Oklahoma Labor Unit (Oklahoma City, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 25, Ed. 1 Saturday, December 6, 1913 Page: 2 of 8
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THE OKLAHOMA LABOR UNIT
BY Will Irwin
AUTHOR OF THE CITY THAT WAS, ETC.
illustrated bv Harry R.Grissinger
COPYRIGHT 1912. BOBBS-MERRILL C?
Tommy North, returning to his room In
Mr* Mu< ►re's boarding house nt 2 3* a m..
discovers the body of «'a|>t John Hanska.
another roomer, with a knife wound on
hie breast. Suspicion rent* upon a man
giving the name of Lawrence Wade, who
had called on Kanaka In the evening and
had been heard quarreling with Hanska
During the excitement a ntrange woman
who gives her nunm as H<>aalle I^eOrange.
api* ars and takes Into her own home
a< roaa the street all of Mr* Moore's
boarders. Including Miss Eatrllla. an In-
valid, who was confined to the room she
occupied and whose brother was a favor-
ite among the other boarders. Wade la
arreated aa he 1h about to leave the coun-
try. Mrs. LeG range. who, while plying
her trade aa it trance medium, had aide.*
J'ollce Inspector Martin McGee several
tlmea. calla at his office to tell what she
knows of the crime. While she la there.
Constance Kanaka, widow of the murder-
ad man. whose existence had been un-
known. appears Mrs. Kanaka, says she
had left her husband and discloses the
fact that Wade represented her and \ i*
Ited Kanaka on the night « f the murder i
In an effort to settle their affairs. She words by a flash of her dimples, 1
Wade was In love with her. Wade think you're awful stupid, Martin Mc-
ls held by the coroner s Jury for the death . , , . . . .
of Kanaka. Tommy North, who had been J Oeo, an sometimes I think you re a
held by the police, la released and re- wonder It'e generally according to
turns to Mrs LeOrange's house He be- 1 * ... .
comes Infatuated at once with Betsy Bar- whether or no you agree with me. As
bara. Driven _by tbe_bellef thatBetsy j you mostly do, 1 generally call you a
wonder. An' you've got get-there be-
"Getting tired?" she asked.
"No," he said. And then suddenly:
"Hose, why did you ever start it?"
"Being a medium, you mean?"
"Yes. The word was out of his lips
before wonder entered his mind.
"Now, how did you get that—what I
was thinking of? You make me won-
der If there ain't something In your
"Well," said Rosalie. "When you're
left an orphan at twelve—there ain't
much choice. Professor Vango adopt-
ed me—my mother was in his circle.
Old fake! But he had mediuinship.
too; an' he thought, an' I thought, he
brought somethln' out of me. Anyhow,
I saw things. So I became a medium,
like you became a cop—because it hap-
pened that way. Sometimes," added
Rosalie, drawing all sting from her
Barbara loves Estrilla Tommy North gets
drunk and Is discovered by Betsy Bar-
bara. The next morning Tommy apolo-
gizes to Betsy Barbara and at her urging
prepare* to eatabllah the Thomas \V.
North Advertising Agency.
"That's easy," said he. "They opened
the window. It was raining, wasn't
It? Well, the rain came in and stained
"I suppose so," said Rosalie. But
she made a minute examination. Let
ue violate for a second the privacy of
her mind. "Dear old dope!" It was
saying, "he hasn't thought to look Into
the weather that night. He don't know
It had cleared up and stopped rain-
ing for good when I came into the
house; and I saw them open the win-
"Well," she said aloud, "that's all for
the bed. Now let's see the furniture
an' his clothes an' everything."
