Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 38, No. 137, Ed. 1 Saturday, May 4, 1918 Page: 4 of 14
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SATURDAY, MAY 4, 1318.
FOUR
Poetry and Persiflage
ra
IN
of it,
by
OTHER HEROES.
Frederick Orin Bartlett
and
salt
swept
with
“But,
Say, what sort of a
/
A
SANCTUM SIFTINGS
“Dilly
You’d better look
yard liskriend
David Cory
“Guns are dangerous things for boys,
You can't play with them like toys.
Nor have you the slightest right
To fill us little folks with fright.
Get your hoe and go to work.
You lazy boy who loves to shirk."
ter to permit ninety-nine guilty to go
unpunished than that one innocent per-
son should be made to suffer.
But
full
Bit
came
Member of the Associated Press.
The Associated Press is exclusively entitled to
the use for republication of all news dispatches
credited to it or not otherwise credited in this
paper, and also the local news published herein.
back to him; and in the midst
quite the central figure, stood
must be out by now.
them over.”
“Closing prices of
have you been all day?”
“Downtown,” he answered. "I’m with
Carter, Rand & Seagraves now.”
Don,"
world
Because of the shortage of brown
cane sugar, the quantity of pure .maple
syrup is going to be very much cur- -
tailed.
Print makes George Horton, United
States consul at Salonica, say: “Good
English Speaking.
She—Wat’s de English-speakin’ peo-
ples, Chimmy?
He—Us an dem Chonny Bulls, you
mutt!—Judge.
WEST INDIA DOCK ROAD.
Black man, white man, brown man, yel-
low man,
All the lousy Orient loafing on the
quay!
Hindu, Dago, Jap, Malay, and Chinaman
Dipping into London from the great
green sea!
Wanted It Now.
“So you’re a bill collector, eh?” “Yes,
sir.” “Do you believe in a hereafter?”
“I certainly do, but I’m not going to
wait until then to collect this bill.”—
Detroit Free Press.
To Old Nic.
0 Nicotine, how rapturous are
A dinner—and a good cigar;
Or sheltered in a pillowed nook,
A pipe and some romantic book;
Or if you’re with a wise soubrette,
A Turkish straw-tipped cigarette.
—Orange Peel.
Three miles straight lies lily clad Bel-
gravia,
Thin lipped ladies and padded men
and pale;
Eastern Offices.
New York Office, 341 Fifth Ave.
D. J. Randall.
Chicago, St. Louis and Detroit Offices,
The S. C. Beckwith Agency.
Black man, white man, brown man, yel-
low man,
Pennyfields and Poplar and China-
town for me!
Stately moving cutthroats and many
colored mysteries;
Never were such things for London
days to see!
Copyright, 1916, by Frederick Orin Bartlett, All Rights Reserved.
Printed by Permission of, and by Special Arrangement With,
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY.
Member American Newspaper Publishers’ Ass’n, Southern Newspaper Publishers’
Ass’n, and Audit Bureau of Circulations.
So the Laramie Kid mused in the sun
Where old Fort Riley sprawls, .
And he hummed for just a minute, or so
Between two bugle calls.
There wasn’t much music to the song,
But the words he sang went thus: '
“Till No Man’s Land Is Somebody’s,
And Somebody’s Us!”
—Contributed anonymously from Camp
Funston in Laramie Republican.'
The Laramie Kid comes from a land
Orations bring him grief—
But he said it all when he said them
words
About our part in the fuss:
“Till No Man’s Land Is Somebody’s,
And Somebody Is Us!”
Where speech is somewhat brief,
cowpuncher ain’t much on talk—
Almighty vengeance sternly waits to
roll
Rivers of sulphur o’er your trait’rous
soul;
Nature looks down, with conscious er-
ror sad
On such tarnished blot that she hath
made.
Let Hell receive you, riveted in chains,
Doomed to the hottest focus of its
flames.
Farnsworth to
vard?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Princeton.
Successful.
She—“You were always a faultfind-
er.”
