McCormick messenger. (McCormick, S.C.) 1902-current, July 29, 1937, Image 4
✓
t
McCORMICK MESSENGER, McCORMICK, SOUTH CAROLINA Thursday, July 29, 1937
messenger
Published Every Thursday
Established June 5, 1902
EDMOND J. McCRACKEN,
Editor and Owner
Entered at the Post Office at Mc
Cormick, S. C., as mail matter of
the second class.
•CBSCRIPTION RATES:
One Year $1.00
Six Months 75
Three Months -50
Feed Out Pies
For Fall Market
Florence, July 17.—“Hog prices
have already advanced on the large
markets and higher than usual
prices from now until fall are ex
pected, and it would! seem advis
able for farmers to put spring pigs
on full feed as soon as possible in
order to get them on the market
before the fall decline in prices
begins”, says A. L. DuRant, ex
tension livestock specialist. “This
peak in prices in recent years has
been about the last of August or
the first of September, with a
marked drop by October.
“In feeding out these spring pigs
green soybeans will save consid-
' erable grain, and corn and soy
beans may be hogged down to ad
vantage. Fishmeal or a mixture of
one-half fishmeal and cottonseed
meal should be fed along with the
corn”, he advises.
Explaining the basis for his rec
ommendations, DuRant points out
these facts:
The report of the spring pig crop
released as of June 1 shows that
38,799,000 pigs were farrowed this
spring, which is 7.3 per cent less
than the number saved during the
same period of 1936 and, except for
1935, the lowest in many years.
This short pig crop was due to the
short com crop last year, which
caused farmers to breed fewer sows
for spring farrow. This will mean
fewer hogs to market this fall.
With a good com crop in the com
belt this year, a larger than usual
proportion of the gilts will be kept
for breeding purposes, thus further
reducing the number of hogs avail
able for market.
There are usually seasonal
changes in hog prices. Hogs are
cheaper in the winter when many
hogs are going on the market.
There is usually a rise in the spring
after the heavy winter run and
again in the early fall before the
heavy shipments begin. If corn
!prospects continue favorable (and
they are better than average now),
hog slaughter from now through
September will quite likely be ap
preciably smaller than during the
corresponding months of last year.
txx
Cottonseed Meal Is
Good Protein Source
For Chick Rations
Clemson, July 17.—Recent ex
periments at the Poultry Depart
ment of the South Carolina Ex
periment Station here indicate that
good quality cottonseed meal is
entirely satisfactory as a source of
vegetable protein for growing
chicks and pullets, according to Dr.
R. C. Ringrose, assistant- poultry
husbandman of the station.
“Since the protein supplement
is one of the most expensive in
gredients in poultry mashes”, says
Dr. Ringrose, “the poultryman is
always interested in sources of this
nutrient which are less costly. As
animal protein supplements gen
erally cost more than the vegetable
protein supplements, the cost of
the ration can generally be lower
ed by using a combination of equal
parts of protein from animal and
vegetable sources. Hence the im
portance of these tests with cotton
seed meal.
■ In theso experiments”. Dr. Ring-
re.: expla : ns. “cottonseed meal
v"’- tri replace one-half the
r'?rt oe-riT) protein in the ration.
At th: end of eight weeks the
V7h! c Leghorn chicks on the meat
scran and cottonseed meal ration
averaged 1.3 pounds and those on
the meat scrap ration averaged
1 7 pounds.
“As a general rule it is not ad
visable to replace more than one-
0
holf t’-o animal proteins with those
from vegetable sources.”
Many Famous Personages
Born in Summer Months
Are you a genius? For all you
know you may be, and if you were
bom in April, May, June, or July
your chances of fame are much
higher than if you were born in dark
December.
These conclusions are the result
of large-scale investigations by
American biologists who have ex
amined the careers of 10,000 famous
English men and women. By far
the greatest number of them were
born between April and July, while
the worst birth month for possible
English geniuses is December, says
Pearson’s London Weekly.
According to investigators, weath
er and climate play, an important
part in shaping the mental develop
ment of the unborn child. The
rhythm of climatic change affects
our glands, and the human body
responds so as to adjust itself to
the weather. This mysterious change
affects the child as much as the
mother, and in some way, as yet
unknown, the child’s brain is in
creased or retarded by the action
of the glands.
But don’t despair simply because
you are a winter child. Possibilities
of genius may seem attractive, but
they are accompanied by an equal
risk of lunacy. The summer baby
may be a genius, but he also may
be a nit-wit, while the children of
winter months stand a far greater
chance of growing up into normal,
easy-going citizens.
