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OJ-QlOlOIOIOtOIOIOlOtOlO K> 2 %Y i: ?Tj 2 % C?/5 OJ? oU ?So; 23y Qovoih Oj> ~|* 'Author of ' Gcorgic," "j _|v-> C < ?Cnpjjri-jht. HQS. hyj. P.. L7PPIXC0 O To I O iolo lOlOIOIOlOiO.iOlO CHAPTER VI. 8 x Continued. Mr. Groves' manly face darkened; and then he smiled a little. "I can't take no orders from you, sir, I'm afraid. Xo one but Mr. Grimes is in hauthority over me. William was doin' very well where he was. Them young birds in Cherry Gully wants a deal of watching. "William's as good as a minder of the chicks as ever I had. 'E's more good at that than leading an active life, is William." Mr. Bromsgrove sighed. "I explained to you." he began, "the reason I had?" '"Let young folks enjoy themselves," said Mr. Groves, pleasantly twinkling. "Live and lot live. I only wish I was twenty-two again, with a young woman a-waitin' at the stile for me! We're getting no younger, Mr. Bromsgrove. sir, you and me. Youth is the springtime of life, I heard you remark from the pulpit on Sunday, and I says to my wife when I went home to my dinner, 4 'Ow true!' I says. And she smiled at me so unexpected?we having had a cold dinner?that it fair softened my heart to all them young tnings as we see about us, sparrers, and lambs, afcid calves, as well as the kittens by the fireside. And I've mado up my , mind to let William a-be." "Ah!" said Mr. Bromsgrove sadly. "Is that Indeed so? I shall be writing to tho Earl next week. I am afraid, Groves, that if you disoblige one in this way?" "Little Miss Green 'ull perhaps say a word for me, tco," Mr. Groves remarked innocently, dropping his gun and leaning on it with an amiable smile. "Little Miss Green! Do I understand that that young person has been influencing you to set aside my wishes, then?" "Well, she did drop an 'int that she was interested in the young woman's 'appinesc." he murmured. "Groves," said the vicar sharply, "that young person will get into trouble. She will get you into trouble. She?I feel sure?she is not by any means what she pretends to be." "She 'inted at that, too," Mr. Groves said: then evidently regretted the admission. "A fine, free, well-1 set-up young lady she is," he said ! firmly. "And I'm now going home to my tea. sir, if you please. Gocd afternoon.". Mr. Bromsgrove walked quickly on, lis anger rising. So this girl was setting him at defiance and interfering with him. She was undermining the character of the Earl's faithful servants, was she? Well, she should see in time?she should certainly see. But he strolled sadly along the Malindcr road, plunged in deep thought, with his eyes on the ground, and he ma<4e a mental addition to his black list. So sad he was, so dispirited and disheartened, that ho didn't hear a light, quick step behind him, and i when a sweet, fresh, girlish voice broke upon his gloomy ear it made him start. "I am glad," said Audrey with a pretty blush, turning to him a face as sweet, and sweeter, than the June afternoon. "I'm going to take a litJ tie pudding from mother to poor old Miss Greebs 'n Lavender Lane." "A pudding?" Mr. Bromsgrove playfully lifted the basket-lid. "Delicious! I should like to steal it. Did you?but of course you didn't make it yourself?" "Oh, but I did," said Audrey modestly. "I feel somehow as if it is only a snanow pretense ot cnarity to take things to the poor that are made by cook, and I told mother so. 'Dearest,' I said to her only half-anhour. ago, 'even If it Is a little too solid, it was made with so many loving good wishes that I really think I ought to take It.' Don't you think so, Mr. Eromsgrove?" "Certainly," cried he warmly. "The spirit?the spirit is everything.. The will is better, far better, than the deed." "Oh!" Audrey turned her seablue eyes upon him trustfully. "How wonderfully clear you make all these 5 puzzling questions! You seem to turn night into day, you do really. I said to mother: 'Dearest, doesn't Mr. Eromsgrove turn night into day?' And : father said he hoped not, and that he supposed I meant that you turned light into darkness, and I told him that I meant that as well, but mother said, 'Oh, yes.'" "I am going to