He—“Yes, I found you.”
say you were Har-
German prisoners taken by our troops
are reported to say that they only want
the Americans to let them alone. But
that is exactly what our boys went
over to France not to do.-—Baltimore
American.
Three Cheers!
Shortly .after the war started a
brand-new officer of a Yorkshire bat-
talion was called upon to respond for
his corps at a complimentary dinner.
He said: “Gentlemen, on behalf of
my comrades, I can assure you that
should a German army land at Scar-
borough, the Ditto-Ditto Rifles will not
be the last to flee.”—London Opinion.
minutes before dinner, Frances
down the stairs.
“I’m glad you could come,
she said. “But where in the
soup can be made of dishwater and
table refuse.” Let us hope the consul
really said “soap.”
He made the announcement
considerable pride.
“Poor Don!” she murmured.
WALL STREET
GIRL
“And Somebody Is Us."
The Laramie Kid sat down at ease,
And a visitor, who passed,
Turned back and said: “My friend, how
long
Will this here big war last?"-
And Laramie Kid looked up and said—
He is short-spoke cuss—
“Till No Man’s Land is Somebody’s,
And Somebody Is Us!”
Then get you down to Limehouse, by
rigging, wharf and smokestack,
Glamour, dirt, and perfume, and
dusky men and gold;
For down in lurking Limehouse there’s
the blue moon of the Orient,
Lamps for young Aladdins and bow-
ies for the bold!
—Thomas Burke in "London Lamps.”
But here areturbaned princes
velvet glancing gentlemen,
Tomtom and shark knife and
caked sail.
%
Think of the Risk!
Maid (giving notice to leave)—“You
see, mum, I can earn twice as much
making munitions.” Mistress—“Now,
Ellen, don’t be foolish. Just think of
the risks; peace may break out at
any moment, now!"—Passing Show.
if you’re going to do that sort of
thing, I suppose you might as well
be with them as any one. I wonder
it that Seagraves is Dolly Seagraves’
father.”
For a second he was disappointed
—he had expected more enthusiasm
from her.
“I haven’t, met the families of the
firm yet,” he answered.
“I thought you knew Dolly. I’ll ask
her up for my next afternoon, to meet
you.”
“But I can’t come in the afternoon,
Frances.”
“How stupid! You’re to be ‘down-
town all day?”
“From nine to three or later.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to like that.”
“Then you’ll have to speak to Farns-
worth,” he laughed.
“Farnsworth?”
“He’s the manager.” .
“I imagine he’s very disagreeable.
Oh, Don, please hurry and make your
fortune and have it over with!”
“You ought to give me "more than
one day, anyhow.”
“I'll give you till June,” she smiled.
“I really got sort of homesick for you
today, Don.”
“Honest?”
“Honest,’ Don. I've no business to
tell you such a secret, but it’s true.”
"I’m glad you told me,” he answer-
ed soberly. “What have you been do-
ing all day?"
by bit. the events of yesterday
what?” he in-
In Revolutionary Times.
Disloyalty is no new thing. They had
it back in the days of the American
revolution. Here is what a patriotic
poet of those times had to say about
Benedict Arnold in an acrostic:
The lamp still burns arid those who
have overlooked dr neglected getting
into the liberty bond class of American
citizens still have opportunity for mak-
ing good on thrift and war savings
stamps. While these stamps are sup-
posed to be for those who are unable
to get into the larger class, there is
no reason why the millionaire should
not have a part in this scheme of rev-
enue raising. Galveston county has
done nobly with the third loan propo-
sition, but this should be only an in-
centive to make a like record with the
stamps.
Be Practical.
“The American eagle-----” began
the grandiloquent man. “Never mind
the eagle now,” interrupted Senator
Sorghum. “Let’s talk about flying ma-
chines.”---Washington Star.
Mr. Hayden, of Hayden & Wiggles-+
worth,” he requested.
Farnsworth returned to his office,
leaving Don staring helplessly at the
package in his hands.
