The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 4, No. 29, Ed. 1 Wednesday, July 12, 1916 Page: 2 of 4
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NORMAN DAILY TRANSCRIPT
To this day, Average Jones main.
tains that he felt a distinct thrill at
flret sight of the advertisement. Yet
fate might well have chosen a more
appropriate ambush in anyone of a
hundred of the strange clippings which
were grist to the Ad-VlBor's mill. Out
of a bulky pile of the day's paragraphs,
however, it was this one that leaped,
significant, to his eye:
wanted-ten thousand i,oatin/r
black beetles, by a leaseholder who con-
tracted to leave a houie In the pame con-
dition en he found It. Ackroyil, 100 W.
Sixteenth St.. New York.
"Black beetles, eh?" observed Aver-
age Jones. "This Ackroyd person
seems to be a merry little Jester. \V oil,
I'm feeling rather Jocular, myself, this
tnorning. How does one collect black
beetles, I wonder? When In doubt,
Inquire of the resourceful Simpson."
He pressed a button and his con-
fidential olerk entered.
"Good morning, Simpson," said Av-
erage Jones. "Are you acquainted
with that shy but pervasive animal,
the domestic black beetle?"
"Yes, sir; 1 board," Simpson simply.
"1 suppose there aren't ten thousand
black beetles in your boarding houso,
though?" Inquired Average Jones.
Simpson took It under advisement.
"Haplly," he decided.
11 "I've got to have 'em to fill an or-
der. At least, I've got to have an in-
stallment of 'em, and tomorrow."
"Ramson, down on Fulton Btreet,
will have them, If anyone has," Simp-
ton said presently.
| Returning to his routine work, Av-
erage Jones found himself unable to
dislodge the advertisement from his
mind. So presently he gave way to
temptation, called up Bertram at the
Cosmic club, and asked him to como
to the Astor Court temple offices at
bis convenience. Scenting more ad
venture, Bertram found it convenient
to come promptly. Average Jones
handed him the clipping. Bertram
read it with ascending eyebrows.
"What's at One Hundred West Six-
teenth street?" demanded Jones.
"One Hundred West Sixteenth; let
me see. Why, of course; it's the old
Keltner mansion. You must know It
It has a walled garden at the side
the only one left in the city, Bouth of
"Anyone named Ackroyd there?"
. "That must be Hawley Ackroyd. I
remember, now, hearing that he had
rented it. Judge Ackroyd, you know
better known as 'Oily' Ackroyd. He'
a smooth old rascal."
f, "Ever hear of his collecting in
"Never heard of his collecting any-
thing but graft. In fact, he'd have
been in Jail years ago, but for his fam
fly connections. He married a Van
Haltern. You remember the famous
Van Haltern will case, surely; the
million-dollar dog. The papers fairly
reeked of it a year ago. Sylvia Ora
ham had to take the dog and leave
the country to escape the notoriety,
Bhe's back now, I believe."
"I've heard of MIbs Graham," re-
marked Average Jones.
"Well, if you've only heard of her
and not seen her," returned Bertram,
with something as nearly resembling
enthusiasm as his habitual languor
permitted, "you've got something to
look forward to. Sylvia Graham is a
distinct asset to the Scheme of Crea-
"An asset with assets of her own, I
believe," said Average Jones. "The
million dollars left by her grandmoth-
er, old Mrs. Van Haltern, goes to her
eventually, doesn't it?"
"Provided she carries out the terms
of the Will, keeps the dog in proper
luxury and buries him in the grave
on the family estate at Schuylkill des-
ignated by the testator. If these terms |
are not rigidly carried out, the for- j
tune is to be divided, most of it go- j
lng to Mrs. Hawley Ackroyd, which
would mean the judge himself."
"H'm. What about Mrs. Ackroyd?"
"Poor, sickly, 1 ^htened lady! She's
very fond of Sylvia Graham, who Is
her niece. But she's completely domi-
nated by her husband."
"Information is your long suit, Bert.
Now, if you only had intelligence to
correspond—" Average Jones broke
off and grinned mildly, first at his
friend, then at the advertisement.
Bertram caught up the paper and
studied it. "Well, what does it mean?"
"It means that Ackroyd, being about
to give up his rented house, intends
to saddle it with a bad name."