visit this poor creature myself," Mr. Eromsgrove said softly. "It is my habit to drop in and say a few cheery words, quite I secular very often, from time to time. I should like to carry the basket with 'Ais wonderful pudding if you will allow me to." Audrey turned a surprised and crateful look unon him. "Oh, will you?" she said. "It will make all the difference if you will. I'm rather xnizzy to-dav, I am afraid. You will find me very dull company. But you know, don't you, that when one is unhappy, one cannot always tall: cheerfully, however hard one tries to hide one's misery?" ?.Ir. Bromcgrovc straightened his tack and pulled himself together. He was beginning already to feel himself a new man. "Misery?" he said, inclining his head to meet her troubled gaze. "Unhappy? You?" "Oh. yes," said Audrey sorrowful ly: I am tne most unnappy girl in the world." "Tell me," said Mr. Bromsgrove gently, and indeed he -wanted to know. "Oil,!" Audrey caught her breath as she spclie. "It Isn't a thing one 1 ? i ^ HBNHH lOtOIOIOtOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOlO ? ?>fjp F/G ip >ein& Green if ? jp o o ca Dcakin, ?j? r/jc TJ'is/j i??/ King," Etc. i*b 77 C03IPAZ". All richi* referred. ? "> V ?' ? ?* ? ? ?? ?" <> ? ->?> ?;_ i o i o i o i o i o i dTo i c i oi'oid ioTo can talk about. But you?you are different. And to keep it hidden away eats into my heart and nearly kills me. Somehow I always feel that I can't talk about it. But you will understand. Oh, I know you will understand perfectly." "Tell mo," said Mr. Bromsgrove again. "I am sure I shall understand." CHAPTER VII. ' Tormentilla's new peace had deserted her again. Even in doing good to others she found no comfort now, but she meant to go through with her scheme for saving Audrey, of course, and she wasn't going to let the vicar break poor Minnie's heart. She was in love with love?even the miseries of it?and she took all lovers to her heart and cherished them. She t longed to help Audrey and Michael. I and even young Mrs. Standring? ! even Lise should come under her I ~ i P Ti./Mil/I ixriiot o nUv 4 + ** OJIV nuuiu. " "?? ? J'* *V was that she didn't agree with her husband! Tormentilla couldn't at first see any possible way of helping her, but she would look out, and the time would surely come. Lise fascinated her. It is true that she couldn't quite understand or approve of the callousness she had shown about poor Audrey, but she did not despair yet of getting her to help with the great scheme. She called one afternoon to lay further siege, and it was a great blow to find her giving tea to her brotherin-law, that curious Mr. Nigel. Lise was curled up in her usual corner, but she sprang up when Tormentilla j was announce a ana greeted ner affectionately. She told her afterwards it was as if all the windows had been suddenly opened to a north wind. . Tormentilla wasn't quite sure, when she thought it over, whether to take this as a compliment or not. The little, white-facecl vegetarian was eating some of his favorite biscuit. and drinking milk and water. "I have been telling Mrs. Standring." he remarked pleasantly, "that she has spoiled this cool green room with all those red roses. A few Madonna lilies, dear lady, or a pot of Spanish?net the German ones; they ( are too flamboyant. Tied roses are? well, they are net for nous autres." "I love red roses!" Tormentilla cried in amazement. "They're my . favorite flower." "Youth, vandal 3'outh," cried Mr. Nigel pleasantly. "Red roses and . waltz music and chocolate creams. They, come together, and together . they go. Red rcsec, dear child, may , be pleasing to the untutored eye, but they arc not art." Lise opened her mouth to speak, , then shut it suddenly. "Dear la-.ly," said her brother-in- , law. I-Ie walked slowly up to her, retreated a few steps, then advanced , again. "Do say what you were going to say." . Tormentilla laughed out with child- . ish enjoyment. "I e:cpecc Mrs. Standring was going ' to say that beauty?and art tco?is in ! the eye of the beholder. It's one of Greenie's favorite remarks, and it's , nvtrn cirri imi HI v T tliinlr any flowers would look sweet in the . pretty, soft