The Hennessey Clipper (Hennessey, Okla.), Vol. 25, No. 42, Ed. 1 Thursday, March 25, 1915 Page: 3 of 12
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Oklahoma Digital Newspaper Program and was provided to The Gateway to Oklahoma History by the Oklahoma Historical Society.
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
THE CUPPER. HENNESSEY. OKLAHOMA.
M15 WHITE
GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
[iLUST RATIONS
FAY WALTERS
copyrt/gvt. 19/+.
gy dodo, jviad
a/td co/iPA/yy
SYNOPSIS.
—2—
In the Npw York home of James Proo<l
Tjawes and Riggs, his two old pensioners
and comrades, await the coming or
Brood's Hon Frederic to learn the contents
of a wireless from Brood, but Frederic,
after reading, throws it into the fire and
leaves the room without a word. Frederit
tells Lydia Desmond, his fiancee, that the
^message announces his father's marriage
find orders the house prepared for an im-
mediate homecoming.
CHAPTER II—Continued.
"It proves that your father has made
iiio mistake in selecting his friends, my
dear. Mv dear husband used to say
that he would cheerfully die for James
Brood and he knew that James Brood
■would have died for him just as read-
ily. There is something in friendships
|of that sort that we can't understand.
We have never been able to test our
(friends, much less ourselves. We—"
"I would die for you, Mrs. Des-
imond," cried Frederic, a deep flush
overspreading his face. "For you and
ILydia."
"You come by that naturally," she
wald, laying her hand upon his arm.
"Blood will tell. Thank you, Fred-
eric." She smiled. "I am sure it will
inot be necessary for you to die for
ine, however. As for Lydia, you must
Illve, not die for her."
"I'll do both," he cried, impulsively.
"'Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive," she
>eaid simply. "And now, one word
more, Frederic. You must accept this
new condition of affairs in the right
■spirit. Your father has married again,
after all these years. It is not likely
•that he has done so without delibera-
tion. Therefore, it is reasonable to
assume that he is bringing home with
ihim a wife of whom he at least is
proud, and that should weigh con-
siderably in your summing up of the
Situation. She will be beautiful, ac-
complished, refined—and good, Fred-
leric. Of that you may be sure. Let
line implore you to withhold judgment
funtil another and later day."
"I do not object to the situation,
3irs. Desmond," said he, the angry
Jight returning to his eyes, "so much
jrs I resent the wording of that tele-
gram. It is always just that way. He
loses no chance to humiliate me.
He—"
"Hush! You are losing your temper
again."
"Well, who wouldn't? And here's
another thing—the very worst of all.
Jiow is this new condition going to
affect you, Mrs. Desmond?"
She was silent for a moment. "Of
course I shan't stay on here, Frederic.
3 shall not be needed now. As soon as
JVlrs. Brood is settled here I shall go."
"And you expect me to be cheerful
(and contented!" he cried, bitterly.
"Something of the sort," she said
"My father objects to my going into
business or taking up a profession. I
am dependent on him for everything.
iBut why go into that? We've talked
lit over a thousand times. 1 don't un-
derstand but perhaps you do. It's a
dog's way of living."
"Your father is making a man of
you."
"Oh, he is, eh?" with great scorn.
"Yes. He will make you see some
day that the kind of life you lead is
"1 wouldn't try to get at it. my
dear," she said. "Wait and see. Come,
you must have your coffee. 1 am
glad you came down early. The old
gentlemen are at breakfast now.
Come in."
He followed her dejectedly, a per-
ceptible droop to his shoulders.
Mr. Dawes and Mr. Uiggs were seat- j
ed at the table. Lydia. a trifle pale j
and distrait, was puurin^ out their j
third cup of coffee. 1 ae old men
showed no sign of their midnight ex-
perience. They were very wide-
awake, clear-eyed aud alert, as old
men will be who do not count the
years of life left in the span appoint-
ed for them.
"Good morning, Freddy," said they,
almost in one voice. As he passed
behind their chairs on his way to
Lydia's side, he slapped each of them
cordially on the back. They seemed
to swell with relief and gratitude.
He was not in the habit of slapping
tliem on the back.
"Good morning, gentlemen," said
he. Then he lifted Lydia's slim fin-
gers to his lips. "Good morning, dear."