It was half an hour before Rosalie
finished her search of the room. She
went over it Inch by inch, her Hps
pursed, her hands making quick flut-
ters of disgust over the dirt and dis-
order. She spoke little, and then as
though to herself. Inspector McGee,
Anally, gave up following her swift
movements, mental and physical, and
rested himself In a Morris chair. Hie
was a life of grim hard things; these
surroundings, depressing even to Rosa-
lie, were to him part of tho day's
work. And so he fell to watching not
the search for evidence but the figure
of Rosalie Le Grange. There was
something pleasing, and more than
pleasing, about this woman here. He
remembered how tho had appeared to
him ten years ago, when she began
flashing In and out of his life. He had
been sitting In another house of mur-
der, and he had seen her ctobb the
street. He had marked her then as "a
peach"—a little too plump for his Idea
of beauty, but pretty nevertheless. She
had brown hair then; and those big
gray eyes. The eyes remained as they
were, but there was a foam of white |
across her hair. The face had fallen
into a delicate ridge here and there,
though massage had taken care of the
wrinkles, which showed not as yet
Her flguro had broadened a little—yet
she still bore it wonderfully. The skin
of her long plump hands had begun to
gather about the knuckle*. And still i
—she appealed to him as she had nev- |
sides. Slow, but you do get there."
This bit of conversation fulfilled Ro-
salie's purpose. It turned the sub-
; Ject from herself to Inspector McGee's
self; and she knew from a life of ex-
i perlence that no man lives who can re-
! slet that lure.
I "How do you feel about me today?"
; he asked with heavy male coquetry.
"I haven't made up my mind today,"
she said, "but it's veerln' toward the
stupid." She crossed the room and
j fumbled with the catch of the south
window. He rose heavily to help her.
"No, thank you!" she said. "No.
thank you. I want to look over this
fire escape. I'm that old 1 can't go up
modest-like. It's enough to have the
stenographers rubberln' from these
windows, without you."
However, she inunaged with sur-
passing lightness the step from the
window to the Iron stairway, with as-
tonishing grace the ascent. She
threaded it to its top, viewing it nil in
a general way. Then she stopped, ma-
king a picture of herself as she bal
anced on the landing, and pulled out a
wire hairpin. This universal imple-
ment of the sex she twisted to suit
her purpose, and began a slow descent
picking at the interstices of the iron.
So she worked downward nearly one
flight before she came to a cake of
dirt in a corner of the iron steps. She
brushed It away and discovered a little
Irregularity in the metal. She picked
at this with her twisted hairpin. It
proved to be a loop of steel, somewhat
spotted, but still bright. She hooked
the pin Into the loop, and pulled. Some-
thing gave way. Out of a very small
hollow In the Iron step, which seemed
like a bubble left In the process of
casting, came a little hard ball. She
rubbed it with her hands, and polished
It with her handkerchief.
It was a red shoe button.
Rosalie Angered it, and glanced up-
ward. musing. Above, the iron stair-
way ran straight to the windows of the
lumber room. And that was the only
window from which it couid have fall-
en In such fashion as to strike the flre
escape. She knew from Mrs. Moore
that this room had been used for stor-
age during all of the last year. If a
previous tenant dropped It, the lac
quer would be gone or tarnished by
now. The other windows on the fourth
floor were cut off from view of the flre
escape by an irregularity of the wall.
From those windows, one could scarce-
I ly have thrown the button and hit that
spot on the flre escape—"let alone
droppln' It," thought Rosalie.
Rosalie wrapped the button in her
handkerchief and continued her search
Nothing heuvier than straws and
scraps of paper.
"Well, you never enn tell," she said
to herself as she straightened up on
the landing before Captain Hanska's
window; "let's see—who In my house
She stopped all motion here; and
since there was no need for conceal-
ment, her face showed the shock
which she felt Her eyes widened;
her Jaw dropped.
"Fm-hum!' she buzzed with the tone
of one who gathers the straws of sus-
picion Into a sheaf of fact.
And just then the voice of Inspector
McGee boomed from within.
"Pretty near through?" he asked.
"Much as I want," replied Rosalie,
voice and face falling at once into In-
difference. "Is there a place to wash
but what he had soared and took flight. In this house? Water ain't turned off
Suppose—then—when they were both yet? All right."
When, ten minutes later, she re-
ihe flight stopped there; the hird turned from the lavatory, marvelously
of Imagination fluttered to earth, killed freshened in appearance, the inspector
by an arrow of memory. This was- awaited her In the lower hall,
had always been—a medium, a profes- "l may be wanting to coine again,"
It Was a Red Shoe Button.
er appealed in those first days. He
had no great amount T)f imagination;
slonal faker. In their early acquaint
ance she had duped even him She
was next door to a crook; and he
dwelt so close to crooks as to have bis
tolerations, but also his prejudices.