It has also been found that the
birthplace is an important factor. In
America, for example, where the
seasons are the same as in England,
the largest numbers of famous peo
ple have birthdays in October, Nov
ember, and December—quite differ
ent from the English months of
genius.
Marks of Past Illness
Shown by Hair and Nails
Signs of past illness often re
main long after the illness has end
ed. These are to be found where
the circulation is poorest, viz., in
the hair and the nails, says a writer
in Pearson’s London Weekly.
After a severe illness, you will
often find that a ridge appears run
ning across the nail and growing
with it, advancing towards the free
end as the nail gets longer. This
is due to the fact that the illness has
absorbed a good deal of the patient’s
strength and the circulation, in con
sequence, has not been sufficient to
nourish the nails properly.
When anyone gets run down in
general health, the nails frequently
suffer in other ways, especially if
the condition is a chronic one. They
may become brittle and crack eas
ily, while sometimes they are pit
ted with small holes as though they
had been worm-eaten.
To restore the appearance of the
nails you must, of course, first re
store the general health. The prin
cipal cause of the debility must be
treated, and when this has been
done improvement in the circulation
follows. As soon as the nails be
gin -again to get proper nourish
ment they quickly regain their
healthy look.
A Skytop Republic
Bolivia is known as the skytop re
public of South America. With no
outlet to the ^ea, it is reached from
Mollendo, Peru, and Arica and An
tofagasta, Chile. Chief among the
country’s attractions are Lake Titi-
caea, highest navigable lake in the
world; La Paz, the capital, and
two towns called Sucre and Potosi.
The latter was a fabulously wealthy
city long before the Mayflower land
ed its settlers in North America.
Lake Titicaca’s interest to visitors
lies largely in the peculiar beauty
of its mirrorlike, rush-fringed wat
ers, in the Indian villages surround
ing it, and in nearby ruins of cities
belonging to the Tiahuanaco civiliza
tion, which antedate^ even that of
the Inca empire. La Paz, the world’s
highest capital, is notable for its
spectacular setting 12,000 feet
above sea level, in an amphitheater
of crinkled, rust colored rocks and
mountains; for its attractive old
Spanish churches, with their almost
constantly ringing campanile bells.
Sign of the “Go-Getter”
The square type of hand is one in
which the back of ^he hand (ex
cluding the fingers) almost square
in shape. This is the hand of the
practical materialist. The man or
woman who pushes things through
to a decisive conclusion, according
to a writer in Pearson’s London
Weekly. Possessed of a hand such
as this you are determined and
forceful, possess little imagination
or creative ability, but can be re
lied-upon to make a success of any
occupation where sheer grit is re
quired. Methodical and painstaking,
once you get your teeth into a thing,
like the bull-dog, you won’t let go.
You must see it through. .
Woman for President
It is often said that Belva Lock-
wood, who headed the Equal Rights
party ticket in 1884 and again in
1888, was the first woman nominat
ed for the Presidency, but Mrs.
Victoria Claflin Woodhull (later
Marin), was nominated in 1872 for
the Presidency at Vineland, N. J.,
by a convention styling itself the
Equal Rights party. Frederick Doug
lass was the nominee for Vice Pres
ident. Mrs. Woodhull, like Mrs.
Lockwood, received no electoral
votes and only a few scattered popu
lar votes.
— .ute supplies rioter
anJ Ice From Volcanoi
Sometimes Nature supplies powt
or nothing. The people of Larde.
'Mo, in the Province of Pisa, Italy
ive at the foot of an active volcano
Every unit of heat, power, an<
: ght used in the town is obtainec
Irom its fiery interior, thus savin?
the citizens endless expense ant
axation. In addition, commercin
'jorax is obtained from “blow
lo’es” in the hillside, relates a writ
er in London Answers Magazine.
The people of Styria, Austria, live
beside another kindly mountain.
This is “Der Erzberg,” the Iron
Mountain, which is 5,000 feet high
and contains about 300,000,000 tons
of iron ore—fifty per cent of its vol
ume.
There is another iron mountain in
Sweden—Kiirunavaara—which is' 2,-
455 feet high and contains more
high-grade iron than any other
equal area on earth, for seventy
per cent is pure iron.
Needless to sny, both these moun
tains have been exploited by the
communities who live in the vicin
ity.