“For Heaven’s sake, get busy!” ex-
claimed Miss Winthrop.
“But where can I find Mr. Hayden?”
inquired Don.
“Get out of the office and look up
the firm in a directory,” she returned
sharply. “But hustle out of here just
as if you did know.”
Don seized his hat and obeyed. He
found himself on the street, quite as
ignorant of where to find a directory
as he was of where to find Mr. Hay-
Now you remember in the last story
that Uncle Lucky was dreadfully puz-
zled over what old Prof. Crow had just
read out of his little black book. And
while the old gentleman rabbit was
scratching his ear and trying to think
just what it really meant, something
happened, all of a sudden, just like
that. Yes, sir. That’s the way things
happen. And what it was I’ll tell you
if the Miller’s Boy doesn’t fire off his
gun before I get a chance, for there
stood the Miller’s Boy not ten feet
away. Well, man, and well, sir. That
old black crow shut up his book so
quickly that he almost fell out of the
tree, and the little rabbits hopped out
of the Luckymobile head over tail and
hid in a hollow stump. And then the
Miller s Boy began to laugh, and he
laughed so hard that he dropped his
gun on a stone and broke it all to
smithereens. Wasn’t that a shame? I
mean, wasn’t that lucky for the two
little rabbits and the old crow?
“Gosh all hemlocks,” said the Miller’s
Boy. “Now I’ve gone and done it,” and
he picked up the broken gun and look-
ed dreadfully angry, for he knew his
father would give him Hail Columbia
and may be something worse when he
got home.
And then away off in the Friendly
Forest old Prof. Crow began to sing,
and you know what an awful sound a
crow makes when he tries to sing:
On the evil twilight, rose and star and
silver,
Steals a song that long ago in Singa-
pore they sang;
Fragrant of spices, of incense and
opium,
Cinnamon and aconite, the betel and
the bhang.
den, of Hayden & Wigglesworth,
in rounding a corner—still at
Very Candid.
“Mr. Photographer, which view of
me do you think would be most pleas-
ing?.
“Madam, if you would not take of-
fense-----”
“Not in the least.”
“Then I should say-a-er back view,
Madam.”—Pearson’s Weekly.
As much smoke indicates the pres-
ence of fire, so would all the talk about
the American aircraft program indicate
that there was some reason for the
statements being made that this de-
partment is away behind in its, promise
to furnish aerial craft by the time the
nation was ready to use them on the
battlefront. It is to be hoped that the
charges may not prove as bad as in-
timated, but if this branch is holding
back more aggressive action by the
American army, then an investigation
or whatever else would remedy the
trouble is well timed. Let American
aviators be supplied with American air-
planes.
If any doubt has heretofore existed
as to the earnestness of the United
States in the prosecution of the war
against Prussianism, the trend of mat-
ters as indicated in the national law-
making body ought to be convincing
that this country is going to see the
affair through. The most recent prop-
osition to place in the hands of the
president the power to raise an army
without limit as to the number of men
is quite likely to be adopted, and the
mere suggestion of the idea is indica-
tive of the temper of the men who are
guilding the affairs of state. The na-
tion is fast catching step with the
march of events across the ocean and
each day brings into action just that
much more of the manpower and the
resources of the American republic.
I guess the old crow was reading out
of his little black book, don’t you? And
when that bad Miller’s Boy heard that
wise little piece of poetry his face
grew as red as a ripe tomato, and he
turned away and went back to the Qld
Mill and got out his hoe and went to
work in the potato patch. So you see
that little black book of Prof. Crow’s
did a lot of good. And after that the
two little rabbits hopped into the
Luckymobile and rode away as fast as
they could go.
“Well, well, well,” said Uncle Lucky,-
after they had gone for maybe a mile
or three, “Prof. Crow saved us a lot of
trouble and maybe something worse!”
And I’d like to know if there’s any-
thing much worse than trouble, al-
though I’ve had so much I’m getting
used to it, like flies and mosquitoes
and the crying baby upstairs and the
bills on the first of the month.