spring wood kind of color ( o? this room. Crass is green, isn't it, 1 and leaves and things? The flowers SO with them all right." "No, no." Mr. Nigel tiptoed round Lise's tea-table, daintily picking a j strawberry and dipping it into the j crcam in his plate before he made a , sandwich of it. "Nature is crude, , vulgar; you will see these thin?s in a clearer light some day. Lise, I will, j if I may, go and find Jack. I didn't know he was at home, but I just ( caught a glimpse of him in the garden." Lise laughed wh6n he had gone. "We don't quite sympathize with his views. Jack and I," she explained. ] "We dined with him. the other night. ] He has a lovely house, you know, i with hardly any furniture in it, and ; the kind of chairs that nv ...e you < wonder why they are there. I never j felt so much inclined to sit on the < floor in my life. And the dinner! < He's a vegetarian, you see, and my ] husband is always e;tremely hungry, ] and we neiihcr cf us could got enough to eat. Luckily I'd ordered a good supper, something solid, to be ready for us when we got in. It was a most curious meal, and you can't imagine anything less satisfying. Wc began with stuffed green peppers. They weren't really half bad, and we would both have eaten more of them if we'd only known what was to follow, but there was no menu and we left it all, unfortunately, to Providence. The soup was cream of green corn, but so salt that we couldn't touch it. Nigel has trained himself to eat quantities of salt, to make him live forever, though why any one should wish to do that? Nut cutlets came next, with tomato sauce. They were quite?well, quite interesting, only Jack loathes tomatoes and always has from a child, and I think Nigel might have remembered it. We grew desperate, and we made so much too much of the braised bananas in our hunger and despair, that we felt quite ill all the evening and have neither of us been the same since. But one had to eat something." "Mr. Nigel Standring is very pale ) in^ lrlv-1 nrtlrinr ennsirioriri?T hf)\V < beautifully simple his life is," Tor- \ mentilla said in wondering tones. j Lise laughed. ] "lie came to talk about Audrey," ( she said. He means to marry her, you know. Though why he should want to marry such a little doll?" \ "J don't think she's a doll," Tor- < mentilla said slowly. "I've known ( dolls myself, and I can see the differ- i ence. A doll doesn't feel. Audrey ] feels things most intensely. She I often says so." ' "Yes?" Lise smiled incredulously. "And that is why she i; so wretchedly unhappy now." "I'm not sure that she would wish to be anything else. I've known Audrey longer than you have, ^nd I'm r.ot sure that she doecn't rcv?_. in her own misery." Tormer.tilla war, rilsr.t. She .iidn't [ like the sneer with which Lise spoke. I She didn't understand how any person who pretended to be a friend ol the poor sirl could be so callous. Her tender heart was stung rather cruelly. r Lise, generally so careless of the r effect of her words, looked up and felt almost sorry. "My dear, don't think that I am a ( hard-hearted brute. I used to be fond of Audrey, too?rather too fond perhaps. And I wept with her ovei * her troubles last year as copiously ci a friend should. Eut?well, you"! 1 see for yourself some day. I'm nof 3 trninc to noison your mind airains! her." "Of course I can see that she'? rather silly," Tormentilla answereO slowly. "But 3he's so pretty and so kind, and at present I'm rather anxious to help some one to be happy It seems a pity that everything should go wrong for want of a helping hand," she finished wistfully. "How do you mer.n to help them?" "I have begun," the girl answered eagerly. "I've put in the thin end o! the wedge. I've taken them separately and tried to buck them up." "To what?" Lis* asked curiously. She rose, shook out the soft folds cl her pretty yellow dress, and crossed to the window to stand looking out on the garden with her hands behind her. "To take their fate in their owa hands." Lise turned her head quickly. "My good child, what?" "To elope, of course." "Elope!" "Yes," said Tormentilla ilrmly. " * - 1 ? ? t-v? rnmiini ilS iUILg US 1Ji* vu5 >t ucci obdurate, nothing else can be done. Audrey hasn't a penny of her own?" "Audrey, then, has been painting her father as the stern parent?" . Tormentilla stared at her. "Oh, well," LIse said sharply, "never mind that. And Michael? Does he jump at the Gretna Green suggestion?" Tormentilla looked doubtful. "Well, no, he didn't exactly jump al it," she replied. "In fact, he scervn to have grown faint-hearted with thi:long opposition. Poor young man. you can't wonder, can you?" "I suppose not." Lise was rearranging some o? the despised, red roses. "What did he say when you put the question?" "Oh, he seemed to see all the dialculties in a most unloverjjke way. Pie really was terribly crushed and unenchusiastic." "He^fras, was he?" murmured Lise. with a doubtful face. "And what did you say to him to ciccr him up?" "I said a good many thines," Tormcntilla replied frankly. "I knew ] Impressed him, and I think I mud have bucked him up a good deal more than he would admit." "It must have been a most thrilling interview." Lise's head was stili turned away. I wish I'd been there. You think they are in love with cacb Dlher, those two?" Tormentilla had no doubt aboul t lb fit. i "Oh. deeply!" cried she. "Why, j the attachment has lasted for more j Lhan three years. It's undermining c Audrey's very e::isccnce. She has told 1 me so con-tantly. And Mr. Keh- ^ worthy has long .been in such a state of mind that it has been quite impos- j Bible for him to settle down steadily to any work. 1 think." she added wistfully, "that it's rather beautiful ^ to see two young people forgetting j tiie wnoie worm in tuun iu?e iui Dther, don't you?" Lisc didn't laugh. "You think, then," she went on in low. deliberate tones, "that Audrey is the kind of girl to consider the svorld well lost for love, and all that :ort of thin??" "Indeed I do. And I respect hex for it more than I can say." Lisc was touched by the girl's enthusiasm. To be Continued. Milton's Natural History. The pigeons that found nesting places in St. Paul's Cathedral were probably the only cpecies of bird with which Milton was familiar in his early rears?unless we make an exception af the ubiquitous sparrow. He went in his seventeenth year to Cambridge, tvhere he marie acquaintance with the sedgy fiats of the Cam and took as much intercut in birds and flowers, oeasts and trees as his greater interest at that age in literature and philosophy would permit. Cut for him the most accurately observant period of life for nature study was over?the period of from z 2ight to sixteen years of age?and he ' :herefore fell into mistakes in his use 1 A imagery and description of natural 1 3bjects. He strews, for example, the = laureate hearse of Lycidas with flow- 1 ?rs that are not all in bloom at the ? same season; he gives the lark's nest 1 thatched rooi and he calls the honjysuckle eglantine.?From the Scotsman. f Cure for Neuralgia and Rheumatism. Some French doctors claim that a ivet clay, yellow mud poultice having i good deal of cheap ground pitchblende in it is a pretty sure cure for j neuralgia and rheumatism. These loctors claim to have proved that j :his simple method stops at once the ( pain, the congestion and the various i weaknesses which go with rheuma- . .ism.?New York Press. Opponents of the use of concrete j ;or floors in factories contend that the stonelike surface is injurious to r lie feet and backs of workmen, and 1 .hat dust ground from the concrete rinds its way into and injures the ma- ( :liine bearings. t To give some idea or the extent of the incandescent lamp industry in :his country it is noted that during the year 1907 the General Electric < Company 'disposed of 32,000,000 1 amps. 1 t 000Q0300Q00000QQ00QCC00Q00C R.ainbo' By Tempi oooooocoooococooooooooooooo Copyright. igio, by As3d The dimness of the big drawing ( oom was slightly lessened by the < rlow of the light through the perfo ations of the samovar. Evelyn Her- 1 ick was pouring the tea. 1 "I had a letter from Christine this ' nornlng," she said as she handed a :up to Bruce McKenzie. ' "What did she say?" he asked, ea- j jerly. "Wait until these people go," she nurmured, "and then