No, she wasn't the kind for a man.
But It was a pity. The broad, sturdy
she said. "Will you let the cops know?"
"Well, how do I stack today?" asked
Martin McGee, "smart or stupid?"
"Kind of between," Jabbed Rosalie,
"but edgin' toward stupid still." She
smiled again over her shoulder; a dim
pie played and then another; a lock
police bosom of Martin McGee heaved of hair fell from it fastening over her
ward was It and yet so quick, he had
caught her in his arms and kissed her
heavily on the face.
Rosalie did not seem to struggle;
yet somehow, without haste, without
disarranging herself in one little Item,
she was free of hltn. The surge In
Martin McGee receded as rapidly as
it had risen. He stood blank, his color
"Martin McGee," said Rosalie Le
<irange, "you Jest cut that out!"
Moving the Pawns.
At breakfast next morning, Rosalie
opened her game—opened It like a
master of human chessmen, with a
trifling move or two of the pawns.
"Don't any of you people be as-
tonished," she said, "if your clothes
look strange and orderly when you get
home tonight. This is my day for
cleaning closets. 1 announce now that
If I find anything Isn't hung where It
ought to be, I'm going to set It right."
When they were gone, Rosalie I*e
Grange, refusing assistance from Mrw.
with a sigh
The sigh did not escape Rosalie L*>
Grange; little in her surroundings ever
escaped her. She appeared to come
out of her thought'ul mood, and her
And suddenly something happened;
something which Martin McGee, blush
ing over It later In silence and secrecy
could not himself account for. With
| the motion of a dancing bear, so awk
"What Do Your Spirits Say to You?"
Moore, put on dust-cap and long apron
and made good her word. But she did
more than clean. From Miss Hard-
ing's apartment on the ground floor to
Miss Estrilla's on the top, she exam-
ined minutely every garment and
every pair of shoes. When she had
finished, when she stood In her own
room dressing for the street, she
looked very serious. Before she put
away her house-dress, she took from
Its pocket the red shoe button. She
inspected it again, and locked it awav
in the deepest compartment of her
Rosalie walked briskly to a book-
store In the heart of the foreign dis-
trict, held short consultation with the
clerk. Journeyed another block, and
stood at length before a sign lettered
in many tongues. She hesitated and
began talking to herself.
"You can't teach an old dog new-
tricks," she remarked.
"Hut sometimes you can brush up
the old tricks he used to know," she
added. "It'll take time—well, any-
way, I'm here!" and she entered.
When she emerged, it lacked but
half an hour for lunch time. At the
table, she made subtle Inquiry about
the plans of her boarders for the day.
Mr. North, already busy with his
agency, had not come home to lunch
at all. Betsy-Barbara had an engage-
ment to help him select furniture. Con-
stance must spend the afternoon with
her lawyers. Professor Noll intended
to read a paper at the Health Food
conference. Miss Harding and Miss
Jones never came home between
breakfast and dinner time.
"Now's my chance—while the house
is empty an' my nerve's good," she
said to herself as the boarders depart-
Forthwith, Rosalie moved a major
piece. She mounted the stairs toward
Miss Estrilla's room. She was behav-
ing strangely. Her eyes looked far
away. Her manner seemed remote to
the things of this world As she
knocked and entered, she passed her
hand over her eyee. gave a little con-
vuleive Jerk, dropped her hand to her
side, and shook herself.
Miss Estrilla lay back among the
cushions In half-light. She seemed to
catch the strange new manner of Ro-
"What's the matter?" she asked.
Rosalie did not answer at once. She
gave a little stagger, sank down In a
chair, and began to murmur inarticu-
late syllables in a low and rather
"What has happened?" asked Miss
Estrilla again; and she spoke In real
Rosalie sat upright as with great
effort. Once or twice her hands
clasped and unclasped.