She squeezed his fingers tightly and
smiled. A look of relief leaped into
her eyes; she drew a long breath.
She poured his coffee for him every
morning. Her hand shook a little as
she lifted the tiny cream pitcher. "I
didn't sleep very well," she explained
in a low voice. His hand rested on
her shoulder for a moment in a gentle
caress.
"Poor old Jim!" sighed Mr. Dawes.
"He'll probably have to ask us to va-
mose, too. I Imagine she'll insist on
making a spare bedroom out of our
room, so's she can entertain all of her
infernal relations. Jones, will you
give me some more bacon and another
egg?"
"And I thought it was nothing but
a shipwreck," murmured Mr. Kiggs,
plaintively.
Frederic hurried through breakfast.
Lydia followed him into the library.
"Are you going out, dear?" she
asked anxiously.
"Yes. I've got to do something. I
can't sit still and think of what's go-
ing to happen. I'll be back for lunch-
eon."
Half an hour later he was In the
small bachelor apartment of two col-
lege friends, a few blocks farther up-
town, and he was doing the thing he
did nearly every day of his life in a
surreptitious way. He sat at the
cheap upright piano in their disor-
dered living-room and, unhampered by
the presence of young men who pre-
ferred music as it is rendered for the
masses, played as if his very soul was
in his fingers.
pre&om liu-o* m* oww m. oruoo
as "the best old boys in all the world,"
and tiny were both saying, with spas-
modic cackles of pleasure, that she
"mustn't believe a word the young
rascal said."
He was struck by the calm, serene
manner in which she accepted these
jocular contributions to the occasion.
Her smile was friendly, her handshake
cordial, and yet there was an unmis-
takable air of tolerance, as of one who
Is accustomed to tribute. She merely
smiled and thanked them in simple,
commonplace phrases. Her voice was
low-pitched and marked by a huski-
ness that was peculiar in that it was
musical, not throaty. Frederic, on
first seeing her, had leaped to the con
tiiK aooui m* room with *>es mat
seemed to take in everything
"I am sure 1 shall be very happy in
this dear old house," she said quietly.
"Your own mother must have loved it,
Frederic."
James Brood started. Unnoticed by
the others, his fingers tightened on
the gloves he carried in his hand.
"1 never knew my mother," said
the young man. "She died when I
was a baby."
"But of course this was her home,
was It not?"
"1 don't know," said Frederic, un
comfortably. "1 suppose so. I—1 came j
arter prolonged separations, to look
for something in the boy's face that
he wanted to see and yet dreaded,
something that might have escaped
him when in daily contact with him.
Now, at the end of the rather offen-
sive scrutiny, he seemed to shake his
head slightly, although one could not
have been sure.
room was oarkened oy uanua «n
heavy window hangings; the effect
was that produced by the gloaming
just before the stars appear. Objects
were shadowy, indistinct, mysterious.
The light from the jade-room door
threw a diverging ray across the full
length of the room. In the very cen
ter of this bright strip sat a placid
"And as charming as she Is attrac- ! efllgy of Buddha that Brood had found
in a remote corner of Slam, serenely
stolid on top of its thick base of
| tive, Frederic," he said, with a faint
flush of the enthusiasm he suppressed.
"Who is she?" asked his son, with-
out realizing the bluntness of his
eager question.
"Who Is she°" repeated his father,
"She
here a Tew yenrs ago and—" I raising his eyebrows slightly.
"Hut even though you never knew is Mrs James lirood
her, there must still be something j "I—I beg your pardon." stammered
| elusion that her English would not be | here that-that-how shall I say it ' | £red,'r,cw ''' '° r"t "
I mean, you must feel that she and , m that way. Who was sh
bronze and lacquer, with a shining
shrine for a background. In the dim
edge of the shadow, near the door at
the far end of the room, Lydia made
out the motionless, indistinct figure of
a woman. The faint outlines of the
face were discernible but not so the
>
She Was Silent for a Moment.
tiot the kind you want. Your pride,
S'our ambition will rebel. Then you
■will make something out of life for
yourself."
"Well, it looks to me as If he means
to make It impossible for me to marry,
Mrs Desmond. I've thought of it a
good deal."
"And is it impossible?"
"No. I shall marry Lydia, even
Aough I have to dig In the streets
for her. It Isn't that, however. There's
Rome other reason back of his attl-
tuda, but tor th Ufa of me I can't
ket at 11"
CHAPTER III.