"It would be Just like Oily Ack-
royd," remarked Bertram. "He's a
•vindictive scoundrel. Only a few days
ago. he nearly killed a poor devil of a
drug d«rk. over some trifling dispute.
He managed to it oot of the
newspapers but he had to pay a stiff
"That m4glit be worth looking up,
too,' ruminated Average Jones
He turned to his telephone in an-
swer to a ring. "All right, come in,
Simpson," he said.
The conildentlal clerk appeared.
Ramson says that regular black bee-
tles are out of season, sir," he re-
ported. "But ho can send to the
country and dig up plenty of red-and-
"That will do," returned the Ad-
Visor. "Tell him to have two or three
hundred here tomorrow morning."
Thus is was that, on the morning
after this dialogue, a clean built
young follow walked along West Six-
teenth street. Ho was rather shabby-
looking. On the evidence of the band-
box which ho carried, his mission
should have been menial; but he bore
himself wholly unliko one subdued to
petty employments. His steady, gray
eyes showed a glint of anticipation as
he turned in at the gate of tho high,
broad, brown house standing back,
aloof and indignant, from the roaring
encroachments of trade. He set his
burden down and pulled the bell.
Tho door opened promptly to the
deep, far-away clangor. A flashing
Impression of girlish freshness, vigor,
and grace was disclosed to the caller
against a background of Interior
gloom. The girl glanced not at him
but at the box, and spoke a trifle Im-
"If it's ray hat, it's very late."
"It isn't, miss. It's the insects."
"The bugs, miss."
He extracted from his pocket a slip
of paper, looked from it to the num-
bered door, as one verifying an ad
dress, and handed It to her.
Prom yesterday's copy of the Ban-
ner, miss. You're not going back on
that, surely," he said somewhat re
She read, and as she read her eyes
widened to lakes of limpid brown
Then they crinkled at the corners,
and her laugl arose from the mid-
tone contralto, to a high, birdlike trill
"It must have been uncle," she
gasped finally. "He said he'd be quits
with the real estate agent before he
left. How perfectly absurd! And
are those the creatures In that box?
The first couple of hundred of
era, Miss Ackroyd."
The girl looked at him with suspi-
cion, but his face was blankly inno-
I'm not Miss Ackroyd," she began
with emphasis, when a querulous
voice from an inner room called out
Whom are you talking to, Sylvia?"
"A young man with a boxful of
beetles," returned tho girl.
Averago Jones mutely held up the
box in one hand and the advertise-
ment in the other.
Very well," said the girl, in demure
tones, though lambent mirth still flick-
ered, golden, in the depths of tho
brown eyes. "If you persist, I can
only suggest that you come back when
Judge Ackroyd is here. You won't
find him particularly amenable to hu-
mor, particularly when perpetrated by
a practical Joker in masquerade."
'Discovered," murmured Average
I don't ask any real reason for
your extraordinary call," pursued the
girl with a glint of mischief in her
eyes, "but auntie thinks you've come
to steal my dog. She thinks that of
"Auntie? Your dog? Then you're
Sylvia Graham. I might have known
"I don't know how you might have
known it. But I am Sylvia Graham
if you insist on introducing me to
"Miss Graham," said the visitor
promptly and gravely, "let me present
A. V. R. E. Jones, a friend—"
"Not the famous Average Jones!"
cried the girl. "That is why your
face seemed so familiar. I've seen
your picture at Edna Hale's. You got
her 'blue fires' back for her. But
really, that hardly explains your be-
ing here, in this way, you know."
"Nothing simpler. Once upon a time
there lived a crack-brained young Don
Quixote who wandered through an age
of buried romance piously searching
for trouble. And, twice upon a time,
there dwelt in an enchanted Btone
castle in West Sixteenth street an en
chanting young damsel in distress
"I'm not a damsel in distress," in
terrupted Miss Graham, pausing over
The young man leaned to her. The
half smile had passed from his lips,
and his eyes were very grave.
••Not—er—if your dog were to—er—
disappear?" he drawled quietly.
The swift unexpectedness of the
counter broke down the girl's guard.
"You mean Uncle Hawley," sho said.
"And your suspicions Jump with
What do you know about fncle
"I won't hear a word against my
"Not from me, be assured. Your
aunt, so you have Just told me, be-
lieves that your dog is in danger of
being stolen. Why? Because she
knows that the person most interested
has been scheming against the ani-
mal, and yet sho Is afraid to warn
you openly. Doesn't that Indicate who
"Mr. Jones, I've no right even to let
you talk like this to me. Have you
anything definite against Judge Ack-
"In this case, only suspicion."