I will read It to j -'Oil." It was an hour before the crowd ] rielted away, and even then they were lot alone, for Philip Herrick lounged ; >n the couch in the corner. Evelyn ] ead the ^?te in an undertone. , ] "I am coming home, Evelyn. After . ill these years of study my voice is a ] allure. Do you remember tha" 1 used o say that I would find my pot of | fold at the end of the rainbow, and < 3ruce would tell me that no one ever eally found rainbow gold? All these 1 rears I have been seeking a thing that lid not exist, and you have stayed at i lome and have found happiness. I j >ften think of you and Bruce and of , he friendship that has grown up be- i ;ween you. Something you said in rour last letter makes me feel that ?ou two are about to enter upon a < learer relationship than friendship, j ind I wish you happiness, I who have \ nlssed happiness in my search for ] ainbow gold." ] Bruce and Evelyn looked at each 5 >ther. "You see, she knows," 'Evelyn i said at last. From out of the shadows Philip Her- i Ick asked. "Has she lost her voice?" , "Yes," Evelyn told him, "hei* beauiful voice; and she gave up every- , hing for it." ( She did not saj\ however; what was ( n the thoughts of each one of the ; ^ I ; 4', - J 3hilip Sank Down on the Fur Rug in Front of Her. hrec as they sat in the dim room, rhey hail all loved Christine, and she lad been engaged to Bruce; but feeing the cal! of her genius, she had :hosen a career rather than marriage. Vnd now Evelyn and Bruce were engaged and Christine was coming back. Behind the samovar Evelyn whls)ered to her lover, "I am afraid." "Of what?" he demanded. "That when she comes back you vill find that you have not forgotten? ler." He shook his head. "She did not ove me, and now f know that I did lot love her?not in the way that I ove you, Evelyn." Their voices after that sank into a 1 nurmured monotone. The darkness 1 gathered, and the man on the couch, j ooking through the parted curtains, 11 :ould see the stars. He thought of ] he girl who was coming back. When ; ihe had gone away she had been radl- , int with hope and beauty. She had )een courted by a dozen admirers, ^nd she was coming back a failure; , coming back to find her lover ready to narry another woman. j His heart ached for her as it had ] lever ached for himself. His own , ove had been hidden that she might , lot be hurt by seeing it, but through all ( he years there had been for him no ^ ither woman. j And even as he thought of her she ( :ame, parting the curtains softly and itandlng there in the dimness before , my of them saw her. She laughed a little as she came ' oward them, and they Jumped to heir feet in startled amazement. "You didn't expect me so soon?" she : isked, and kissed Evelyn and gave ' ler hands to Bruce and to Philip. She iad lost some of her beauty. She was )aler and thinner, and the light was rone from her eyes. She gave a little j ired sigh as she dropped into the 1 The Beauty yi~ \lo Oi:her Flower Has Ever Been Con- ] sidered as Welcome or as n Franranf. -a' ( From Chaucer to Alfred Austin the English poets have labored untiringly ind on small wages to advertise the i jeauty of the rose and Its appeal to ] ;be tender sentiments. No other i lower has ever been considered as ' 'soft" ns the rose, or as "welcome," 1 )r even as "fragrant.." Shakespeare, < jropfcunJlng the question of. what's 1 n a name, takes for his example: i Chat which we call a rose ^ -Jy an other uatnu would smell as sweet. ] Even this immortal, it would seem, ;ould think of nothing sweeter! Milion, in "Paradise Lost," speaks of A smile lh.it slowed Celestial rosy red. love's proper hue. i ^ In the opinion of Burns the rose ;vas "unrivaled." And when he seeks :he highest compliment that he can 1 ?ay to cne of those several bounie < OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCCXXXXXX)! w Gold e Bailey ooooooocooooocoocxpooooooo" dated Literary Press :hair that Philip had piaced In front 3f the fire for her. "How good It seems to be with you ill again," she said, "the threo dear people with whom I played as a :hlld." Presently she went on, "And now, Evelyn Is going to marry Bruce, which is