. . . . Does be know, madam ?" As her mother was now frankly crying. Ann took up the burden of their sorry tale. “She didn’t tell him," she confided. “I am a surprise, and it is too bad I am not pretty." The head of the house of Cortlandt straightened up scornfully. “Ah.” he said. “I see.” Therej was an uncomfortable silence in the library: it was broken by Ann, who volunteered cheerfully. “She has to tell my new father, now, all about me.” Mrs. Cortlandt looked up to nod a miserable assent to this announcement. “It might have been —less embarHnn™ She Blinked, Bewildered. • rassing. If you had done so—earlier. He was insane about you.” t “1 was afraid." “I see. We shall have to tell film, however.. Is this the only one. madam?'’ "Oh. yes.” Mrs. Cortlandt said. In shocked surprise, “of course, if there had been more I should have told him!” “Let me look at yon, young lady." He put a gentle band under Ann’s shan> chin, and turned her face toward him. “She has never looked like me,” ! her mother mourned. “She is like her • father, in every way.” "This makes tbe man Important What was your first husband?" “He ran a newspaper—Just a country one. He always expected to do better, but then he died." Ann wriggled away from the stranger's improprietory touch. “My father was Irish," she volunteered, “and he was very clever, and be had red hair, like me!”

Machree got into trouble In Fenian riots—l never knew Just what he did—but he had to leave Ireland. . . . We were only married a few years . . . He was always getting into trouble, and be never would listen to what I told him. . . . What dp you think Hudson will do?’ “There Is only one way to answer that," Mr. Cortlandt said simply. He crossed the room with long determined strides to summon the man In the halt “Tell Mr. Hudson his wife is here," . he dfreeted. Mr. Cortlandt turned to Ann. “We have only Just finished supper," he said. “Suppose you and Igo and see “if there is any left.” The child glanced Irresolutely at her mother. Ann wanted to stay with her, but suddenly she realized that she was devastatingly hungry. Her mother caught her eye. “Go with him. Ann. for mercy sakes!” she urged irritably. Mr. Cortlandt laughed, for some unexplained. grown-up reason, and led her away through folding-doors into what seemed, indubitably, fairyland. Her first impression was of a great glare of light; it was like noonday in the big empty room, and she blinked, bewildered. Directly under an overpowering brass chandelier was a square table covered with a cloth so white that It glistened like snow; this. then, was the dining-room. Irr Milton Center one sewed, read, and sometimes slept In such an apartment, but this one seemed scared to the business of dining. She looked about her with avid curiosity. “What Is It?” Ann demanded breathlessly, pointing to the fixture from whence the glory sprang. “The chandelier?” Mr. Cortlandt inquired. bewildered in his turn. “No. the light. It isn't candles —it isn't paraflin. it —" “Oh. that! ... It is gas." “Oh!” She recalled weary hours filling lamps. “Do you put it tn like oil?" “No. . . . I'll tell you about it. hut first we must have supper. Are .von hungry?” Ann gasped. It was extraordinary, but the enormous appetite which had ravaged her but a moment before was gone. “1 —don't know.” she confessed. Mr. Cortlandt drew a chair out for her and. pulling a Kell coni, he sum- ; tnoned the black man and told hitn to bring food. “You didn't have gas in—er —Milton Center?” be suggested. Ant. shook her head; her eyes were swimming with fears, and met Mr. Cortlnndt’s miserably. Suddenly he pulled his chair closer to hers, and began to talk to her. rapidly and continuously: at first she was so occupied in fighting down her inconvenient emotion that she paid' little attention, but presently she understood that he was. with extraordinary kindness, telling her all about gas. She began to listen attentively. She forgot all about the delicious things she was eating as the tale ran on; she was more Interested than she had ever been before in all her life. After that they began to talk ot Milton Center, and shp spoke of Mrs Allen casually. “You lived with her?" Mr. Cortlandt leaned forward. “Yes. . . . Isn't your brother a Christian F‘ Mr. Cortleadt sat back suddenly. “1 hope so," he said. "Why do you ask?” “Weil, Mrs. Allen took ma and me to live with her because she was a Christian.” Ann explained. “She often said so. . . . She said she hoped she was laying up treasures in heaven. And I hope so. too.” “Your mother had no money at all?” j “Oh, yes. ma bad two thousand dol- . tnrs. That is a great amount of money. Mrs. Allen always said It tvas a sacred trust —that was when ma wanted to spend it, you see.” “Yes, I see. And what did you do in Milton Center. Miss Ann?” “I went to school. 1 don’t like my readier —not much. And of course 1 did chores—feeding t,he chickens, an’ helping get supper, an’ washing up." This was dear and familiar ground, and -on chatted pleasantly on. Her • heart wanned toward Mr. Cortlandt tn reward for his kindly interest; and she ■ oured out unstintingly the simple story of her life and her mother's. It was a good half-hour before she thought of returning to the library. As Mr Cortlandt slid back the fold-ing-door, tire sound of a man’s voice, harsh and angry, burst in on them. “My new father?’ Ann demanded, frowning. / Her friend nodded, and site peered into t>e room under bis arm. A tall man / was striding fcriously about “It Isn’t that 1 resent the child.” be was storming. “It is tbe deceit I csbnot forgive. The child, of course, la a responsibility—l am not a man to shirk that —but I hate deceit!” He turned, as his brother opened the door. “Do you know what she has done?" he demanded. Mr. Hendricks Cortlandt nodded, and held Ann back, as she would have pushed indignantly past him. “There’s only one. you know, Hudson,’’ he said imcifically- “Tber* might just as well have been six.” His brother paused, arrested. “Six?’ he repeated. Tbe word had the force of an explosion The older man laughed, and Ann wondered why. “Os course,” he said, “it would have made no difference had there been, since it Is the deceit that you resent, and not the children.” “Minute.” her busband roared at her. frantic appeal in his voice, "are there others?” Tbe bride was so over- : cotne by his violence that she merely » shook her, head speechlessly, but Ann 1 flung off her friend’s restraining hand and burst into the room. She con- • fronted her stepfather fiercely; her j bands were clenched into little fists. 1 “Don’t you dare speak to my mother like that I” she said. • Hudson Cortlandt glared at her, r eye to eye; then he swung away, and appealed to tbe world at large. “Is . this the child my wife asks me to take • to my bosom? This red-beaded, - gawky girl? Ibis spitfire?’ ) “Mr*. Allen can't havn yon. r I want you myself." 8 L___ ’ 1 (To SB CONTINUBP4

IWRIGLEYS

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