Her head went up. "Then I thln/c
there is nothing more to be said."
The young mas Hushed, but his
roice was steady as he returned:
1 disagree with you. And I beg you
to cut short your visit here, and re-
turn to your homo at once."
In spite of herself the girl was sha-
ken by his persistence.
I can't do that," she said uneasily.
And added, with a flash of anger, "I
think you had better leave this house."
if I leave this bouse now I may
never have a chance to see you again."
The girl regarded bim with level,
And I have every intention of see-
ing you again—and again—Rnd again.
Give me a chance; a moment."
Average Jones' mind was of the em-
ergency type. It summoned to its aid,
without effort of cerebration on the
part of its owner, whatever was most
needed at the moment. Now it came
to his rescue with the memory of
Judge Ackroyd's encounter with the
drug clerk, as mentioned by Bertram,
Miss Graham, I've gone rather far,
1*11 admit," said Jones; "but, if you'll
give me the benefit of the doubt, I
think I can show you some basis to
work on. If I can produce something
tangible, may I come back this after-
noon? I'll promise not to come unless
I have good reason."
Somewhat to her surprise and un
easiness, Sylvia Graham experienced a
distinct satisfaction when, late that
afternoon, she beheld her unconven-
tional acquaintance mounting the
steps with a buoyant and assured step.
Upon being admitted, he went prompt-
ly to the point.
"I've got it."
"Your Justification for coming
back?'' sho asked.
Exactly. Have you heard anything
of some trouble in which Judge Ack-
royd was involved last week?"
Uncle has a very violent temper,"
admitted the girl evasively. "But I
don't Bee what—"
"Pardon me. You will see. That
row with a drug clerk."
"The drug clerk insisted—as the law
requires—on Judge Ackroyd register-
ing for a certain purchase."
"Perhaps he was impertinent about
"Possibly. The point is that the
prospective purchase was cyanide of
potassium, a deadly and instantaneous
"Are you sure?" asked the girl, in a
"I've Just come from the store. How
long have you been here at your un-
"Then Just about the time of your
coming with the dog. your uncle un-
dertook to obtain a swift and sure
poison. Have I gone far enough?"
"I—I don't know."
"What is your uncle's attitude tow-
ard the dog?"
"Almost what you might call Ingra-
tiating. But Peter Paul—that's my
dog's name, you know—doesn't take
"He b a wise old doggie," amended
the other with emphasis. "When does
your uncle give up this house?"
"At the end of the week. Uncle
and aunt leave for Europe."
"Then let mo suggest again that you
and Peter Paul go at once."
Miss Graham pondered. "No, I can't
Now, Miss Graham, would it grieve
you very much if Peter Paul were to
I won't have him put to death,"
said she quickly.
"Miss Graham," he said slowly,
'won't you try to forget, for the mo-
ment, the circumstances of our meet-
ing, and think of me only as a friend
of your friends who is very honestly
eager to be a friend to you, when you
most need one?"
Tho girl's gaze met the man's level,
and was held in a long, silent regard.
"Yes," she said simply.
"Listen, then. I think I see a clear
way. Judge Ackroyd will kill the dog
if he can, and so effectually conceal
the body that no funeral can be held
over it, thereby rendering your grand-
mother's bequest to you void. He has
only a few days to do it in, but I
don't think that all your watchfulness
can restrain him. Now, on the other
hand, if the dog should die a natural
death and be buried, he can still con
test the will. But if he should kill
Peter Paul and hide the body where
we could discover it, tho game would
be up for him, as he then wouldn't
even dare to come Into court with a
contest. Do you follow me?"
"Yes. But you wouldn't ask me to
be a party to any such thing."
"You're a party, involuntarily, by
remaining hero. But do your best to
save Peter Paul, if you will. And
please call me up immediately at the
Cosmic club, if anything turns up.
And, by the way, my beetles. I forgot
and left them here. Oh, there's the
box. I may have a very specific use
for them later. Au revolr—and may
It be soon!"
Tho two days succeeding seemed to
Average Jones, haunted as ho was by
an importunate craving to look again
into Miss Graham's limpid and change-
ful eyes, a dull and sodden period of
probation. The messenger boy who
finally brought her expected note,
looked to him like a Greek godling.