as it should be. I have come beck to give you my blessing." The word was said lightly, but Philip, watching her, saw the trouble In her face. Did she still love Bruce? Would this marriage make her still more unhappy? "When I went away," she said after a silence, "1 thought that my return would be a triumphal entry. Everyone would want to hear me sing?and now no one will care to iiear me." Philip sank down on the fur rug in front of her. "Is it all gone, your ^oice?" he asked softly. "I still have a little voice." she said, 'but no one cares to hear It." And again there was silence. There was constraint, too, In the atmosphere, for Bruce and Evelyn had grown Into each other's lives and away from Christine's. Only in Philip's heart was the real welcome that she craved. She felt this instinctively and It was her need of him, perhaps, th&t made her ask later, when the four had talked of many things, "Will you ride back to the hotel with me, Philip? I know Evelyn had a dinner engagement and Bruoe will want to say good-by to her without us." Philip Insisted upon a stop at a tearoom. where they ordered Ices as an excuse but ate nothing. They talked of Bruce and of Evelyn and of the coming marriage. "Evelyn chose the better part," Christine said. "A woman is only a woman after all, and home-keeping hearts are happiest." ? He felt that she regretted the loss of Briice, and tried to comfort her. "I don't believe that you' would have been happy with him, Christine,"' he said. , She looked at him startled. "With whom?" she demanded. "With Bruce, of course," he said. "OhI" she laughed a little.' "Did you think?why, Philip, I am glad I re T V_ J T giiv? up JDiuee. 11 i ijuu luvt-u unu & could not have given him up. If I had loved him no career could have taken me away from him, and that was why [ went away to search for my pot of gold." She stopped for a moment; then she went on with some hesitation: "There was some one else that [ loved. Philip, but I was not light enough or frivolous enough to turn from one man to another. I felt that I must give up Bruce and test myself?but the other man never told me, Philip, that he cared." Something In her voice made him look at her startled. "Would you have given up your ca reer for that other man?" he demanded. / "Yes." she said softly. "I would have been glad to have used my voice for love songs and lullabys, Philip. 1 knew that I was following a phantom, that my greatest happiness would not :ome from a career. But I felt that I must go away?because this other man was true to his friend, and bemuse I felt that I must be very sure Df myself." "I could not tell you. You under-, stand?" he asked eagerly. "I did not Jream that you cared, and I thought Pnmo'a Ufa woo "hniTn/1 nn In vnti " "I knew It wasn't," she said. "But that had to be proved, and only my joing away could prove it. And I -am more than glad that I went away, Philip, because I have learned now that love Is the greatest thing In the world. I saw so many women over there living their pitiful little lives? women eaten up by jealousies and ambitions and the craving for excitement, ind I learned that nothing makes a woman happy but love and a home A.11 the modern theories, all the ad vanced arguments can never make ne believe anything else." And then he knew that all his waiting was to have its reward. He told tier, then, of his dreams and of his lesires. He wanted her in his life. II seemed to them both, as they wenl jut, that the world had changed; there was a radiance about the star lighted evening that was a reflection Df the radiance within themselves. As he left her at her hotel, Christine whispered, "I have found my pot ol jold, Philip." "Where?" he demanded. "At the other end of the rainbow,'' she said. "At the end that was near dsl home, Philip." Canada's Wood Pulp Exports. v^anauii s UAi/urm ui puip wuuu u L890 amounted to only $168,180. Ir L908 they had Increased to 5-1,037,852 of the Rose [assies whom he loved with all hli leart, he sings: my love's like a red, red rose, rhat's newly sprung in June. The word "rosy" has come to b( synonymous for bright and beautiful Even "rose colored" signifies