And in the next story you shall hear
- some more about these two little rab-
bits, for Robbie Redbreast told me
something just now that you must hear
as soon as I can write it down for the
printerman.
GISSADYOTIANT DATES By Carrier or Mail, Postage Prepaid, Per
SUBSCRIPTION RAILS Week, iocs Per Month, 45c; Per Year, $5.
Thought Moses Had Phone.
“When did Moses live?” asked the
teacher.
The class was silent so the teacher
said: “Open your books and read the
page about Moses. What did it say
there?”
After a pause a boy replied: “It says
Moses, 4000 B. C.”
“Then why didn’t you know when
Moses lived?” demanded the teacher.
“Well, sir,” said the boy, “I thought
that was his telephone number!".
An investigation has revealed the fact
that some of the shipbuilders who re-
cently struck were receiving eighteen
dollars a day. They objected to the
bosses keeping after them to "speed
up." That’s natural, they wanted that,
sort of a job to last a long time.
back, strangely enough, to the white-
tiled restaurant in the alley. He smiled
as he contrived a possible title for a
popular song of this same nature. “The
’White-Tiled Restaurant in the Alley”
it might read, and it might have
something to do with “Sally.” Per-
haps Miss Winthrop’s first name was
Sally—it fitted her well enough. She
had been funny about that chocolate
eclair. And she had lent him two dol-
lars. Unusual incident, that! He won-
dered where she was’ tonight—where
she went after she left the office at
night. Perhaps she was here. He
leaned forward to look at the faces
of people in the audience. Then the
singing stopped, and a group of Ja-
panese acrobats occupied the stage.
Frances turned, suppressing a yawn.
“I suppose one of them will hang
by his teeth in a minute,” she observ-
ed. “I wish he wouldn’t. It makes me
ache.”
“It is always possible to leave,” he
suggested.
“But Mother so enjoys the pictures.”
“Then, by all means, let’s stay.”
“They always put them at the end.
Oh, dear me, I don’t think I shall ever
come a gain.”
“I enjoyed the singing,” he confess-
ed. .
“Oh, Don, it was horrible!”
“Still, that song about the restau-
rant in the alley—”
“The what?” she exclaimed.
“Wasn’t it that or was it apple
blossoms? Anyhow, it was good.”
“Of course there’s no great differ-
ence between restaurants in alleys and
GALVESTOK TRIBUNE.
apple blossoms in Normandy!” she
commented.
“Not so much as you'd think,” he
smiled.
It was eleven before they were back
at the house. Then Stuyvesant want-
ed a rarebit and Frances made it, so
that it was after one before Don reach-
his own home.
Not until Nora, in obedience to a
note he had left downstairs for her,
called him at seven-thirty the next
morning did Don realize he had kept
rather late hours for a businessman.
Knew His Place.
She—Won’t you sit down?
The Other One—Nothing doing! I’ve
a standing invitation here.—-Jack-’o-
Lantern.
If the war lasts much longer the Ger-
mans will be shooting bronze statues
and church bells at their enemies. A
recent report states that an inventory
is being made of both with a view of
utilizing such as can be spared
for military purposes. If straws indi-
cate the direction of the wind, this in-
cident may be accepted as showing to
what desperate straits Germany is be-
ing put to keep up her bombardment
of the allied lines, and the moment she
lets up on that bombardment will mean
the arrival of the deluge.
Born for a curse of all mankind,
Earth’s realms can never show so black
a mind.
Night’s sable veil your crimes shall
never hide,
Each one so great ‘twould glut historic
tide.
Defunct, your memory shall live
In all the glare that infamy can give.
Curses of ages shall attend your name,
Traitors alone shall glory in your
fame.
CRITICISES AMERICAN MOVIES.
El Paso Times.
