The Wanette Enterprise (Wanette, Okla.), Vol. 4, No. 31, Ed. 1 Friday, October 16, 1914 Page: 3 of 8
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THE WANETTE ENTERPRISE
r'
The Governor's
T A Novelization of
Alice Bradley's Play
<By GERTRUDE STEVENSON
Illustrations from Photographs of the Stage Production
OoprTlgtit, 1M& (Publication UUbta Reserved) hr David Beluco.
. SYN0PSI8.
Daniel Slade, suddenly advances from &
penniless miner to a millionaire. He Is
umbltlous to become governor of the
state. His simple, home-loving wife falls
to rise to the new conditions. Slade meets
Katherine, daughter of Senator Strick-
land, and sees In her all that Mary Is
not. He separates from his wife and takes
rooms at his club. Kdltor Merritt, who
has been attacking Slade, Is won over to
the latter's support because he cannot
otherwise supply the money demanded for
a European trip for Mrs. Merritt. Kath-
erine agrees to marry Slade when he Is
free. Bob Hayes, In love with Katherine,
has a stormy session with her over her
affair with Slade. Mary, anxious to make
It up with Slade, appears at Strickland’s
house during a political conference.
Slade Informs her that separation Is final.
CHAPTER VIII—Continued.
Slade nervously assured himself
that all the doors were tightly closed.
He suppressed the twinge of shame
for hts stealthy action by assuring
himself that It was not fear—simply
business caution. To his cowardly
wrenching of his wife’s heart he gave
no thought at all. It was a move In
the game. He made It as dispassion-
ately as one moves a chessman on
the board. Mary was looking at him
with a new light in her brown eyes
as he turned to her again. She spoke
again.
"It was all right /until you made
that lucky deal. Dan, with the money
I helped you to make and you pulled
me out from behind my stove and
tried to "make ine a parlor ornament.
I’d hate to think where you’d a been
today, If yer had. Five years ago. you
took all the work I loved to do out of
my hands and now you're punishing
me because 1 did work.”
i "No, I'm not,” Slade remonstrated,
moved in spite of himself by her
simple, eloquent argument.
"Yes, yuh are, Dan, you’re just as
good as whipping me for layln’ up
the foundation of every dollar you’ve
got and here I am at my age, sitting
In idleness in a great big barn of a
house with my job gone," she finished
pathetically.
( "Well, that’s life,” declared Slade
unfeelingly,
"Then it’s a pretty poor thing,” and
she shook her head sadly. No, It ain’t
life. It shouldn’t be. There’s some-
thing wrong In a man’s getting so
far up lje can’t live with the wife he
married because she cooked and
worked instead of playing. It ain’t
Just!”
"Oh, what’s the use, Mary?” Slade
sighed wearily, as though ho, and
not she, were the injured one.
"Dan,” Mary lowered her voice and
looked at him earnestly. “If I brought
up a girl today and we were poor,
would you advise me to say, ‘Take
piano lessons, learn languages, keep
up to the times, never mind doing
your share or being economical?’”
"I’m not going to argue,” Slade re-
plied loftily.
"Yuh can’t, Dan,” declared Mary
with conviction. “There ain’t no ar-
gument. It’s one-sided. Suppose I’d
changed and you’d stayed the same,
what would all your friends say?
'Poor Slade, his wife's crazy—or bad—
probably bad.’ No, yer can’t get me
to see it!"
“Well, whether you see It or not,
that’s just where we stand. You’d
better let me call Robert to take you
home.”
“Wait, Dan,” she pleaded. "Will
you see me again at home. If I go
now?"
There was a tense pause. Slade did
not reply.
“I see, 1 see.” She dropped wearily
Into a chair and suddenly the tears
started in her eyes.
"Please, Mary, remember where you
are.” Slade was a trifle less cold.
“I’ll let you know my p' ps. All you
have to do is to abide by them. You
say you’ll do anything for me, that’s
all I ask you to do, abide by my plans.
I wish you much happiness, the best
of everything, a life beyond anything
you ever had,5’ and he was rapidly
being carried away by his own mag-
nanimity. “I shall always think of
you with the greatest affection,” he
concluded, taking on a patronizing air
and trying to make himself believe
his own empty sentiments. His self-
esteem had been severely torn in the
last few moments of his wife’s talk.