Nature has also her own gas
works. Medicine Hat, in Alberta,
has for years obtained gas and light
from inexhaustible subterranean
generating stations. There are a
number of wells which supply fifty
miles of houses and streets.
Welland, Ontario, also has a nat
ural gas supply, and so has some of
the Mid-Western of the United
States, but in the latter case gas is
sent by pipeline from Texas—where
the wells are—800 miles away.
Mexico has a volcano that pro
duces ice. This is Colima, which
sometimes bursts into activity. By
some freak, huge hailstones fall
continuously round the crater.
These are collected in special bins,
conveyed to distant towns, and sold
in cafes and hotels.
Spiked Boots Ban Saved
Traverse City Sidewalks
His boots were as sacred to a lum
berjack in Michigan’s boom timber
era as a saddle to a cowboy, but
the loggers couldn’t wear them in
Traverse City, reveals a Traverse
City correspondent in the Detroit
Free Press.
The city passed an ordinance pro
viding a maximum fine of $10 or
10 days in jail for the lumberman
who was found wearing spiked boots
in the city limits. In the ’80s and the
’90s, there was a good reason for
the rule. Traverse City sidewalks
then were constructed of wood.
After a couple of instances when
the city had laid a sidewalk of
new white pine and three or four
hundred rivermen had come off a
drive and riddled it with their spiked
boots the city decided to call a halt.
The boots, made of the finest kan
garoo skin and costing as much as
$45 a pair, were purchased in the
fall. Through the winter the loggers
treated them carefully with mutton
tal’cv/, but they never wore them
until soring when the drive started.
Then the boots went on and stayed
on for as long as two months.
Why the loggers insisted on wa-
tererpof boots when they spent most
of the working day waist-deep in the
water hasn’t been explained.
E!onue~ce of Chief John Logan
In addition to Chief John Logan’s
famous speech that has been given
a permanent place in our histories,
he also once wrote a letter that,
while it is far from the speech in
clocuence, it has nevertheless been
held up as one of the more eloquent
things ddne by an Indian, says a
'.vri*cr in the Cleveland Plain Deal
er. Dated July 21, 1774, it was fas
tened to a war club and left in the
cabin of a slain settler. It read:
“What did you kill rhy people on
Yellow Creek for? The white people
killed my kin at Conestoga a great
while ago, and I thought nothing of
Ihr.t. But you killed my kin again
cr Yellow Creek, and took my cous
in prisoner. Then I thought I must
kill, too, and I have been three
times to v/ar since, but the Indians
are not angry, only myself.”
Among Coral Formations
There are strange alliances down
among the coral formations. The
sponge-like sea anemones grow to
large size in these tropical waters;
some are two feet in diameter. They
are armed with stinging tentacles,
and they feed on small fish and crus
taceans which have been shocked
helpless by the hair-like darts shot
at its victims by the anemone. Cer
tain species of tiny fish swim into
the apertures in the anemone when
danger threatens, and the creature
gives them sanctuary and never
harms them, permitting them to
seek shelter deep down among the
death-dealing tentacles. Larger fish
o’.iasing them are captured, killed,
and eaten by the anemone.
Ben Franklin’s Magazine
Benjamin Franklin in 1740 planned
to issue a general magazine and
outlined his project to John Webbe,
an attorney, who was to be the edi
tor. Webbe revealed the plan to
Andrew Bradford, a printer, who
proposed to issue a magazine in op
position to Franklin’s. On Febru
ary 12, 1741, Bradford announced
that the first issue of the American
Magazine, or a Monthly y.iew of the
Political State of the British Colo
nies, would be published the next
day. On the same day Franklin an
nounced that the first issue of the
General Magazine would appear in
four days.
Not for Sale
By MARY A. McMAKIN
© McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
««P RETTY good, eh! I should say,
* rather. But what’s come over
Bryce? This is entirely out of his
line. Wonderful piece of work,
though. Best he’s ever done, and
that’s no mean praise.”
A group of members was linger
ing in the salon of the Art club, dis
cussing the fall exhibition which had
opened that day with a private
showing for “members only.” David
Bryce’s “Portrait of a Young Wom
an” held chief place in the conversa
tion. For the past 10 years Bryce
had been exhibiting, and the pub
lic was familiar with his pictures
of the sea and his boy groups. His
work in these two fields was well
recognized and appreciated. But on
this occasion he had sprung a sur-*
prise and the club was buzzing with
curiosity. Bryce himself had noth
ing to say.