The Bride.
Frederic flatly refused to meet the
steamer when she docked. As if
swayed by his decision, Dawes and
Kiggs likewise abandoned a plan to
greet the returning master and his
bride as they came down the gang-
plank. But for the almost peremp-
tory counsel of Mrs. Desmond, Brood's
son would have absented himself from
the house on the day of their arrival.
Jones and a footman went to the pier
with the chauffeur.
It was half-past two in the after-
noon when the automobile drew up
in front of the house and the fur-
coated footman nimbly hopped down
and threw open the door.
James Brood, a tall, distinguished-
looking man of fifty, stepped out of
the limousine. For an Instant, before
turning to assist his wife from the car,
lie allowed his keen eyes to sweep the
windows on the lower floor. In one
of them stood his son, holding the lace
curtains apart and smiling a welcome
that seemed sincere. He waved his
hand to the man on the sidewalk.
Brood responded with a swift, almost
perfunctory gesture and then held out
his band to the woman who was de-
scending.
Frederic's intense gaze was fixed
on the stranger who was coming into
his life. At a word from Brood, she
glanced up at the window. The smile
still lingered on Hie young man's lips,
but his eyes were charge with an
expression of acute wonder. He had
never looked upon a more beautiful
creature in all his life. A kind of stu-
pefaction held him motionless unti^ he
heard the door close behind them; in
the brief interval, however, a picture
had been impressed upon his senses
that was to last forever.
She was slightly above the medium
height, slender and graceful even in
the long, thick coat that enveloped
her. She did not wear a veil. He had
a swift but nndurlng glimpse of a cu-
riously pallid, perfectly modeled face;
of jet black hair; of a firm, sensitive
chin. Somehow he received the ex-
traordinary Impression that the slim,
lithe body was never cold; that she
expressed in some indefinable way
the unvarying temperature of youth.
He hurried into the hall, driven by
the latent spur of duty. He heard his
father'B warm, almost gay response to
the greetings of the old men, whose
hands he wrung with a fervor that
wu uumla'-aJtable. He beard hlrTI
perfect. He was somewhat surprised
to discover that she had but the faint-
est trace of an accent. He awoke sud-
denly, however, to the realization that
| he had been looking into his new step-
I mother's eyes for a long time and that
she was returning his gaze with some
intensity.
"And this?" she said, abruptly break-
ing in upon one of Danbury's hasty
reminiscences, effectually ending it,
"this is Frederic?"
She came directly toward the young
man, her small, gloved hand extended.
Her eyes were looking into hts with
an intentness that disconcerted him
There was no smile on her lips. It
was as if she regarded this moment
as a pronounced crisis.
Frederic mumbled something fatu-
ous about being glad to see her, and
felt his face burn under her steady
gaze. His father came forward.
"Yes; this is Frederic, my dear," he
said, without a trace of warmth In his
voice. As she withdrew her hand
from Frederic's clasp, James Brood
extended his. "How are you, Fred-
eric?''
"Quite well, sir."
They shook hands in the most per-
functory manner.
"I need not ask how you are, fa-
ther," said the son, after an instant's
hesitation. "You never looked bet-
ter, sir."
"Thank you. I am well. Ah, Mrs.
Desmond! It is good to be home
again with you all. My dear, permit
me to introduce Mrs. John Desmond.
You have heard me speak of my old
comrade and—"
"I have heard you speak of Mr. Des-
mond a thousand times," said his wife.
There may have been a shade of em-
phasis on the prefix, but it was so
slight that no one remarked it save
the widow of John Desmond, who had
joined the group.
"Will you go to your room at once,
Mrs. Brood?" asked Mrs. Desmond.
The new mistress of the house had not
offered to shake hands with her, as
James Brood had done. She had
moved closer to Frederic and was
smiling in a rather shy, pleading way,
in direct contrast to her manner of the
moment before. The smile was for
her stepson. She barely glanced at
Mrs. Desmond.
"Thank you, no. I see a nice, big
fire and—oh, I have been so cold!"
She shivered very prettily.
"Come!" cried her husband. "That's
just the thing." No one spoke as they
moved toward the library. "We must>
try to thaw out," he added dryly, with
a faint smile on his lips.