According to John F. Jewell, consul at
Lourenco Marques, East Africa, the lo-
cal newspaper recently criticised
American motion-picture films shown
in that town. One was condemned on
the ground that it would lead foreign
audiences to believe that in the United
States it was a common thing for ex-
convicts to become chiefs.of police. An-
other was characterized as a “rank and
evil-smelling illustration of American
justice and as being “either a blot or a
libel.” This film “misrepresented the
uniform high sense of justice which is
characteristic of the American people,
its bars and its judiciary,” reports the
consul. And he adds: “In China in 1915
it was found necessary to cut short a
film which was about to close with a
representation of American Indians
burning a white man at the stake as
a measure of justice. It is now admit-
ted that a mixed audience, composed
of many races, such as may be found in
African ports, will not have its respect
for American justice and faii- play in-
creased by film illustrations of inordi-
nate brutality and ‘third-degree,’ as if
it were a common practice.”
The authors and purveyors of these
films may not specially appreciate the
attitude of these audiences over the
seas, but the American people will. To
have a reputation for justice and fair
play in China and Africa is something
worth while.
“Believe me,” she said, “they are not
going to pay you for sitting there and
watching me.”
Don felt the color spring to his
cheeks.
“I beg your pardon,” he apologized.
“It doesn’t bother me any, she con-
tinued, as she rose. “Only there isn’t
any money for the firm in that sort of
thing.”
“But there doesn’t seem to be any-
thing around here for me to do.”
“Then make something," she con-
cluded, as she moved away.
Blake, to whom he had been intro-
duced, was sitting at his desk reading
an early edition of an evening paper.
Spurred on by her admonition, he
strolled over there. Blake glanced up
with a nod.
“How you making it?” he inquired.
“There doesn’t seem to be much for
me to do,” said Don. “Can you sug-
gest anything?”
“Farnsworth will dig up enough for
you later on. I wouldn’t worry about
that.”
“But I don’t know anything about
the game.”
“You’ll pick it up. Did I understand
quired.
“The market, of course. Ask Eddie
—the boy at the ticker. He’ll give you
a sheet.”
So Don went over and asked Eddie,
and was handed a list of closing quo-
tations—which, for all he. was con-
cerned, might have been football sig-
nals. However, he sat down and look-
ed them over, and continued to look
them over until Farnsworth passed
him on his way home.
“You may as well go now,” Farns-
worth said. “You’ll be here at nine to-
morrow.
“Nine tomorrow,” nodded Don.
He returned to Miss Winthrop’s desk.
“He says I may go now,” he re-
ported.
‘‘Then I’d go,” she advised.
“But I—I want to thank you.”
“For Heaven's sake, don’t!” she ex-
ploded. ‘Tm busy.”
“Good-night.”
“Good-night.”
He took, the subway back to the
Grand Central, and walked from there
speed—he ran into a messenger boy.
“Take me to the office of Hayden &
Wigglesworth and there’s a quarter in
it for you," he offered.
“I’m on,” nodded the boy.
The office was less than five min-
utes’ walk away. In another two min-
utes Don had left his package with
Mr. Hayden’s clerk and was back
again in his own office.
“Snappy work,” Miss Winthrop com-
plimented him. “The closing prices
“I had a stupid 'morning at the
tailor’s, and a stupid bridge in the
afternoon at the Martins’. Oh, I lost a
disgraceful lot of money.”
“How much?” he inquired.
She shook her head. “I won’t tell;
but that’s why I told Dad he must
take me to see something cheerful
this evening.”
“Tough luck,” he sympathized.
They went in to dinner. Afterward
the Stuyvesant car took them all to
a vaudeville house, and there, from
the rear of a box, Don watched with
indifferent interest the usual vaude-
ville turns. To tell , the truth, he
would have been better satisfied to
have sat at the piano at home and had
Frances sing to him. There were many
things he had wished to talk over with
her. He had not told her about the
other men he had met, his adventure
on his first business assignment, his
search for a place to lunch, or—Miss
Winthrop. Until that moment he had
not thought of her himself.