“A change is good for one. you
know,” he had laughingly reolied
when questioned. And that was all.
Old Jim the caretaker, however,
had his own opinion of “Mister
Bryce’s” picture, an opinion which
he kept to himself.
But some one was written in the
stars for David, an altogether de
sirable someone, and one day he
found her. He was Walking through
the business section of the city
when he saw a girl with a sun
burned nose emerge from an office
building. The little patch of red at
tracted David and he followed her.
The pursuit led through an alley
slit between two blocks, down a
flight of steps, and into a cafeteria.
While he ate, he studied his com
panion covertly as she glanced in
terestedly about her. Once her eyes
rested upon David, quite imperson
ally, as they might upon any object
confronting them, but David’s heart
stood still. They were beautiful eyes,
candid and clear.
“She’s a dreamer,” thought David,
“and her dreams are not ordinary.”
When Miss Sunburn arose David
reached for his check, although his
meal was but half - eaten. Food
meant nothing just then. The im
portant thing was not to lose sight of
her, and David discreetly trailed,
following as she took a short walk
before returning to her office.
For a month this continued, and
David had learned a little from his
noon-day study. Miss Sunburn loved
the sea, for several times her walk
had taken her in the direction of
the wharves, and he had noticed
how her face had lifted to the sharp,
salt air; once she had stopped to
watch a solitary gull winging its
way , above ugly warehouses. She
disliked her work, for she seemed
to droop, her step lost its springi
ness, when she neared the office
building. She cared for pictures, for
she had cut short her lunch one
noon in oruer to view those on ex
hibition at one of the art shops.
One evening David turned into the
River drive for a walk. The sun was
just setting. The crimson-and-gold
of the sky was reflected in the water,
and a rosy glow diffused itself 6ver
everything. Suddenly he saw Miss
Sunburn. She was standing by the
rail looking tt^ard the west. Her
face seemed transfigured, lost in
contemplation of the loveliness
about her.
An inspiration came to David. He
would paint her. just as he saw her
there, for the Fall Exhibition. He
worked steadily, grudging the time
given to sleep and meals until the
portrait was finished. Every line of
her face and figure had been brand
ed in his heart and the result satis
fied even his critical eyes. The can
vas, carefully wrapped, was sent to
the Art club.
The two weeks that followed were
weeks of misery for David. He
haunted the salon but Miss Sunburn
did not come. He stopped going to
the cafeteria for fear she might
recognize him and spoil his surprise.
The last day—would she come? She
might be ill—he dared not think
that. Half-past five and at six the
doors closed. That little wing-tipped
hat! Yes, it was. David felt strange
ly weak. What would she think of
him? Would his daring offend her?
He drew nearer, following her until
she stood before the picture. They
were alone save for one or two
stragglers near the door, and Jim.
who was busily picking up discarded
catalogues and pamphlets.
The girl was very quiet standing
before the portrait. Then she turned
surprised and a little frightened and
noticed David. “It is a picture of
me, but how did it get here and how
could David Bryce know me well
enough to paint me like that?”
David drew her to a chair. “Don’t
be frightened. I am David Bryce. 1
saw you one evening on the River
Drive and painted you.” Then with a
rush David went on from his first
glimpse of the sunburn to the com
pletion of the portrait and his fear
that she would not come to the ex
hibition.
Jim had shooed out the stragglers,
discreetly overlooking David and his
companion. “So that’s the story.
Hm! well, there’s one picture that
won’t be for sale, though there’d be
many a one to buy it. I’ll be wrap-
pin’ it up tonight for he’ll be sendin'
for it the first thing in the moiwiin’
Them that’s intended for each othei
generally finds each other, though
it’s queer the way things do hap
pen.” And thus ruminating, Jim
stumped off in search of burlap. I
Managing Mothers
By ELOISE C. RIVERS
i McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
Trim Young Man
By DOROTHY MILLS
) McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
ly/TRS. CARRUTHERS risked
strangulation on a mouthful of
pins as, through the bedroom win
dow, she saw her youngest daughter
pause on the corner.
“Goodness!” she exclaimed petu
lantly. “I hope Valerie won’t ask
Minna Dale to come in. We’re busy
enough as it is. I don’t see why Val
cultivates the girl, anyway. She’s
nobody at all socially.”
“Ouch!” returned her next eldest
daughter, who was submitting to
the torture of having a new gown
fitted. “You needn’t stick pins in me
because of Val’s rotten taste in
chums. She didn’t inherit it from
your side, old dear. You have the
eye of a hawk when it comes to
picking out social lights.”