His w ife laid her hand on Frederic's
arm. "It is cold outside, Frederic,"
she said; "very cold. I am not accus-
tomed to the cold."
He was prepared to dislike her. He
was determined that his hand should
be against her in the conflict that was
bound to come. And now, in a flash,
a strange, new emotion rushed up
within him like a flood. A queer,
wistful note of sympathy in her voice
had done the trick. Something in
the touch of her fingers on his arm
completed the mystery. He was con-
scious of a mighty surge of relief.
The horizon cleared for him.
"We shall do our best to keep you
warmth," he said quite gayly, and was
somewhat astonished at himself.
They had preceded the others into
the library. James Brood was divest-
ing himself of his coat in the hall, at-
tended by the leech-like old men. Mrs.
Desmond stood in the doorway, a de-
tached figure.
"You must love me. Frederic. You
must be very, very fond of me, not
for your father's sake but for mine.
Then we shall be great friends, not
antagonists."
He was helping her with her coat.
"I confess I looked forward to you
with a good deal of animosity," he
said.
"But I shall not be a stepmother,"
she said quickly. Her eyes were seri-
ous for an instant, then filled with a
luminous smile. "I shall be Yvonne
to you, and you Frederic to me. Let
it be a good beginning."
"You are splendid!" he cried. "It's
not going to be at all bad."
"I am sure you will like me," she
said composedly.
Brood joined them at the fireside.
"My dear, Mrs. Desmond will show
you over the house when you are
ready. You will be Interested In see-
ing the old place. Later on I shall
take you up to my secret hiding place,
as they pay In books. Ranjab will
have the rooms in order by this eve-
ning. Where is your daughter, Mrs.
Desmond?"
"She is at work on the catalogue,
Mr. Brood, in the jade-room. In your
last letter you instructed her to finish
that—"
"But this is a holiday, Mrs. Des-
mond." said he, frowning. "Jones,
will you ask Miss Lydia to join us for
tea at half-past four?"
"You will adore Lydia," said Fred-
eric to Mrs. Brood.
Apparently she did not hear him,
for she cave no sign. She wu look-
you were here together years and
years ago. One may never have seen j
his mother, yet ho can always feel j
her. There is something shall I say i
spiritual.—-in -"
Her husband broke in upon these j
unwelcome reflections. His voice was
curiously harsh.
"Mrs. Desmond Is waiting. Yvonne, j
She drew herself up. "Are you in j - —
such great haste, Mrs. Desmond?" she|<hat could be desired
asked in a voice that cut like a knife.
Instinctively, she glanced at Fred
eric's face. She saw the muscles of
the jaw harden and an angry light
leap into his eyes. Instantly her arro-
gance fell away. "I beg your pardon,
Mrs. Desmond. I have many bad hab-
its. Now will you kindly show me
to my room? 1 prefer that you and
not of the servants should be my
guide. Au revoir, Frederic. Till tea-
time, James."
Her eyes were sparkling, her husky
voice once more full of the appealing
quality that could not be denied. The
flush of injured pride faded from Mrs.
Desmond's brow, and a faint look of
surprise crept into her eyes. To her
further amazement, the younger wom-
an laid a hand upon her arm and gave
It a gentle, friendly pressure.
The men watched them In silence as
they left the room, side by side. A
moment later they heard the soft
laughter of the two women as they
mounted the stairs together
Frederic drew a long breath
"She's splendid, father," he said.
impulsively.
Brood's face was still clouded. He
did not respond to the eager tribute.
Father and son faced each other.
They were a striking pair, each in
his way an example of fine, clean
Whe
lid you meet her and- Oh, I want to
know all there is to tell, father. I've
heard nothing. 1 am naturally curi
ous —"
Hrood stopped him with a gesture
"She was Yvonne Lestrange, before
we were married—Mademoiselle Le
strange. We met some time ago at
the house of a mutual friend in Paris
1 assure you, her references are all
lis tone was |
sarcastic.
Frederic flushed "I'm sorry 1 asked
the questions, sir," he said, stiffly.
Hrood suddenly laughed, a quiet
laugh that had some trace of humor
and a touch of compunction in it. "1
beg your pardon, Frederic. Come up
to my room and smoke a cigar with
me while I'm changing. I'll tell you
about her. She Is wonderful."
