The Bixby Bulletin (Bixby, Okla.), Vol. 10, No. 37, Ed. 1 Friday, November 13, 1914 Page: 3 of 8
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THE BIXBY BULLETIN
M *
k
The Governor's
T f A Novelization of
Alice BTadley's Play
<B? GERTRUDE STEVENSON
Illustrations from Photographs of the Stage Production
OopTflihtiUW (PabUcaUon MjtttB—rrod) by PmMMmw.
CHAPTER IX—Continued.
"Mrs. Slade.” Merritt began, and
took a quick, apprehensive look In the
direction of the kitchen. "Take a hint
from me! You give it to him! Soak
It to him! He’s used you like a dog!
I came here today to find out If you
meant to fight him. I had an Idea
that you did. I’ll help you do him up.”
“You’re talking against the man I
lived with most of my life,” and she
fixed an angry eye on him. "You get
right out of my house, ‘sir.’’
“But—” protested Merritt, rielng.
"Go right along, sir! Go along!"
and Mary raised her voice as her tem-
per got the better of her.
Hayes, hearing the loud tones, ap-
peared at the kitchen door munching
a biscuit
"How dare you!” he heard Mary ex-
clalm. “You can't abuse my husband
to me!"
Merritt looked once at Hayes and
once at Mary. Then he went
Hayes stood taking large bites out
of the biscuit, looking at Mary with
an amused smile.
“I’ll say all I want about Slade,”
Mary sputtered. "But I wont let any-
one else do it"
‘T’ve noticed that” returned Hayes,
dryly-
“And I can tend to my own affairs,
too.”
"I’ve noticed that, too,” still dryly.
“I’m kind of wound up," Mary con-
fessed. "I’ll Just wash my face and
cool off. Then we’ll have dinner,
Rob.”
She had no sooner left the room
than a knock came at the door. It
appeared to be Mary Slade’s day "at
home."
"Oh, the dev—” muttered Rob as he
started toward the door. “These
d-d curious neighbors!"
He opened the door abruptly,
stead of the gossiping neighbors
had expected he was confronted
Katherine Strickland.
CHAPTER X.
Katherine was just as muoh amased
at meeting Hayee as he was at find-
ing her at the door.
“I didn’t know you would be here,1
Katherine apologised, "otherwise I—
Bob’s expression silenced her. She
had never seen such an expression in
his eyes before. Katherine waB radi
antly beautiful today. She knew It.
More than that, she had taken par-
ticular care to gown herself In an
exquisite afternoon drees of dull blue,
a gown that had been draped accord-
ing to her own fastidious design. But
in Bob’s eyes there was no response
to her beauty or her clothes or her
poise. ' He didn’t even attempt to dis-
guise his disgust at her effrontery in
invading Mrs. Slade’s retreat.
“1 want to see Mrs. Slade," Kath-
erine finally annoimcefa. "
"Upon my word!" his voice was
low, but hoarse. “I never heard of such
a thing as your comlug to this house.
What do you want here? Want to tell
that little woman you’re after her?
What do you want here?”
"Will you kindly tell Mrs. Slade that
I am here?” Katherine’s eyes were
hard and her mouth a thin strip of
determination.
“First, I want to know what you’re
going to say to her,” Hayes demanded.
“Whether I say it today or tomor-
row doesn’t matter,” Katherine an-
swered, quietly. “I’ll say It. So you
might as well let her know I’m here—
and go.”
“All right, but do you think you had
better risk it? You look out! When
she discovers—’’ Mary’s entrance at
this moment checked Hayee’ warning.
She looked questionlngly, first at Kath-
erine, then at Hayes
“I’ll be back, auntie, in a very few
minutes," Hayes remarked. ‘Tve got
to work on my car. This is Miss
Strickland,’’ and he shut the door.
“Oh — Miss Strickland.” repeated
Mary, very much pleased, but very
muoh in awe of the senator's daughter.
“You called on me once before, but
I had a headache. I’ve often wished
since I hadn’t had it Won’t you take
off your things and sit down. It’s very
kind of you to call.”
Katherine thanked her and sat
down. She had not expected to find
such a sweet little woman in Mrs.
Slade. The woman was so little, so
fragile, so harmless and helpless in
appearance. Even the old-fashioned
cottage made its appeal to the girl’s
sensitive spirit; the shabby furniture
gave her a vision of what Slade’s ear-
lier life with this woman must have
been. Instead of her usual poise, she
found herself quite a little at a loss
to know what to do or say before the
irank, sincere gaze of Slade’s wife.