He bad almost caught a glimpse of
. himself as he really was, but he was
regaining what he was pleased to con-
sider control of himself.
“Well, you’ve conquered.” Mary
dabbed her eyes and nose and tried
to muster up sufficient courage to
meet the situation. "1 give in. I’ll
abide by your plans. Whatever you
want me to do,” her voice broke into
a sob, "tell Robert—I’ll do It” The
tear? continued to fall In spite of
h 'er heart was breaking. Her
shoulders drooped pitifully, yet she
felt a certain sad Joy In acceding to
his wishes. There was a kind of hap-
piness in sacrificing herself to please
him.
She began to pull her gloves, Jerk-
117, clumsily, finding some relief In
having something to do. She was
struggling hard not to break down—
not to cling wildly to him and beg
him not to give her up.
She steadied herself finally.
"Well, Dan, there’s one thing
you’ve got to be careful of—n,ow that
I won’t be round to hold you back—
now that I won’t be with you any
more,” her voice quavering. "I’m the
only one who tells you all the truth.
Everyone else Is afraid of you.
"Don’t let them flatter you,” she
said, with more maternal than wifely
solicitude. "They can. I found that
out. Father! You're an awful fool
In, but leave my name. I’m glvln’
up everything else."
"You might as well stop!” he warned
her threateningly. “You’re going
now, tonight, the first train East to-
morrow Go where you like, see what
you like, do what you like, spend what
you like. To what you have I’ll add
a million more, but I'm going to have
this done In my own way.”
"Oh, Dan!” she shrank from bis
wrath. “I’m going home.”
“No, you're not, until thiB thing Is
settled. My mind's made up. I don’t
want to quarrel with you, and I should
If you fought me.”
"I won’t let you. You can’t do It.”
"I can’t do It, eh?” The word can’t
was like a red rag to a bull. He stood
over her with darkening face and
shaking fist. "Don’t you know better
than to stand there and tell me that?
Have I got to hear It from you?
Haven’t you eeen what happened to
man, woman and child, all of ’em, who
ever told me that to my face? I'll
do It! I’ll do It now, by God!” and he
strode angrily up and down the room.
The angrier her husband became,
the calmer and more determined was
Mary Slade.
"Dan,” she began very gently, but
firmly, "you’re stubborn, but you ain’t
a hit more stubborn than I am when
I’m right, and now I am.
"You can go ahead. Do all you like,
but this time you won’t conquer, be-
cause I’m going to fight you, father.
I’m going to fight you. Dan.”
Then with head proudly erect, she
walked to the door, threw it open and
cried, Just a bit hysterically In spite
of her effort to keep her voice steady:
‘‘Robert! You can take me home
now, please!” She turned back Just
once to the man gazing moodily Into
the fire.
“I’m goin’ to fight yer, Dan!"
“I Will Have It,” Stormed Slade.
with your money. You never had but
one real friend. That’s me. You'll
find It out.”
“I’ll look out," Slade promised, and
there was a note of relief in his tone
at her change of attitude.
"Do you want me to go away from
our house right off?” Mary asked, as
if the idea of actual leaving had just
occurred to her.
"Oh!” Slade hesitated. The details
did seem rather cold-blooded. “But
It’ll be better when it’s all settled—”
"All right.” Mary's voice was pa-
tient and colorless. "I’d like to feel
I was goin’ where you wanted me to
go—wherever ’tis—and—doin’ what
yer wanted me to—”
“Thank you, Mary,” and the surface
politeness seemed strangely out of
place from this man who was turning
the wife of his youth adrift. “Of
course it’ll be arranged that you get
the best of the divorce. I'll attend to
that. You simply leave It to me—”
"A divorce,” interrupted Mary. Her
eyes widened with amazement, and
she came up to him, her mouth open
with surprise. “A divorce?”
“A divorce—why, yes—a separation
—what’e the difference?” Slade was
stooping now to deceive the little
woman, who was herself the soul of
truth and honor.
"What?” the woman gasped.