A singing team made their appear-
ance and began to sing sentimental
ballads concerned with apple blossoms
in Normandy. Don’s thoughts went
The sinking of the steamship City
of Athens adds another chapter to the
long narrative of men in humble life
who, when the opportunity came,
showed that they possessed the metal
from which heroes are made. It would
appear that whenever the world has
been shocked by the details of some
sea disaster, the blow was softened by
the accompanying story of those who
forgot self and devoted all their en-
ergies to the saving of those who oth-
erwise would have found their graves
at the ocean bottom.
Sometimes the person who enacts the
role of hero in one. of these sea dis-
asters is a millionaire, or a military
officer, or some one the mention of
whose name will conjure up some noted
deed or contribution to the history of
progress as it relates to the nation
from which the individual comes, but
more frequently the hero comes from
some unsuspected source, a member of
the ship’s crew, a steerage passenger
or, as is the case in this most recent
disaster, he came from the engine-
room of the sunken vessel, and is a
negro.
The fact that this man wore a black
skin could not hold back the natural
impulses of the man which for all the
years of his life had been quietly wait-
ing for the coming of the occasion
when his heart would be touched with
that appeal lying just beyond the
borders of the unexplainable, and for-
getful of what danger it might invite
to him, or what hardship it might en-
tail, he did what we are pleased to call
the “manly thing” and unwittingly
wrote his name among those who lowed
their fellow men.
The world is busy today in adding
names to the list of those who have
with unflinching vision, beheld where
man’s inhumanity to man had brought
mourning to many and have offered
to the extent of their lives to right a
wrong, to give to posterity the right
to live in peace and follow unmolested
the pursuit of happiness. So few have
been those who have drawn back from
the opportunity held out for man to
glorify his sex that it would seem the
purpose had been a simultaneous in-
spiration affecting all classes and all
ages, for even those, who, because of
their age, had been denied the privi-
lege of active service have formed one
great company whose purpose is to
lend, aid in every possible way to those
who had offered themselves as willing
sacrifices on the nation’s altar.
But while the eyes of the world have
been steadily fixed upon the red fields
of battle and with good reason, for
here are the greater issues being
fought out, there have been frequent
parenthetical narratives written in the
illumined history, nor have we refused
to stop to read the glowing story, al-
though it may have had no direct
bearing on the great tragedy being
enacted to the accompaniment of thun-
drous dirges and the sobbing of widows
and orphans. Without our being able
to explain why, the heart is quick to
respond to the story of heroic action,
be the actor a soldier on the battle-
front or a negro fireman struggling
against the dark waves for human
life. The same metal is found in either
actor and humanity is quick to recog-
nize its presence.
Nor has humanity exhausted its
store of brave men and women when
mention is made here and there of
some who have been brought face to
face with large opportunity and have
lived true to themselves and their di-
vine promptings. Just as each day
comes with its addition of halo en-
veloped names so may we be assured
that time still has in reserve countless
thousands of others, ready, when the
world calls, to respond, “Here am I.”
The ocean is made the safer because
it has become known that the men who
go down to the sea in ships are but
heroes-in rough disguise. Kings may
touch the shoulder of a kneeling man
and call him a knight, potentates may
decorate with many honors some being
whom they may desire to honor, but it
is reserved to the people the honor of
acclaiming that man hero who willing-
ly, gladly, measures the chances and
offers his own life in a noble effort.
The Same Thirty.
Slogg— “Did you find that as you
grow older your capacity for work in-
creases?”
Clogg—“I hadn’t noticed it; but my
dislike of work certainly increases.”
LOAFERS MUST GO.
Dallas Times-Herald:
We have expressed our belief that
the city should have an antiloafing
ordinance with sharp teeth and a fist
ready to strike. We are glad that
the city has now passed such an ordi-
nance. In normal times the loafer
is a drag on society, a potential men-
ace and sometimes a very real one; for
he who loafs by day sometimes uses
the night to carry out deeds of lawless-
ness. In these abnormal times the loaf-
er is an insult to the country. He is
a reflection on the city wherein he
loafs, for his unmolested presence
shows that this city is not doing its
best to help win the war.
There is a place for every loafer.