fai more than the mere line. It means 'very fine or pleasing; alluring," as (veil. (See Webster.) June, perhaps awes Its ejviable reputation amonj :he poets n;t entirely to the circum :tance that It happens to be the firsi month of jeal summer, but largel] to the fact that it Is a mcnth o, roses.?Collar's. Mitpladed Affection. "Has this town a favorite son?" "It used ti? have, but he turned oui o be a son-c f-a-gun." The more jf.oney a man makes th< ess his wlffc spends?if he's a bacb ;lor. .. . ; ; BEST MODELS STAY GIRLS MUST WAIT UNTIL OCTOBER FOR NEW STYLES. Scarcely a Dress Now Being Mada That Is Not Intended for Late Autumn Wear?Thin Stuffs Used. It Is pretty safe to assume that there -will be no absolutely new fashIons until October, so that the prettiest styles now offered for girls may be employed until then with perfect safety. In fact, there Is scarcely a dress now being made that Is not intended for quite late autumn use, all the fashionable leaning toward thin stuffs and pale tones ^making this feasible. "All of the best models now In UBe," said a leading dressmaker, "will, be carried over for girls, with such changes of a slight order as the present trend seems to indicate. And without a doubt such changes will include the narrowing of skirts. Fundamentally, the cut of frocks is the same as in the spring with this single exception?the skirt is growing dally closer in cffect, if not actually narrowPRETTY TEA CUP PIN-CUSHION Charming Little Japanese China Ornaments That Specially Lend Themselves to Making of Pin Cushions. Among those charming little Japanese china ornaments?tea cups, sugar basins, vases, etc., there are many that specially lend themselves to the making or pretty nttie pincushions, and they may be easily transformed Into an article of this 1 kind by merely filling them with cot- i ton-wool and covering them in the ] upper part with velvet. In our sketch may be seen a quaint i little Japanese double-handled cup j 1 treated in this manner. The color of i 1 the velvet used for the cushion should ' i TAKE BEAUTY BAG ALONG J When Far From the Base of Supplies ( the Toilet Articles Will Be I Priceless. i "Whatever you decide to leave behind when you go traveling," says the woman who always contrives to look ... . . i wnen on tne roaa as u sue naa lasnii < her maid and hsr favorite hairdresser 1 along with her, "don't leave your beau- 1 ty bag. A small leather handbag will 1 hold everything you need In the way < of creams, powders, soft bits of linen ' and your own particular brand of i soap; but when you rre far from your < base of supplies the contents of that < bag will bo priceless. Then, having I carefully stocked the beauty bag and 1 taken it along, don't be so intent on ? sightseeing that you forget to use It. I When you leave the train make a bee- c line for jour hotel bedroom. f "Take off your traveling dress and j ? don a kimono. Take down your hair j t and pull clown tne 0!;nas. kud some cold cream Into your skin and lie down. Then after a brief period of h repose turn to the beauty bag again, i ry : - - /I . 8 1 ?*?*>?<*** j er. Sometimes it is made by the cat,! H which is so done as to give a drawn-lnj look about the ankles. Again therot- ^ will be very flat plaits stitched to ! closely-fitting hip-yoke which come?j- * i| far below the hips, still again there: are hip shirrings or nds put below j j the knees to keep the skirt breadths! flat, these devices permitting morel ease in walking than the narrow cutaj allow. But so far I have avoided thO| use of any exaggerated style for] misses.-as the very narrow frock* aro; |a extremely odd looking, and anything j that attracts attention is not the be?tj j taste for a young gi'1 At present! moiu 19 a Byeuicu UCILJUU IUI uucvi models?the coat style for stout llnensj and serges, the tunic one for more '3 elegant materials and some little gathered models that would be suitable for V. muslins, thin mercerized cottons, etc." For the coat suit, which Is so importar ': a feature of the miss' ward- > robe, there are beautiful double-width linens in the smart coarse weaves go- .