To his own surprise, and to Fred-
eric's astonishment, lie linked his arm
in the young man's and started toward
the hall. Afterward Hrood was to won-
der even more than he wondered then
what It was that created the sudden
desire to atone for the hurt look he
had brought to the eyes of Matilde's
son and the odd longing to touch
his arm gently.
WHI
www
'J
m V«',: -
MX
"But I Shall Not Be a Stepmother,"
She Said, Quickly.
manhood. The father was taller by a
couple of inches than the son, and yet
Frederic was nearly six feet in his
stockings. Both were spare men,
erect and gracefully proportioned.
Brood gave out the Impression of
great strength, of steel sinews, of In-
vincible power; Frederic did not sug-
gest physical strength, aud yet he was
a clean-limbed, well-built fellow. He
had a fine head, a slim body whose
every movement proclaimed nervous
energy, and a face that denoted tem-
perament of the most pronounced
character. It was not a strong face,
nor was it weak; it represented char-
acter without force.
On the other hand, James Brood's
lean, handsome face was full of
power. His gray eyes were keen,
steady, compelling and seldom alight
with warmth. His jaw was firm,
square, resolute, and the lines that
sank heavily into the flesh in his
cheeks were put there not by age but
by the very vigor of manhood. His
hair was quite gray.
Frederic waited for his father to
speak. But James Brood had noth-
ing to say. "She is very attractive,
father," said the young man at last,
almost wistfully. He did not realize
it, but he was groping for sympathy,
Brood had been In the house for a
quarter of an hour, after an absence
of nearly a year, yet his greeting had
been cold, casual, matter-of-fact. Fred-
eric expected little more than that;
still he felt in a vague way that now,
if never again, the Ice of reserve
might be broken between them if
only for a moment. He was ready and
willing to do his part.
Brood was studying the young man's
face with an intensity that for the
moment disconcerted him. He seemed
bent on fixing certain features In his
mlud's eye, as If bis memory had once
played him false and should not do
so again. It was a bablt of Brool'a.
CHAPTER IV.
In the Jade Room.
Lydla met Brood and Frederic at
the top of the stairs. She had re
ceived the message through Jones
and was on her way to dress lor tea.
The master of the house greeted her
most cordially, lie was very fond of
this lovely, gentle daughter of John
Desmond. Into their association had
stolen an intimate note that softened
the cold reserve of the man to a
marked degree. Ills chief joy was to
chat with her over the work he was
doing and to listen to her frank, hon-
est opinions. She regarded herself
as his secretary—or his amanuensis.
In the strict sense of speaking—but lie
considered her to be a friend as well,
and treated her with a freedom that
was not extended to others.
A faint gleam of astonishment
lurked in the girl's eyes as she stood
before the two men. Never, In her
experience, had there been such an ex-
hibition of friendliness between father
and son. A curious throb of joy
rushed up from her heart and lodged
in her throat. For the tlrst time she
found it difficult to respond with com-
posure to Brood's lively comments.
Tears were lying close to the surface
of her eyes—tears of relief and grati-
tude. The buoyant expression in Fred-
eric's told a new story. Her heart
rejoiced.
"Nonsense!" said Brood when she
announced that she was going to
change her gown. "You never looked
so pretty, my dear, as you do at this
moment. Come just as you are. to
please me."
"A tea party and an autopsy are
very much alike, Mr. Brood," said
she. "One can learn a lot at either.
Still, if you'd like to have Mrs. Brood
see me as I really am, I'll appear sans
plumage."
"I'd like it," said he promptly. "I
am sure you will like each other,
Lydia."
'I am glad you did not say we would
admire each other," said she quaintly.
"You look very happy. Mr. Brood,"
she went on, her eyes bright.
"I believe I am happy," said he.
"Then we shall all be happy," was
her rejoinder.
She returned to the jade-room on
the upper floor, where she had been
at work on the catalogue. Brood had
a very large and valuable collection
of jade. The jade-room, so called, was
little more than a large closet off the
remarkable room which James Brood
was pleased to call his "hiding place,"
or on occasion, his "retreat." No one
ventured into either of these rooms
except by special permission.
Ranjab, Ills Indian servant, slept
In an adjoining room, and it was whis-
pered about the house that not evten
James Brood had viewed its Interior.