The questions she had meant to blurt
out Boon after her arrival remained
mutely on her lips. Instead she found
herself answering the questions that
Mary Slade was asking. ^
She found herself telling the wohjan
of her own struggles against increas-
ing poverty, talking of her own hopes
and ambitions.
“Mrs. Slade, I don’t say this Is a
social call.” Katherine found herself
ae frank as the woman at the other
side of the table.
“You—you know all about my
trouble, Miss Strickland?”
“Yes, that’s what I’d like to talk to
you about, without offending you, if I
might. You see, this trouble comes
very near to us—”
How does it come near to you, my
dear?” Mary interrupted.
Mrs. Slade,” Katherine set herself
bravely to what she knew would be
a bitter task. “My father is virtually
a beggar. You know how we live!
People think we’re rich. Well—we’re
poor! We’re getting poorer every day.
Every penny le tied up in—politics.
My father was the first to see Mr.
Slade’s strength. He is now living
on Mr. Slade’s future.”
Mary nodded.
“Mr. Slade is a very important man,”
Katherine went on, “but no matter
how much people admire him he can
easily be ruined by a scandal.”
“I haven’t any desire to ruin my
husband,” Mary protested, quickly.
“No, I’m sure you haven't,” Kath-
erine was more at ease as the con-
versation progressed. “But you being
here and he being a few miles away,
of course, there’s no excuse to be
offered, is there? It is a scandal. Po-
litically and socially he’s ruined unless
he comee back here, or you—” Kath-
erine paused, for the simple reason
that she didn’t have the heart to fin-
ish.
“Or I go away,” Mary completed the
sentence. “Yes, and if I go away—I
know what that means. No. I’m not
going away. Miss Strickland, you tell
your father and his friends, from
me—”
“Oh. no—please,” Katherine object-
ed. “I came quite alone, unknown to
him.”
“Well, you might as well tell him
or anyone else that wants to know—”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t, Mrs. Slade. I
couldn’t carry any messages. I came
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pathy and understanding. “You’re so
young and need pretty things. That’s
one of the Joys I’ve missed—dressing
a daughter! You know,” she began,
suddenly, ‘Tve heard a great deal of
you. and you're not at all the young
lady I supposed you were. You’re Just
as simple and sweet and natural as
you can be. And your affection for
your father!”
Mary got up and, selecting the love-
liest rose from the cluster in the vase,
carefully wiped the stem and handed
it to Katherine.
Won’t you stay for a bit of din-
ner? Better have Just a bite.”
“I must go,” returned Katherine ab-
sently. Somehow or other 6he hadn’t
quite expected this sort of a visit.
“I hope I haven’t said anything to
trouble you,” she hastened to add.
What I said about this ruining Mr.
Slade is just an echo of what his
friends say.”
My dear child, you haven’t hurt my
feelings. Perhaps you know some-
thing I don’t know?” she asked, sud-
denly. “Do sit down again. Stay Just
a minute. I’d like to talk some more.
You’re out in the world and I’m quite
alone. People aren’t as frank with
me as they might be. Suppose I’m
your mother—Just let me say it—and
my husband wanted a divorce—he’s
old enough to be your father—we’d all
get together to find out why, wouldn’t
we?”
“I suppose we would,” and Kath-
erine took the chair Mrs. Slade had
indicated.
What I want to know is why
people think Mr. Slade wants a di-
vorce? Why, isn’t a separation bad
enough?”
“I don’t know that I—” For the life of
her she could think of no answer- to
this directly simple line of questioning.
Well, there’s only one reason I
ever knew of,” Mary continued, “when
a man’s so insistent. I guess you
know the kind of reason I mean—a—
well—a younger reason.”
"You mean—a woman?” Kath-
erine’s voice was Cold and firm.
“Yes, I do. It doesn’t seem to sur-
prise you,” Mary declared suddenly
noticing that Katherine had known at
once Just what she had in mind. “Miss
Strickland, I think you know some-
thing more than you’re telling me
and you hate to say 1L What would
you do in my place?” she asked as
Katherine’s silence gave virtual as-
sent.
"I?” Katherine asked vacantly. She
thought a moment. Then quickly, ear-
nestly: “I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d
do what they all do. I’d save what’s
left of the affection I once had. It’B
no use standing over a man with the
end of a chain in your hand; that
doesn’t get him back. I’d take his
money, the luxury—I’d simply—well,
I’d dissolve partnership and I’d go.