The note inclosed this clipping:
Av«*rnge Jones could, and did. He
found Miss Graham's piquant face un-
der the stress of excitement, distinctly
more alluring than before.
"Isn't it strange?" she said, holding
out a hand in welcome. "Why should
anyone advertise for my Peter Paul?
Ho isn't lost."
"I am glad to hear that," said the
Do you know what that advertise-
'Perfectly. 1 wrote it."
'Wrote it! You? Well—really!
Why in the world did you write it?"
'Because of an unconquerable long-
ing to see"—Average Jones paused,
and his quick glance caught tho storm
signal in her eyes—"your uncle," he
She rang the bell, dispatched a serv-
ant, and presently Judge Ackroyd
stalked into the room.
"What is tho market quotation on
belles, judge?" asked the young man,
tapping the rug with his stick.
"What are you talking about?" de-
manded tho other, drawing down his
"The black beetle; the humble but
brisk haunter of household crevices,"
explained Average Jones. "You adver-
tised for ten thousand specimens. I've
got a few thousand I'd like to dispose
of, if the inducements are sufficient."
"I'm in no mootf for Joking, young
man," retorted the other, rising.
"You seldom are, I understand," re-
plied Average Jones blandly. "Well
If you won't talk about bugs, let's talk
"The topic does not interest me,
sir," retorted the ojher, and the glance
of his eye was baleful, but uneasy.
The tapping of the youug man's
cane ceased. He looked up into his
host's glowering face with a seraphic
and Innocent smile.
"Not even if it—er—touched upon a
device for guarding the street corners
in caee—er—Peter Paul went walking
—er—once too often?"
She clung in his mind like s remem-
bered fragrance, after he had gone
back to Astor Court temple to wait
Nor had he banished them, when, two
days later, the telephone brought him
her clear accents- a little tremulous
"Peter Paul Is gone."
"Since ten this morning. The house
Ib in an uproar."
"I'll be up in half an hour at the
latest. Let me in at the basement
door at half-past one. Judge Ackroyd
mustn't see me."
It was a strangely misshapen pres-
entation of tho normally spick-and-
span Average Jones that gently rang
the basement bell of the old house at
the specified hour. All his pockets
bulged with lumpy angles. Immediate-
ly, upon being admitted by Miss Gra-
ham herself, he proceeded to disem-
burden himself of box after box, such
as elastic bands come in, all exhibit-
ing a homogeneous peculiarity, a hole
at one end thinly covered with a gelat-
"Be very careful not to let that get
broken," ho Instructed the mystified
girl. "In the course of an hour or so
it will melt away itself. Did you see
anything suspicious in the garden?"
"No!" replied the girl. She picked
up one of the boxes. "How odd!" she
cried. "Why, there's something in it
"Very much so. Your friends, the
beetles, in fact. Where is your
"Upstairs in his study."
"Do you think you could take me all
through the house sometime this after-
noon without his seeing me?"
"No, I'm sure I couldn't. He's been
wasderlng like an uneasy spirit since
Peter Paul disappeared. And he won't
go out, because he Is packing."
"So much the worse, either for him
or me. Where are your rooms?"
"On the second floor."
"Very well. Now, I want one of
house's old bones. Before the fafles
man could gather his shaken wits, hs j
was pinned with the most disabling
grip known in the science of combat. ;
a strangle hold with the assailant •
wrist clamped below and behind th j
ear. Average Jones lifted his voles
and the name that came to his lips
was the name that had lurked sub-
consciously, in his heart, for days.
"Sylvia!" he cried. "The fourtt
"The mirror," said Average Jones
'Tush it aside. Pull it down."
With an efTort of nervous strength,
the girl lifted aside the big glass. Be-
hind it a hundred scarlet-banded in-
sects swarmed and scampered.
"Unless my little detectives have de-
ceived me," Jones said,
tho body in there."
MR. SUN GETS UP.
"King Rex, the Roostor," Bald Daddy,
"was in a great hurry to get Mr. Sun
" 'You're very lazy,' said King Rex.