This silent, unapproachable man from
the mysterious heart of India, locked
his door when he entered the room
and locked it when he came out. No
one, not even the master, thought of
entering. Mr. Dawes, in his cups or
out of them, was responsible for the
impression that the man kept deadly
serpents there. As a matter of fact,
Ilanjab was a peaceable fellow and
desperately afraid of snakes.
Lydia loved the feel of the cold, oily
lumps of jade. There were a few
pieces of porcelain of extreme rarity
and beauty as well, and several price-
less bits of cloisonne, but It was the
jade she loved. There were two or
three hundred objects of various size3
and color and all were what might be
called museum pieces.
She had been at work for half an
hour or longer when a noise ui the
outer room attracted her attention.
She had the odd feeling that some one
was looking at her through the open
door, and swiftly turned.
Except when occupied by Brood th*
A Noise in the Outer Room Attracted
Her Attention.
features. For a moment the girl stared
at the watcher and then advanced to
the door.
"Who Is it?" she Inquired, peering.
A low, husky voice replied, with a
suggestion of laughter In the tones.
"I am exploring the house."
Lydia came forward at once. "Oh,
It is Mrs. Brood I beg your pardon.
Shall I switch on the lights?"
"You are Lydla?"
"Yes, Mrs. Brood."
"I have been prowling everywhere.
Your good mother deserted me when
my maid arrived with Itanjab a short
time ago. Isn't this the dreadful blue-
beard room? Shall I lose my head If
1 am discovered by the ogre?"
The girl felt the spell stealing over
her. The low voice of the woman In
the shadow was like a sensuous ca-
ress. She experienced a sudden long-
ing to be closer to the speaker, to
listen for the very intake of her
breath.
"You have already been discovered
by the ogre. Mrs. Brood," said Lydla,
gayly, "and your head appears to be
quite safe."
"Thank you," rather curtly, as If re-
pelling familiarity. It was like a dash
of cold water to Lydia's spirits. "You
may turn on the lights. I should like
to see you, Miss Desmond."
The girl crossed the room, passing
close to the stranger in the house.
The fragrance of a perfume hitherto
unknown to her separated Itself from
the odor of sandalwood that always
filled the room; it was soft, delicate,
refreshing. It was like a breath of
cool, sweet air filtering into a close,
stuffy room. One could not help draw-
ing in a long, full breath, as if the
lungs demanded its revivifying quali-
ties.
A soft, red glow began to fill the
room as Lydla pulled the cord near
the door. As the light grew brighter
and brighter the eyes of the stranger
swept the room with undisguised won-
der in their depths.
"How extraordinary!" she mur-
mured, and then turned swiftly toward
the girl. "Where does it come from?
I can see no lights. And seel There
are no shadows, not even beneath the
table yonder. It—It is uncanny—but,
oh, how lovely!"
Lydla was staring at her with wide-
open eyes, frankly astonished. The
eager, excited gleam vanished from
Mrs. Brood's lovely eyes. They nar-
rowed ever so slightly.
"Why do you stare at me?" she de-
manded.
"I—I expected—" began Lydla, and
stopped in pretty confusion.
"I see. You expected a middle-aged
lady, ai—e? And why, pray, should
James Brood marry a middle-aged
person?"
"I—I don't know. I'm sorry If I
have offended you."
Mrs. Blood smiled, a gay, pleased
little smile that revealed her small,
even teeth. "You haven't offended
me, my dear," she said. "You offend
my husband by thinking so ill of him,
that's all." She took the girl in from
head to foot with critical eyes. "He
said you were very pretty and very
lovable. You a lovely. No one
wants to be prettv. Yes, you are just
what I expected."
Lydla was the t ll*.r of the two
women; a matter of two inches per-
haps, and yet she had the curious feel-
ing that she was looking upward as
she gazed into the other's eyes It
was the way Mrs. Brood held herself.
Sending a swift glance around the
room, she went on: "My husband de-
lights in having beautiful things about
him. He doesn't like the ugly things
of this world."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
It's a great old world, and If there'i
* better we've uevcr been la U.
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Matching Search Results
View five places within this issue that match your search.Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
The Hennessey Clipper (Hennessey, Okla.), Vol. 25, No. 42, Ed. 1 Thursday, March 25, 1915, newspaper, March 25, 1915; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc105965/m1/3/?q=wichita+falls: accessed June 22, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.