I’d go to some place where life inter-
ested me and get what I could out of
It. I’d live as I never had lived, and
I’d make him pay."
“That’s a new idea to me.” Mary
was listening Intently. “I never
thought of such a thing.”
“And supposing, Mrs. Slade, that an-
other woman did appear. I don’t say
there is one, but—”
“But is there?” Mary persisted.
"I didn’t say so. But I do know
this: If we do love anyone, and they
really love us, they never get over It
and we never get over it, either, for
there’s always something in our hearts
that we can’t—we can’t forget. And
take a man who’s not young, like Mr.
Slade, Why; uo‘uLiiei tfoulaii could 4>o
anything at all to him—I mean any-
thing more than something to keep up
his position.”
“I see,” replied Mary, thoughtfully
“Someone to sit in his box at the oj>
era—someone to go about and do him
credit. Miss Strickland,” she paused
a moment and looked at Katherlna
earnestly, "there is such a woman, and
you know it. 1 believe, Miss Strick-
land, I believe the Lord sent you
straight here to me.”
"I only came to find out what you
intend doing,” Katherine answered,
alarmed and not knowing exactly what
Mrs. Slade meant. “I mustn’t trouble
you any longer.”
"You're no trouble at all,” said
Mary, detaining her. "It’s the doubt
that troubles me. Miss Strickland, I
know perfectly well you must hava
beard people talking. The words I
want are In your mouth. Come, now,
honestly tell me,” she ooaxed, “who ia
the hussy?”
“Mrs. Slade,” exclaimed Katherlny
haughtily, unconsciously drawing her*
self up.
”1 ought not to have used that word,
I know,” Mary drew a long breath,
“but I—you can’t blame me. Why,
do you know what it would mean? It
would mean two Mrs. Slades here In
thjB town or — or — anywhere he’s
M
:< X.
Your Margin
of Health
is very small, indeed,
when the appetite is
poor, the digestion
bad, the liver lazy
and the bowels clog-
ged— but don’t re-
main that way; take
HOSTETTER’S
STOMACH BITTERS
today and let it help
Nature restore these
organs to their proper
functions. Be sure to
GET HOSTETTER’S
!• no more necessary
than Smallpox, Arm?
experience bu demonxtxated
the almost mlraculouf effi-
TYPHOID
caey, and barmleisnefs, of Antityphoid Vaccination,
Be vaccinated NOW by your physician, yott and
your family. It l» more vital than house Instjranca.
Ask your physician, druggist, or lend for Have
you had Typhoid?” telling of Typhoid Vaccina,
reiultx from use, end danger from Typhoid Carriers.
The Cutter Laboratory, Berkeley. Cal.. Chleato. III.
Preduelni Vaccine* end Serum* under U. 8. Lleenie
CLERK DESERVED THE ROSE
Process of Clever Reasoning W»*
Certainly Well Worth the
Decoration.
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He Took Her Hand Eagerly and Held
It
•known. Two Mrs. Sladee after all
these long, respectable years I Why,
It Isn’t human!” and she held up two
accusing fingers. "Oh, no! Every
one would be askin’: “Which Mrs,
Slade Is that—the old one or the new
one he got?’ He’d be out with Mrs.
Slade No. 2, while Mrs. Slade No. 1
was home breaking her heart. Well,
they don’t catch me like that! Not
much! If that’s what it means, there’s
only going to be one Mrs. Slade, and I
wouldn’t stoop to be that one. I
fought for his name when he was free,
but If he Isn’t now, I wouldn’t haggle
over a man who didn’t respect me
enough to—'No! She could take him
and his name and his money and—I’d
go to where people didn’t know the
sight of my face. Miss Strickland,
there le another woman, and you know
It, Out with It, like a good girl. Just
say it—ahd i iff ake your tui vice, i ll
make the best of life and go. Just
say it I"
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
When a telegram arrived at the
Waldorf addressed to Mrs. S. Harkins,
Edward Glaslieen, the Information
clerk, looked through his big book
and found no person by the name of
Harkins was stopping In the hotel. It
is a part of his duties, according to
the New York Times, to deliver tele-
grams that at first look undeliverable,
and as ho studied the address on the
telegram, knowing something about
the Morse alphabet, he remembered
that “h” is four dots and a “p” is five.
Whereupon he looked Into his big
book again and found that Mrs. 8.