"Give me that glass of water," she
said In a half-whisper. She drank;
she wet her fingers and dabbed her
"Are you ill? Shall I send for some
one?" repeated Miss Estrilla.
"I'm better now," replied Rosalie In
a firm but rather sleepy voice. "It's
cruel to frighten you. But listen. I'm
In trouble in a way"—at this. Mise Es-
trilla settled back as though relieved,
somehow—"an' I've Just got to ask for
your help. Now please don't be
scared. It's really nothin'—only—well,
I've got to tell about It, I guess." All
the weariness of the world was in that
last phrase. "I git took this way some-
times. There's nothin' dreadful about
It when folks understand. Don't call
anybody, please don't. Jest stay where
you are. In a minute, I'll be goin' out
of myself—unconscious, you know. I'll
talk, probably. 1 may thrash around a
little. By an' by, I'll stop talkln' an'
be perfectly quiet—" Here Rosalie
shuddered three or four times again,
impersonated an effort of the will, and
went on: "Don't do anything to me
while I'm talkln'. But after I'm done
an' lay quiet, wait flve minutes. Then I
If I don't come to. spriukle water In j
my face, shake me—anything an'—
don't—tell—anybody—" These last
words died away In a crooning under-
tone. Rosalje sank deeper Into her
chair. Her eyes fixed on the distance.
Gradually, her lids fell. So she rested
for some time, immobile. Miss Estril-
la, sitting up on her couch, watched
Rosalie Intently. Now and then, Rosa-
lie noted, her breathing came In irreg-
ular little catches. From the cover
of her long eyelashes, best Instrument
of her trade, Rosalie stole a glance
which took In this constrained atti-
tude. She let her lids droop to a full
"Ugh—oh—ugh!" went Rosalie'B
voice finally; and at the deep tone, so
unlike Rosalie'e accustomed silvern
accents. Miss Estrilla started.
"Doctor Carver"—It was a deep male
voice which proceeded from Rosalie's !
entranced lips; this male voice of her i
had been the envy of her old contem-
poraries—"a—ah! Doctor Carver. I
come to speak of a young man. I see
him near this place. I see a struggle
about him. I see a glass of liquor on
one side of him and a woman's hand
on the other. He is drawing toward
the woman's hands. I see t\er more
clearly now. She has golden hair. I
see him working far into the night.
His hand is writing—ugh—" This was
a kind of shuddering groan "I am go-
ing!" Another silence. Then a light
flute-like voice—the accustomed tone
of Laughing-Eyes, Rosalie's famous
.child control, and the most artistic
thing she did.
"Flowers for a pretty lady!" came
the voice of Laughing-Eyes. "Pretty
lady Is sick. Pretty lady is crying. It's
bright here. And the spirits talk to
me. One. two, three spirits talk to
Laughing-Eyes. One of them wants
the pretty lady—oh, he's gone! He is
weak. 1 am weak—good-by—pretty—"
Rosalie'b lips closed, and she settled
down as though Into deeper sleep. She
waited through a space which seemed
eternity. Presently she heard a rust-
ling from the bed. Miss Eetrllla had
moved. Rosalie braced herself with-
in for the shock of cold water. But
Miss Estrilla only shook her. Rosalie
made a sleepy motion and became still
Miss Estrilla 6hook her again, and
called into her ear.
"Madame Le Grange—wake up!"
This time, Rosalie permitted her
eyes to open. She stared a moment
as at things remote, fetched another
shudder, sat bolt upright. Her first ex-
pression was bewildered; her second
startled. There followed every ap-
pearance of embarrassment and
'•Oh, what has happened?" she said.
"Don't you know?" asked Miss Ee-
trilla, regarding her narrowly.
"I remember coming in here," said
Rosalie, "an' I remember telling you
that I might go out—fall asleep." She
arose at this and began nervously to
pace the room.
"I've got to apologtEV he went on,
"I am—well, the last time I was took
this way, 1 went to my own room.