If he can’t shoulder a rifle, he can, at
least, be put on a job that will, directly
or indirectly, help the government win
the war. If he just won’t work, will-
ingly, he should be made to work. We
hope that the police department of the
city will be untiring in its effort to
round up every deadbeat in this city
and will also remember that, since the
war began, the definition of a deadbeat
has been considerably enlarged.
The “Knights of Liberty,” as a num-
ber of people have styled themselves,
and who are banded together for the
apparent purpose of trying by mob
law those who they believe to be Ger-
mans or German sympathizers, should
change their name or their method of
procedure. Knights hold the reputa-
tion of being brave and bold in the
cause of right or defense of the op-
pressed. Tarring and feathering a
helpless being does not properly come
under etiher of these classifications.
There are legal ways of punishing ob-
jectionable residents of a community
and until all legal remedies have been
exhausted there exists no excuse for
the sort of action taken by the men
of San Jose, Calo. Mobs have often
punished the innocent and permitted
the guilty to escape and it were bet-
to the club. Here he found a message
from Frances:
Dad sent up a box for the theater
tonight. Will you come to dinner and
go with us?
When Don, after dressing, left his
house for the Stuyvesants’ that eve-
ning, it was with a ■ curious sense of
self-importance. He now had the priv-
ilege of announcing to his friends that
he was in business in New York—in
the banking business—with Carter,
Rand & Seagraves, as a matter of
fact. He walked with a freer stride
and swung his stick with a jauntier
air than he had yesterday.
He was full of this when, a few
Problem of Conduct.
Dolly Travers goes to lunch at a
West End restaurant alone. To her sur-
prise she perceives her brother-in-law,
Tim Molyneux, at another table, lunch-
ing with an unknown and charming
lady. Presently Tim comes over to Dolly
and says, in an embarrassed voice, “I
say, Dolly, I shall be obliged if you
will not mention to Florence that you
saw me today.” Florence is Tim’s wife
and Dolly’s sister. What should Dolly
do?.—British Weekly.
Miss Winthrop. It was as if she were
warning him not to be late. He jump-
ed from bed.
But, even that, it was a quarter
past eight before he came downstairs.
Nora was anxiously waiting for him.
“You did not order breakfast, sir,”
she reminded him.
“Why, that's so,” he admitted.
“Shall I prepare it for you now?”
“Never mind. I haven’t time to wait,
anyway. You see, I must be downtown
at nine. I’m in business, Nora.”
“Yes, sir; but you should eat your
breakfast, sir.”
He shook his head. “I think I’ll try
going without breakfast this week.
Besides, I didn’t send up any provi-
sions.”
Nora appeared uneasy. She did not
wish to be bold, and yet she did not
wish her late master’s son to go down-
town hungry.
“An egg and a bit of toast, sir? I’m
sure the cook could spare that.”
“Out of her own breakfast?”
“I—I beg your pardon, sir,” stam-
mered Nora; “but it’s all part of the
house, isn’t it?”
“No,” he answered firmly. “We must
play the game fair, Nora.”
“And dinner, sir.”
“Dinner? Let’s not worry about that
as early in the morning as this.”
He started to leave, but at the door
turned again.
“If you should want me during the
day, you’ll find me at my office with
Carter, Rand & Seagraves. Better
write that down.”
“I will, sir.”
“Good day, Nora,”′
Don took the subway this morning
in. company with several hundred
thousand others for whom this was as
much a routine part of their daily
life as the putting on of a hat. He
had seen all these people coming and
going often enough before, but never
before had he felt himself as coming
and going with them. Now he was
one of them. He did not resent it. Ir.
fact, he felt a certain excitement about
it. But it was new—alomst foreign.
It was with some difficulty that he
found his way from the station to his
office. This so delayed him that he
was twenty minutes late. Miss Win-
throp, who was hard at work when he
entered, paused a second to glance at
the watch pinned to her dress.
“I’m only twenty minutes late,” he
apologized to her.