'Don't you know I've been crowing and
crowing for you ever so long, those
j Cows In the barn want to get out In
Ihetr day playground, the pasture, and
you'll And'! the Hens and all the little Chickens
are in a great hurry to be up. Don't
She groped, and drew forth a large j be so selfish, Mr. Sun.
box. In it was packed the body of "A bright, rosy light began to ap-
Peter Paul. There was a cord about j pear, but still Mr. Sun stayed behind
the fat neck. I a hill. Somehow he couldn't get up
"Strangled," whispered tue girl, in a hurry as King Rex wanted him to.
"Poor old doggie!" Then she whirled I He was very, very Bleepy. He did wish
upon the prostrate man. "You mur-
Mr. Moon would not always be so ant*
It's the Insects."
derer!" she said very low.
It's not murder to put a dying
brute out of the way," said the shaken
"But it's fraud, In this case," retort-
ed Average Jones. "A fraud of which
you're self-convicted. Get up."
There was no more fight In Judge
"Oily" Ackroyd. He slunk to the stair*
and limped heavily down to his fright-
ened and sobbing wife.
"Do you mind my saying," Bald
Jones, "that you are the bravest and
lous to get to bed. That made all
the farmyard Animals so eager to
wake him up, for they didn't care
about Mr. Moon, and they seemed to
be quite glad when he went to bed.
"Now, Mr. sun was t«lklng and talk-
ing to himself, half asleep ail the
time, and such a noise as was going
on in the barnyard and in the barn
where the Cows were waiting to be
allowed to go out Into the pastore.
•' 'Think of someone beside yourseli",
said King Rex. 'Now look at me.' Mr.
lineBt human being I've met in | Sun hadn't the least desire to look
a-a-somewhat varied career?" j at King Rex. He didn't see any dif-
The girl shuddered, "I could have i ference between his crown and that of
atood it all," she said, "hut for thoa*
awful, crawling, red creatures."
"Those?" said Average Jones. "Why,
they were my bloodhounds, my little
"And what are they?"
"Carrion beetles," said Average
Jones. "Where the vultures of the In-
sect kingdom are gathered together,
there the quarry Ilea."
Sylvia Graham drew a long breath.
any other Rooster. It was only King
Rex's great conceit that made him
call himself a King, and make all
the other barnyard Animals think he
was the finest Rooster they had ever
"But King Rex continued. 'Now 1
will crow three times—then four times
—then five tlmse—then six times. And
if, by that time, you're not up, I'll—I'll
—I'll—well, I'll do it all over again!'
"I'm all right now," she pronounced. ' And the Rooster began to crow and
"There's nothing left, I suppose, but \ all his relations began to crow, too,
Judge Ackroyd took one step for-
ward. Average Jones was on his feet
instantly, and, even in her alarm,
Sylvia Graham noticed how swiftly
and naturally his whole form "set."
But tho big man turned away, and
abruptly left the room.
"You spoke of having someone
guard the corners of the block," re-
marked the girl, after a thoughtful si-
lence. "Do you think I'd better ar-
range tor that?"
"No Indeed. There'll be a hundred
people on watch."
He handed her a galley proof
marked with many corrections. She
ran through it with growing amaze-
HAVE YOU SEEN THE DOG?
$100—One Hundred Doliars-$100
For the Best Answer in 500
Open to All High School Boya
Between row and next Saturday an .
old Pug Dog will L'ome out of a
big House on West Sixteenth v
Street, between Fifth and Sixth
Avenue. It may be by day. It may
be any hour of the Night. Now,
you Boys, get to work.
Remember: $100 In Cash
Open to All High School Boya
1—Description of Dog.
2—Description of Person with him.
... l- *• a .3
-Description of Houso he Comes
from. . _
Account of Where they Go.
Account of What they Do.
Manuscript? must bo written
plainly and mailed within twenty-
four hours of the discovery of the
A. JONES: AD-VISOR,
Astor Court Temple, New York
LOST—PCO POO ANSWKRINO TO
the name of Peter Paul. \ < ry old anil
asthmatic. Last seen on West Sixteenth
Btreet. Liberal reward fur Information
to Anxious. Care of Banner office.
"Dear Mr. Jones (she had written):
"Are you a prophet? (Average
Jones chuckled at this point.) The in-
closed seems to be distinctly in our
line. Could you come some time this
afternoon? I'm puzzled and a little
anxious. Sincerely yours,
"That "will appear in every New
York paper tomorrow morning," ex-
plained its deviser.