When I came to. It was dark—the ser-
vants thought I'd gone away an* for-
got to come home to dinner. I made
up my mind I wouldn't let It happen
again like that—an' you were the
only person In the house. Was I out—
"About six or seven minutes, I
think." said Miss Estrilla. Suddenly
she covered her eyes with their green
"What does it mean, all this?" she
"Poor dear, I believe I must hav®
bothered you with my talking—If I did
talk." She approached the bed, and
"Now I'm goln' to tell you all about
It," pursued Rosalie; "I must, of
course. It ain't right not to explain,
now I've made thle sceue. But you'll
be the only livln' soul around the
house that knows a thing, an' you'll
understand what I mean when I'm
through. Comln' right out with it, I've
been a medium—a spirit medium—all
my life. You know what that Is, don't
"Didn't know but you mightn't
Some folks don't, an' some hold a low
opinion of 'em. i do myself." Rosalie
paused. "That wa* why 1 cut It out,
maybe—that and the feelin' that my
powers was goin'. Well, one day comes
a legacy—money I'd never counted on
or expected. An' that happened Jest
when It seemed like my power had
grown weak an' I had to quit or be a
fake—because when people come an*
pay you two dollar® you have to de-
liver answers or you'll git no more
custom. So I Jest determined to drop
It all an' go to keepln' boarders with
Rosalie made the proper dramatic
pause here, and let her voice fall.
"You can't do a thing all your lVfe,
though, an' stop It right away. I hadn't
counted on that. I never could control
my trances exactly. They had a way
of comln' when they wanted to. You
can hold It off for a while, an' then—
its like holdln' ofT sleep. Twice be-
fore this week It's happened—I've told
you what I did tho second time, an'
how It scared me. An' Just now,
siandin' in the hall. I felt It comln'
on—strong. You know the rest. An'
I hope you'll excuee me—an' you
won't say a thing, will you?" Rosa-
lie's voice held all the pleading in the
Miss Estrilla, expressionless behind
her green shade, spoke in an even
and unemotional voice.
"And what do your spirits say to
' "To me?" replied Rosalie; "good-
ness, I don't know. I wish I did. I
have to find afterwards from other
people what I said or did. Well, I'm
as sorry as can be that I bothered you,
an' won't do it again, If I can help it.
Did I talk much?"
"Not a great deal. Something about
a young man and a young woman."
"Anybody In the house? Sometimes
— they tell me—my spirits talk about
folks a thousand miles away
sometimes about folks that are right
Miss Estrilla seemed to be consid-
ering this. When she spoke, her voice
was still even and perfectly con-
trolled; but she did not answer the
"You have been very kind," she
said, "and I don't see why you should
tell any one else. You may come here
whenever you feel that way. It would
be a pleasure to return your kind-
Rosalie sighed as in relief.
"My! That's good. I didn't want to
ask—It's a lot to ask of anybody—but
now you've offered, I'll take It. I've
been thlnkln' lately It would be a good
thing to let go of myself when I feel
It comin', an' get It off my system.
Was that the bell? Excuse me—I
ain't sure that lazy Molly will answer
It.—An' thank you, my dear."
The bell wa6 only a peddler. When
Rosalie had disposed of him, she con-
sulted her watch. Much remained of
"Good time to git in an hour'e ses-
sion with that darned phonograph,"
she said; and she took refuge In her
own big clothes-closet—which, exper-
iment had shown, was sound-proof.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
HOW TO PLACE THE MIRROR
One Should Be Hung in a Dark Hall
Where It Will Serve a Triple
Always place .a mirror In a dark
hall. If It can be so placed that It re-
flects the opening into the living or
drawlngroom, it will serve a triple pur-
pose—it will be a convenience to the
guests and members of the family
when they are starting out, it will In-
crease the light and it will make the
hall seem bigger.