“A good many things can happen
around Wall Street in twenty min-
utes,” she answered.
“I guess I’ll,have to leave the house
a little earlier.”
“I’d do something to get here on
time,” she advised. “Out late last
night?”
“Not very. I was in bed a little aft-
er one.”
“I thought so.”
“Why?” .
“You look it.”
She brought the conversation to an
abrupt end by resuming her work.
He wanted to ask her in just what
way he looked it. He felt a bit hollow;
but that was because he hadn’t break-
fasted. His eyes, too, were still a lit-
tle heavy; but that was the result,'
not of getting to bed late, but of get-
ting up too early.
She on the other hand, appeared
fresher than she had yesterday at
noon. Her eyes were "brighter and
there was more color in her cheeks.
Don had never seen much of women
in the forenoon. As far as he was con-
cerned, Frances did not exist before
luncheon. But what experience he had
led him to believe that Miss Winthrop
was an exception-—that most women
continued to freshen toward night and
were at their best at dinner time.
“Mr. Pendleton.” It was Eddie. “Mr.
Farnsworth wants to see you in his
office.”
Farnsworth handed Don a collection
of circulars describing some of the se-
curities the firm was offering.
“Better familiarize yourself with
these,” he said briefly. “If there is
anything in them you don’t understand,
ask one of the other men.” .
That was all. In less than three
minutes Don was back again at Pow-
ers’ desk. He glanced through one of
the circulars, which had to do with a
certain electric company offering gold
bonds at a price to net four and a
half. He read it through once and
then read it through again. It con-,
tained a great many figures—figures
running into the millions, whose ef-
fect was to make twenty-five dol-
lars a week shrink into insignificance.
On the whole, it was decidedly de-
pressing reading—the more so because
he did not understand it.
He wondered what Miss Winthrop
did when she was tired, where she
lived and how she lived, if she played
bridge, if she spent her summers
abroad, who her parents were, whether
she was eighteen or twenty-two or
-three, and if she sang. All of which
had nothing to do with the affairs of
the company that wished to dispose
of its gold bonds at a price to net
four and a half.
At twelve Miss Winthrop rose from
-her machine and sought her hat in
the rear of the, office. At twelve-five
she came back, passed him as if he
had been an empty chair, and went
out the door. At twelve-ten he fol-
lowed. He made his way at once to the
restaurant in the alley. She was not
in the chair she had occupied yester-
day, but further back. Happily, the
chair next to her was empty.
(To Be Continued.)
football team have you this year?”
Don knew football. He had. played
right end on the second team. He also
knew Princeton, and if the informa-
tion he gave Blake about the team
ever went back to New Jersey it did
not do the coaching staff there any
good. However, it furnished a subject
for a pleasant half hour’s conversation.
Then Blake went out, and Don re-
turned to his former place back of
Powers’ desk.
“I’ll bet you didn’t get much,out of
him,” observed Miss Winthrop, with-
out interrupting the click of her ma-
chine.
“He seems rather a decent sort,” an-
swered Don.
“Perhaps he is,” she returned.
"He’s a Princeton man,” Don in-
formed her.
“He’s a Percy A. Blake,” she de-
clared—as if that were a fact of con-
siderable importance.
He waited to see if she was ready
to volunteer any further information,
but apparently she considered this suf-
ficient.
At that point Farnsworth came out
and took a look about the office. His
eyes fell upon Don, and he crossed the
room.
He handed Don a package.
“I wish you would deliver these to
GALVESTON TRIBUNE
=================== ESTABLISHED 1880 =========================
Published Evenings Except Sunday at the Tribune Building.
Entered at the Postoffice in Galveston as Second-Class Mail Matter.
OXI c Business Office and Adv. Dept. 83, Circulation Dept. 1386.
1 ILEIIIVNE Editorial Rooms 4» and 1305, Society Editor 2524.
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Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 38, No. 137, Ed. 1 Saturday, May 4, 1918, newspaper, May 4, 1918; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1603843/m1/4/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Rosenberg Library.