"I see," said the girl. "Anyone who
attempts to take Peter Paul away will
he tracked by a band ot boy detec-
tives. A stroke of genius, Mr. Aver-
She curtsied low to him. But Av-
erage Jones was in no mood for play-
"That restricts the judge's endeav-
ors to the house and garden," said he,
"since, of course he'll see the adver-
"I'll see that he does," said Miss
"Good! I'll also ask you to watch
the garden for any suspicious excavat-
ing." , .
"What am I to do next?" she asked.
"Do as you would ordinarily do;
only don't take Peter Paul into tho
street, or you'll have a score of high-
school boyB trailing you."
these little boxe9 left in every room
in the house, if possible, except on
your floor, which is probably out of
the reckoning. Do you think you
could manage it soon?"
"I think so. I'll try."
"I'll be here at four o'clock, and will
call for Judge Ackroyd. You must be
sure that he receives me. Tell him it
is a matter of great Importance. It
With even more than his usual nice-
ty was Average Jones attired, when,
at four o'clock, he sent his card to
Judge Ackroyd. Small favor, however,
did his appearance find, in the scowling
eyes of the Judge.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"I'll take a cigar, thank you very
much," said Average Jones innocently.
"You'll take your leave, or state
"It has to do with your niece."
"Then what do you take my time
for, damn your impudence?"
"Don't swear." Average Jones was
deliberately provoking the older man
to an outbreak. "Let's—er—sit down
The drawl, actually an evidence of
excitement, had all the effect of stud-
ied insolence. Judge Ackroyd's big
"I'm going to k-k-klck you out into
the street, you young p-p-p-pup," he
stuttered in his rage.
His knotted fingers writhed out for a
hold on the other's collar. With a
sinuous movement, the visitor swerved
aside and struck the other man, fiat-
handed, across the face. There was
an answering howl of denKiiac fury.
Then a strange thing happened. The
assailant turned and fled, not to the
ready egress of the front door, but
down the dark stairway to the base-
ment. The judge thundered after, in
maddened, unthinking pursuit. Aver-
age Jones ran fleetly and easily. And
his running was not for the purpose
of flight alone, for as he sped through
the basement rooms, he kept casting
swift glances from side to side, up
and down the walls. Judge Ackroyd
trailed his quarry like a bloodhound
through every room of the third floor,
and upward to tho fourth.
The fourth floor of the old house
was almost bare. In a hall-embrasure
hung a full-length mirror. All along
the borders of this, Average Jones'
quick-ranging vision had discerned
small red-banded objects which moved
and shifted. As the glass reflected
his extended figure, it showed, almost
at the same instant, the outstretched,
bony hand of "Oily" Ackroyd. With a
snarl, half rage, half satisfaction, the
pursuer hurled himself forward—and
fell, with a plunge that rattled the
to leave this house. And to thank
you. How am I ever to thank you?"
She lifted her eyes to his.
"Never mind the thanks/' said Av-
erage Jones unevenly. "It was noth-
'It was—everything! It was won-
derful!" cried the girl, and held out
her slender hands to him.
As they clasped warmly upon his,
Average Jones' reason lost its balance.
Bending over the little, clinging hands,
he pressed his lips to them. Only for
a moment. The hands slipped from his.
There was a quick, frightened gasp,
and the girl's face, all aflush with a
new, sweet fearfulness and wondering
confusion, vanished behind a pondar-
ous swinging door.
Tho young man's knees shook a lit'
tie as he walked forward and put his
lips close to the lintel.
There was a faint rustle from with-
"I'm sorry. I mean, I'm glad. Glad-
der than of anything I've ever done in
Silence from within.
"Listen, there mustn't be any mlsun
derstanding about this, dear. If you
send for me, it must be because you
want me; knowing that, when I come,
I shall come for you. Good-by, dear."
"Good-by." It was the merest whis-
per from behind the door.
Two days later he sat at his desk,
and Mr. Sun did move quite a way up
behind the hill for the barnyard crea-
Vlr. Sun Hadn't the Least Desire to
Look at King Rex.
tures could see tho reflection and it
began to grow brighter and brighter.
" 'He's coming,' cackled some Hens.
" 'He's coming,' quacked some
" 'He's coming,' grunted some Pigs.
" 'He's coming,' brayed two Donkeys.