“A separation Is the same thing as
a divorce,” and he lied shamefully.
“Is It?” ,
“It will be done quietly,” he went
on.
“Why, Dan Slade!” She could not
believe her ears. “Give up your name?
Why, you might as well ask me to
give up my eyes. I’ve got It now—
you’re looking for a younger. You
can’t have a divorce, Dan!” All her
tears were dry now and a new fiber
in her voice.
"I will have It," stormed Slade, en-
raged because her mood had changed
at the word “divorce,” just when he
had been congratulating himself that
the difficulty was all nicely adjusted.
“That's all there is to it. I will have
It.”
"Anything else, Dan. Anything else
—not a divorce. You mustn’t ask me
to take the name I’ve carried all these
years and throw it away. I’m giving
CHAPTER IX.
Thirty years of one way of living
becomes a habit—so much so that It
is almost a human impossibility to
adjust oneself to any other mode of
]ife. Mary Slade, living year after
year with Dan Slade, interested in his
work, watching him rise and succeed,
had come to think of the man as only
another part of herself. With him
out of her life she felt as if a part
of her own body had vanished with-
out which she was restless and 111 at
ease.
As she sat in the little old cottage
where with Dan she started out on
married life, she experienced a feel-
ing of detachment as If either this
were not the right place, but some
sort of inferior substitute, or as though
the real and vital part of herself were
absent.
The room was just the same as It
was the day she and Dan had walked
out of It to take up their new life In
the handsome mansion in town. Not
a thing had been changed or disturbed.
The same crooked hatrack, with her
old knitted shawl dangling on one
hook, hung behind the door. The same
well-worn tidies were carefully pinned
on the plush-upholstered chairs. The
same cheap little ornaments that so
delighted Mary’s simple heart In the
old days still cluttered the mantel.
The same near-crystal crowded the
sideboard. The tablecloth remained
laid from meal to meal after the time-
saving custom of middle-class fami-
lies.
Everything was the same but the
atmosphere of contentment that once
filled the room; everything the same
but Mary's happiness In her husband’s
love. Outside the window the rose
bush Dan had helped her to plant still
nodded and blossomed In the sunshine
that poured In a flood of golden Joy
through the windows of the shabby
room and emphasized all the worn
places In the comfortable old chair
where evening after evening Dan
Slade had sat reading his newspaper
and dreaming of the great future he
was confident the fates held in store
for him.
In spite of herself Mary’s thoughts
were of her husband—the first bitter
thoughts she had ever harbored
against the man. She turned sick at
heart at the thought of It. Dan and
herself estranged, hopelessly at odds
fighting each other In the divorce
court, fighting even over the posses
sion of the little cottage that had
shared In the first happy flush of theii
youthful love and happiness. Thle, the
only place where she could find peace
in her loneliness, Dan was trying to
wrest from her. It was too near to
towh, too near to the scene of hid
new activities, he had sent word to
her. She must vacate. She must go
so far away that his charge of “de-
sertion" would stand fire in a court
of law.
Face to face with the fact that Dan
was trying to drive her even from this
shelter, trying to drive her out into
a strange and alien world, of which
she knew nothing and which knew
nothing of her, Mary could scarcely
believe that Dan was so changed—
that even now he would be willing to
snatch away from her the place which
held the memory of happier days.
She had not seen her husband since
the night in Senator Strickland's
library, when the awful knowledge had
been forced home to her that he not
only wanted a permanent separation,
but Insisted on having an absolute di-
vorce. Over and over again a thought
came Into the woman's mind. It was
Intuitive, Instinctive. Try as she
might to silence It, she could not put
it out of her thoughts. It was that
ever-recurrent feeling that another
woman had entered Dan’s mind and
heart. Again and again she pushed
it from her, hut always and ever the
obseseion clung to her like a black
shadow that haunted her during the
day and persisted even in her dreams
at night.
From the kitchen came the voice of
her maid-of-all-work singing an old-
fashioned tune.