Mrs. Carruthers shrugged weary
shoulders at Miss Liscomb, who was
helping her sew that day. “Not one!
of my daughters appreciates the.
sacrifices I go to and the effort I ex-’
pend to keep them in the proper
social circle.”
“Is it so all-fired necessary?”
drawled Beth, slipping into her
smart woolen frock.
“Absolutely.” Mrs. Carruthers’
thin lips snapped on the word. “I;
wish, young Miss, I had had a moth
er to manage for me, when I was
your age. I might have made a
successful marriage.”
Since she had come to Fairview,
many years before, a grief-stricken
widow with five lovely, half-grown
daughters, she had moved in the
most select circles.
Three girls had already made bril
liant marriages to the sons of Fair-
view’s finest families. Lucille, who
had married a mining engineer, was!
in Mexico: Janet in Chicago; and
Charlotte and her husband wrote"
vivid letters from Shanghai, where
he represented an oil concern.
Instead of relaxing a bit, Mrs.
Carruthers doubled her efforts to
make .brilliant marriages for her
two remaining daughters. Beth was
disturbingly sarcastic about her en
deavors, and Valerie had the bad
taste to show a marked preference
for Minna Dale’s brother, whose phe
nomenal playing as halfback on the
high school eleven was his only
claim to distinction. “Why, he be
longs to the poorest fraternity, and
he dances atrociously,” scolded
Mrs. Carruthers.
“Well, I like him just the same,”;
answered Valerie calmly.
At the end of Minna’s senior year
Beth Carruthers was successfully,
although somewhat protestingly,
married off. Two years later, while
Minna Dale was away at college,;
she wrote Valerie how so^ry she
was not to be able to attend her
wedding. She wished her all the
happiness and good fortune in the
world. She did not add that she
couldn’t bear to see Val married to
anyone but her own precious brother
Jim, who had always adored Val.
One afternoon in May, some 10
yeefs after their graduation, a lux
urious limousine poked its way up
the Carruthers’ drive and a laugh
ing woman jumped out, a woman
so exquisitely gowned that the five
former Carruthers girls, idling on
the porch, had hard work to believe
her the plain little girl who had
been Minna Dale.
Mrs. Carruthers was most gra
cious. Surely, Minna hadn’t mar
ried the famous Dr. Kent, whose
surgical skill was world known?
Minna casually admitted that she
had.
“It is wonderful to see you all to
gether again,” she smiled. “The
last I heard you were scattered in
every corner of the globe. And you
are all just as beautiful as ever. Are
you staying here long?”
There was an awkward pause.
Mrs. Carruthers’ glib tongue en
deavored to belie the odd flushes
that came over her daughters’
faces.
“It was so lonely without them, I
just insisted they come back with
the babies to pay me a long visit. It
seems like old times, once more.”
Minna suspected she was lying.
She left, shortly afterwards, and
Valerie, walking as far as the car
with her, let the cat out of the bag.
“Don’t believe what mother said,”
she whispered. “We’re all home for
good. Mother’s brilliant marriages
have come home to roost, chicks
and all. Lucille’s husband desertect
her for a nobody; Janet couldn’t
stand Sam’s drinking; Charlotte left
Bob when he got tangled up with a
woman in Shanghai, and Beth’s hus
band said she was too sarcastic to
live with.”
“And you?” asked Minna.
“Oh, I?” Valerie sighed. “Hal
went overseas and never came
back.’ 9
“Killed? Oh, my dear.”
“Nope. Fell in love with a French
countess. I divorced him three years
ago, so he could marry her. Hope
they’re happy. I only married him
to please mother. I never loved any
one but your brother Jim,” she
added, fiercely.
Minna gathered both her hands
into hers. “Val, dear, I wonder if
you are the reason why Jim has
never married? He’s coming down
to spend a week-end with us soon.
Can’t you plan to visit us at the
same time?”
Valerie swallowed the big lump
in her throat. Soft, unshed tears dis
pelled the bitterness in her lovely
blue eyes.
“Oh, Minna,” she breathed joy-
ously, ‘‘I’ll coma ... 1*11 ooma.” 1
F UNICE HATTON, bobbed haired
^ and completely a la mode, pat
ted her marcel into place and sat,
back to wait for the rising of the,
curtain. It was Rotary night at the 1
Shelbourne theater, and, incidental
ly, a new leading man was to make
his appearance. Either of these add-
-ed attractions v/as sufficient to bring
forth a representative of the press,
and Eunice, efficient young person'
that she was, carried within her!
calfskin bag a badge which identi-!
fied her with the Daily Bulletin. Her;
manner was slightly bored, because
she was new at the work, and bore
dom, that easy boredom which
tokens sophistication, seemed to herj
just the proper attitude for the blase
lady reporter.