> <*' lng at 50 cents a yard. Five yards will make a dress for a girl sixteen years old, the coat coming something below the hips and the skirt a plain gored model. The dress, then, II . *' :& made at home, buttons and furnish- ' ings excepted, would cost only two dollars and a half. For the tunic dreg*, [1 there Is nothing prettier than voile 'I or marquisette, and without a doubt N3 such textiles will be worn in the house' - ^ all winter long. Our Illustration shows the coatlgown approved by fashion and good} -i sense. The skirt adopts some of the> > growing scantiiess, but It is still wide! J# enough for easy movement and good taste. The single-breasted coat faster.* ?j with three buttons, and has the plain \'d back smartness demands, for the mo- % ment a coat has a middle seam-at the \back It cannot possibly have a new , For this dress linen, pongee or rajah silk would be excellent material for the present moment?deep blue Upen, oyster white pongee or beige * rajah, for the correct tone of either M white or tan is a matter of importance.; So when buying remember that a : cream white is not quite so stylish as -y one which has a grayish tone and that any shade of tan is more effective if it is not too yellow. A gray linen V; would be Immensely smart for the. -V' % dresa, this without any tinge of slate color, however, for the fashionable gray is rather on the tone of the ' summer sky at noonday?it is very pale, dellciously cool looking and very ";:;5 becoming. . ? A Toilet Novelty. * A small silver novelty that makee a useful gift for a traveler?especially in summer?is a flat, plain sliver case to hold the books of powder paper. The case is double, clasping like a card case, and Is made with an inner rim, beneath which the powder book covers are slipped. Marked with a monogram on one side and date on the other, such a case makes a useful engagement1 present; unmarked it is suitable for a prize. be carefully chosen to harmonize with the,, color of the china, and It may be fastened in Its place just inside the edge of the cup with a little secco-' : > Apart fmn: the ordinary usefulness of a little pincushion of this nature. these Utile Japanese cups and saucers always make dainty ornaments, and look wonderfully pretty upon a dressing table. . Smart little bows ol ribbon tied round the handles would go still further to make this article dec- - ; oratlve, and the saucer forms a useful receptacle for hair-pins, buttons and those little odds and ends that have such a habit of accumulating upon a dressing-table. For sale in a bazaar, too, these pin- > cushions should prove most attractive;, and they are easily and quickly pre. pared and very Inexpensive to make. i When Turning a Hem. When turning a hem or measuring a skirt to straighten it at the bottom, a dressmaker of my acquaintance saves herself time and nervous strain by marking the place she wants on the tape measure with a small paper clip?one of the kinds that "stay put,*" rhen she does not have to search out tier desired mark every time she puts a pin in the skirt, but feels automatically for the clip. In turning a three-inch hem, for instance, she will put the clip at three, and for all practical purposes lave with her a three-inch tape neasure. and, having made whatever use of it may be necessary, don fresh clothing md emerge. You will hardly appear :o be the same person as the weary traveler who slipprd from the train in hour before." \ 1* Small Sunshades. As hat brims grow wider sunshades jecome smaller. This is noticeably he case with young girls' parasols of vbite, brown, pale pink or blue linen, vith hemstitched or embroidered borlers and directoire bandies; of plain laffetas mounted upon bamboo polshed to simulate old ivory, and of :hiffon frilled white lace on shallow, jblong frames of silvered metal. instVioa cm^llnr than thoca VlClU J iUVtivw V,UU/entional sunshades are the satin, itlk or lace covered marquise carriage jarascls, which have folding handles if mother of pearl, and those which orm a fan when only partially furle^ md close so compactly that they may >e swung from the wrist. The chantecler pump has a high leel and decorative narrow toe. It is musually arched.