Parkius was stopping in the hotel.
When Mrs. Parkins came to the
desk he handed her the telegram and
asked If it was for her. She handed
It back. "I am Bure it is not for me,”
she said.
"Would you mind opening and mak-
ing sure?” asked Glasheen.
Mrs. Parkins tore open the envelope
and glanced at the signature. "Why,
It Is for me!” she exclaimed.
Then Glasheen picked up the rose
somebody had Just presented to John
Woelfle, his assistant, and stuck It in
his buttonhole.
"Shot” for Johnny.
“I wonder why they call that a lady-
bug?” queried Johnny. “Because It’e
got good manners and behaves Itself
and doesn’t go shouting around like
a boy, I guess,” answered his sister.
Sometimes a man has to be Bmart in
order to make enough money to sup-
port his grown-up sons.
Had Not Expectad to Find
a Sweet Little Woman.
Sueh
here to find out—” Katherine cheeked
herself. The situation was suddenly
becoming embarrassing.
“Well, now, you know," Mary an-
swered, “there won’t be any divorce."
"I see—yes—” and ehe took up her
gloves, preparatory ta going.
"I’m very sorry,” Mary explained,
"that others should suffer through
this, but that’s how It stands. For
once in bis life Dan Slade is not go-
ing to have his own way.” She smiled.
"Now, let’s talk of something else. I
hear you draw pictures of your dresses
—designs. Is that one of your own
gowns?”
"Oh, yes," Katherine replied, ami-
ably. "Koften do little sketches for
the fashion magazines, and I do busts.
My friends think it’s a fad, when aa
a matter of fact. It’s for money, for
clotbeB and things."
"I had no Idea.’’ Mary was all sym-
ALGERIANS NOT ALL ARABS
Two Kabyles, While They Are Fol-
lowers of Islam, Have Different
Characteristics.
I have spoken of Algeria aa If It
consisted entirely of Arabs; but this
may give an entirely false) Idea of the
population and characteristics of the
country. For though they are all fol-
lowers of Islam they do not belong to
the same race. Roughly there are two
great races in Algeria, the Arabs prop-
erly so-called, and the Kabyles.
The Kabyles are a curious race, so
different from the Arabs as to sug-
gest an entirely different origin. Some
people even Insist that they are large-
ly of that Roman race which' for so
long was master of all North Africa.
Their language is quite different from
Arabio; though they are Moslems,
their conception of Mohammedanism
Is so different from those of the Arabs
that they may well be considered
heretics, and their racial characteris-
tics are even more different than their
blood and their creed from those of
the Arab population.
The Arab Is lazy, the Kabyle Is In-
dustrious. The Arab Is a spendthrift,
the Kabyle is thrifty. The Arab la
more reactionary than the Kabyle. It
Is evident that the French will have
a less difficult problem In assimilating
the Kabyle than in assimilating the
Arab.—T. P. O’Connor In T. P.’s
Weekly.
- Daily Good.
We are too apt to underrate the
moral quality of a man’s regular voca-
tion, his dally task, his business to
look somewhere apart from this for
his opportunity for achieving charac-
ter and doing good. But there Is noth-
ing else that la so determinative of
a man’s character, nothing else that
so furnishes hands for his beneficence
and feet to run his errands of good
will.—John W. Chadwick.
No Danger.
City Cousin—But, Cousin Eben, yon
can’t go to the party in those clothes.
Your grandfather wore those at least
forty years ago.
Country Cousin—That’* all right.
You don’t suppose there’ll be anybody
at the party who saw him in them, do
you?"—Springfield Union,
Superior—
“Surpassing others in great*
ness, goodness, extent or
value of any quality.’’”
Century Dictionary.
That’s the definition, and
that’s why Post Toastiea
are called the
Superior Corn Flakes
—the surpassing, delicate
Indian Corn flavour being
sealed in by skillful toast-
ing with sugar and salt
Post
Toasties
are made in clean, airy,
modern factories—cooked,
seasoned, rolled and toast*
ed to crisp golden flakes”
Ready to serve direct
from the package.
To secure the Superior
Com Flakes, ask for
Post Toasties
—sold by Grocers.
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Brill, H. E. The Bixby Bulletin (Bixby, Okla.), Vol. 10, No. 37, Ed. 1 Friday, November 13, 1914, newspaper, November 13, 1914; Bixby, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc496376/m1/3/?q=War+of+the+Rebellion.: accessed June 24, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.