In a living room place several mir-
rors, If the room is dark. Place them
In rather unexpected places. A long
narrow mirror can be hung length-
wise, perhaps In a corner beside a
door. Another mirror can be placed
on a wall opposite a window and so
will reflect the garden or tree6 or sea
or street and give the room apparent-
ly another window. Another mirror
can be placed at such an angle that It
will not necessarily reflect the people
sitting about the flre. The object of
living room mirrors 1s not to give re-
flections of the persons in the room,
and such reflections are sometimes an
In bedrooms and dressing rooms mir-
rors cannot be too many. A pier glass
Is convenient, and especially desira-
ble because It can be placed across a
comer of the room' or In some other
position which makes It of decorative
value. But far more practical In
6mall room—and cheaper, too—is the
mirror fastened to the door. It should
be held In place by the wooden panel*
Held to Their Carriage.
A man seated in his own private
carriage placed upon a track at the
end of a railway train would prob-
ably be considered a bit of a crank
nowadays. Yet It was quite a com-
mon occurrence within the memory of
many people still living The late
duke of Portland always traveled in
that way between Welbeck and Lon-
don. And in Notes and Queries the
Rev. Sir David Hunter-Blalr tells a
story of a gentleman he knew In his
youth who was wont to go from Lon-
don to Brighton in the same fashion.
Once the truck at the end of the train
got disconnected in a tunnel, leav-
ing the exclusive passenge. seated
stationary In his carriage—also in
darkness and peril.
mm i >m
Mother's gettln' thin and ao
She a (jult appearln' aad.
She sings all day to let us know
That she Is feelin' glad.
Father's work Is hard to do;
He makes an early start
And comes home when the day Is thro
Worn out and sad at heart.
His clo's are old and out of style.
He wears his last year's hat,
For mother's had to spend a pile
To keep from befn* fat.
He scolds around a lot 'cause I'm
So hard on pants and shoes,
And every day, 'most all the time.
He seems to have the blues.
Before he gets one month's bills paid
The next month's bills come In;
l^it mother says she's not dismayed—
She's glad and gettln' thin.
She does not care about the cost
When there's a goal to seek:
For nearly four weeks now she's lost
Almoat a pound a week.
The Poet's Mission.
"I can't see," the poet's wife com-
plained, "why you don't give up writ-
ing poetry and go in for something
that might be more profitable."
"My dear, you don't understand the
"I suppose I don't. I wish you'd tell
me what It Is."
"Can't you see how great a boon I
am conferring upon posterity? A
hundred years from now orators will
be quoting my lines without mention-
ing me, and It will be supposed that
they themselves are the authors of
them, just as orators of the present
day embellish their speeches with
quotations from poets who have long
been dead, without taking the trouble
to mention the fact that they wera
"But how will that help you?"
"It won't help me at all. But do
you want oratory to become a lost
AN INCONSIDERATE HUSBAND.
"Oh, dear, ex-
cuse me," she
said, after at-
tempting for the
third time to liide
a yawn. "I had
hardly any sleep
"I hope the baby
wasii t ill, her friend replied.
"No, my husband sat up until near-
ly one o'clock reading a novel, and it
was almost two before I could be
sure he was sound enough asleep to
make It safe for me to search his
pockets. Some men have absolutely
no consideration for their wiv(*j."
"I was the victim of a painful sui>
prise last night."
"How was that?"
"At dinner I sat next to a Boston
girl, and, supposing she would be
frigid, I asked her to cool my soup a
little by blowing on it."
"I was roasted to a cinder."
Look before you leap, young man.
But keep this fact In mind;
The ones who never leap at all
Are those who are obscure and small
And left to lag behind.
Cross no bridge ere it Is renched,
But, young man, don't forget
That there are bridges to be crossed;
The ones on whfm this fact Is lost
Are likely to get wet.
"Well, we have been engaged for a
"Yes, it was just a week ago tonlghf
that you asked me to be yours."
"Have you told anybody?"
"Not a soul."
"Then I'm afraid I'll have to give
you up. I don't want to marry a
A Future Possibility.
"What's the matter with the 4:30
aeroplane? It's 20 minutes late."
"The chief aviator has just informed
me by wireless," replied the station
agent, "that they've been held up by
a lone aerial highwayman."
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Zeigler, C. C. Oklahoma Labor Unit (Oklahoma City, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 25, Ed. 1 Saturday, December 6, 1913, newspaper, December 6, 1913; Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc157177/m1/2/: accessed September 22, 2018), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.