But Eunice was young, and it:
would have been a very blase person:
indeed who could have been really
'bored when the curtain rose, re-:
vealing a trim young man in riding
breeches, soft shirt and sombrero.
But it was still a blase young
woman who, back-stage after the
final curtain, asked to speak to Mr.!
Jack Gade.
“Good evening,” said Eunice,;
professionally, to the broad back in,
the brocade dressing gown. j
“Oh, good evening! Won’t you sit;
down?” The trim young man re-!
moved a pair of shoes from the;
other chair.
“I’m from the Daily Bulletin,” 1
said Eunice, looking for the first
time full into the provocative eyes.;
“I liked your performance this eve- 1
ning.”
“Oh, I’m so glad! But then, we.
had a good play to work with, you
know.”
“Yes, I know. I’m here to get an;
interview with you, Mr. Gade. You’
know the kind of stuff—where you;
came from, what you’ve played be-;
fore, and how you like the city.”
“Oh, yes. But there isn’t much to;
tell. I was on Broadway last season,
you know. And I’ve played practical-;
ly everything. And you may say I;
like your city. In fact,” and
he looked at Eunice appreciatively,-
“I like it more every minute.”
“Oh,” and the blase young ladyj
blushed a warm pink. Then, after a!
second’s pause, she threw down the;
gauntlet. “I suppose you must be!
rather lonesome, though. I mean, _
you probably don’t know many peo-:
pie here?”
“No, I don’t, and there you have;
my chief trouble. I’ve been here;
only a week, and we seldom meet,
any but theatrical people. Of course,,
we play every evening, but there,
are only two matinees a week. That,
leaves four afternoons to kill.” He;
paused while Eunice waited ex» ;
pectantly.
“Perhaps—” he ventured.
“Yes?” said Eunice, squinting In;
response.
“Well, I thought you might be will-;
ing to take lunch with me tomorrow.;
And perhaps by then I .will have:
thought of something more to tell;
you about myself. Will you come?” :
“Why, yes. I have to have the{
interview, you see.”
“Oh, is that the only reason?”
“And I liked your performance.**;
“Well, that’s encouraging, any-:
way. Then, say, at the Rochester
at 12? I’ll meet you in the lobby.”!
“Very well. Good evening.”
“Oh, but you haven’t told me your;
name.”
“Miss Hatton.”
“Haven’t you a first name?” ;
“Not yet.” ;•
The sophisticated, indifferent Eu
nice got as far as home and shut!
herself in her room before she suc
cumbed to the romantic, thrilled;
little girl who demanded recognition.
It was still the second Eunice who
persisted in going to the office the
next morning, denying even a busi
ness-like attitude to the newspaper
Eunice.
And when, at 11 o’clock, a
messenger asked for Miss Hatton, it
was still the second Eunice who tore
open the envelope with nervous
haste and read: “Am so sorry can
not meet you this noon. Will ex
plain as soon as possible.”
At 12:30 it was the professional
Eunice who sat at a white-topped
table in a cafeteria and exchanged !
office chat with another efficient
young woman in a tailored suit.
- “Oh, my dear,” said the other ef
ficient one, “have you heard the
latest? Let’s see, you covered the
Shelbourne last night, didn’t you?
Well that new leading man—hand
some, isn’t he?—he’s only been in
town a week, but his wife is here
and is going to sue him for divorce.
Wonderful story. And when I was
coming out of the Rochester a little
while ago, after getting the list of
new guests, what do you suppose?
Why, I saw him at a corner table
with that little Simms girl that
works over at the Hoton shoe, and
who was mixed up in that affair
last month. My dear, what’s the
matter? Don’t you like that salad?
Well, I never liked shrimp, either.”
And yet Mr. Gade, he of the pro
vocative smile and the friendly
squint, never quite understood why,
when he called in the afternoon
and invited this young person to
a late lunch following the evening
performance, he was answered by;
“Sorry, Mr. Gade. Had to have
the story, you know; so I saw your
manager this afternoon. What?
Lonesome? Then I should recom
mend you to our Lonely Hearts col
umn. Some people get results that
way.” J