" 'He's coming,' gobbled three Tur-
And from the barn came forth
strange sounds that seemed very much
in a murk of woe. No word nor sign like 'Moo-moo,' but which really meant,
had come to him from Miss Sylvia Gra- He's coming.'
ham. He frowned heavily as Simpson " 'Well, I can see quite plainly that
entered the inner sanctum with the it's very mean of me to stay in bed
usual packet of clippings. my longer—though 1 do love Uis time
"Leave them," he ordered. 3f the year for sleeping. I feel so-
"Yes, sir." The confidential clerk lazy.'
lingered, looking uncomfortable. "Any<
thing from yesterday's lot, sir?"
"Haven't looked them over yet."
"Or day before's?"
"Haven't taken those up either.*
'Why, no you don't at all,' shouted
some Dewdrops, 'you drive Mr. Moon
away in the rudest possible manner—
j and as for those little Stars, you really
I are very unkind to them to make them
If I might suggest, there's a very leave the sky so soon, and it's just
interesting advertisement in yester- pretense on your part when you say
day's paper repeated this morn—" j you hate to get up.'
"I don't want to see it." " 'That's true. 1 think I want to ^
"No, sir. But—but still—it it seems get up ever so early and then I am
to have a strange reference to the sorry I've been so impatient an'' 1
burial of the million-dollar dog, and think another little snooze wo^vin't
an invitation that I thought—" I hurt at all.'
"Where is it? Give it to me!" For " 'Is it time to get up?' asked one
once in his life, high pressure of ex- little Morning Glory of another as
citement had blotted out Average it opened up just the least little bit.
Jones' drawl. His employee thrust " 'Almost,' said a big, dark purple
into his band this announcement from Morning Glory.
the Banner of that morning: "And when Mr. Sun heard the Morn-
DIED—AT loo WEST SIXTEENTH , l°g Glories talking, up above tho hill
street. September 14, Peter Paul, a dog, he came and began shining with all his
might, for now he was wide,
"The Animals chatted and made
great deal of noise, the Flowers opened"
their sleepy eyes, and Biniled, and
" 'Good morning, Mr. Sun. What a
beautiful day it is, and what a hand-
some suit you're wearing today. We
do like bright colors, you know.'
"But in a little room in the house
near the barnyard a small Boy had
been dreaming wondrous dreams. 'Oh
dear,' he sighed, I never can sleep a
wink after the Sun comes in my win-
dow. I suppose I must get up and let
the Cows out of the barn. Oh, dear,
or dear, how -I do wish the Sun
I wouldn't rise so early in tho Summer
! —when I ought to sleep after the long
I year of lessons I've had.' And sleep-
ily he got out of bed.
" 'Well,' said Mr. Sun. 'Did anyone
ever hear of such a funny earth?
When I don't shine they abuse me,
and when I do shine they say they
wish I'd sleep longer. There's no sat-
isfying everyone it appears. I'd like
to take a day ofT and call down tho
Rain Drops—but that'll do now for an-
for many years the faithful and fond
companion of the late Amelia Van Hal-
tern. Burial In accordance with the wish
and will of Mrs. Van Haltern, at the fam-
ily estate, Schuylkill, September 17, at
three o'clock. Ills friend, Don Quixote, '
is especially bidden to come. If he will.
Average Jones leaped to his feet
"Where's my hat? Where's the time-
table? Get a cab! Simpson, you idiot,
why didn't you make me read this be-
fore, confound you! I mean God bless
you. Your salary's doubled from to-
day. I'm off."
'Yes, sir," said tho bewildered Simp-
Miss Sylvia Graham looked down
upon a slender finger ornamented with
the oddest and the most appropriate
of engagement rings, a scarab beetle
red-banded with three deep-hued
"But, Average," she said, and the
golden laughter flickered again In the
brown depths of her eyes, "not even
you could expect a girl to accept a
man through a keyhole."
"I suppose not," Bald Average Jones
with a sigh of profoundest content.
"Some a for privacy in these mat-
ters; others for publicity. But I tup-
pose I'm the first man in history who
ever got his heart's answer in an ad-
(CosyrUht. The Bobba-MerrtM CompaayJ
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Burke, J. J. The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 4, No. 29, Ed. 1 Wednesday, July 12, 1916, newspaper, July 12, 1916; (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc113255/m1/2/: accessed January 20, 2018), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.