It was one that In her young days
Dan had loved to hear her sing—one
whose Bweet melody and melancholy
sentiment he had loved in the days
before his heart had become hard and
his mind intense on the cold, hard
problems of finances and political ad-
vancement. It was the Bong in which
all lovers from the beginning to the
end of time find a responsive note:
“Nlta, Juanita, be my own fair bride.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
FARMER'S WIFE
-TOO IlLTO WORK
A Weak, Nervous Sufferer
Restored to Health by Ly-
dia E. Pinkham’s Veg-
/
etable Compound.
Kasota, Minn.— “I am glad to ssy
that Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound has dona
more for me than
anything else, and I
had the best physi-
cian here. I was so
weak and nervous
that I could not do
my work and suf-
fered with pains low
down in my right
side for a year or
more. I took Lydia
E. Pinkham’s Vege-
table Compound, and now I feel like a
different person. I believe there is
nothing like Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege-
table Compound for weak women and
young girls, and I would be glad if I
could influence anyone to try the medi-
cine, for I know it will do all and much
more than it is claimed to do.” — Mrs.
Clara Franks, R. F. D. No. 1, Maple-
crest Farm, Kasota, Minn.
Women who Guffer from those dis-
tressing ills peculiar to their sex should
be convinced of the ability of Lydia E.
^jnkham’j Vegetable Qom pound to pe-
store their health by the hl8tl$ genuine
and truthful testimonials we pfe con-^
stantly publishing in the newspapers. M
If von have the slightest doubt
thatXydia E.Pinkhain’s Vegeta-
ble Compound will help you,write
to Lydia E.PinkhamMedicineCo.
(confidential) Lynn, Mass., for ad-
vice. V our letter will be opened,
read and answered by a woman,
and held in strict confidence.
Make the Liver
Do its Duty
Nine times in ten when the liver is
right the stomach and bowels are right.
CARTER’S LITTLE
LIVER PILLS
gently but firmly comj
pel a lazy liver
do its duty.
Cures Con-,
■tipatinn, In-
digestion,
Sick
Headache, A
and Distress After Eating.
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE.
Genuine must bear Signature
EFFECT OF LONG ASSOCIATION
Marked Facial and Other Resem-
blances Noticed Among Those Who
Have Been Together#Years.
That persons who live together for
a very long period not only acquire the
same mannerisms, but grow a strong
facial resemblance is an established
fact But it is little known that the
same condition often exists among
mistress and servant being associated
together for a long period of years.
There Is usually a strong desire on the
part of most servants to ape their
mistresses, and this, added to the fact
of constant nearness, often extends
to facial resemblances.
There are in a small town In New
York state two unusual Instances of
this kind. Two widows live there, each
of whom has been attended by a wom-
an servant for more than 40 years.
In both cases the servants have be-
come so like their mistresses that
they are often mistaken for them, and
their cases have attracted attention
far and mar. Their voices over the
telephone are so alike that friends
of the women have given up this
method of communication.
The Recessional.
It may be recalled that Rudyard
Kipling’s poem, “The Recessional"
("Lest We Forget”) was never copy-
righted, but was a gift to Britain, the
empire and the world. It was pub-
lished In the London Tlm9s at the dia-
mond jubilee and a check for $500
was sent in payment This check he
returned, saying he would accept
nothing for his poem, which he dedi-
cated to the nation, so that it Is open
for all the world to print and to use.
Put snap and vigor Into your work.
HAD A SPIRIT OF KINSHIP
Chance Meeting Abokt Decided New
Yorker That All Women Really
Are Sisters.
Caught downtown umbrellaless on a
rainy afternoon, I waited in one of
the Broadway hotels for two hours,
then, deciding to risk my best bonnet
in the slightly slackened shower, I
started across to a Sixth avenue shop
to purchase an umbrella. As I stood
under the elevated getting what pro-
tection I could and waiting for a hold-
up in the traffic, a young girl stepped
up beside me. With ‘her skirt slit to
the knee, her hair forming “ear flops”
down over her too pink cheeks, and
blue, blue eyes peering through a
fringe of flaxen yellow, above which
was a bow three times as big as the
hat It adorned, she was In every de-
tail the latest cry of her type.
One glance and she seized me by
the arm to draw me beneath her um-
brella.
“Come In out of the rain, girlie," she
said.
Even If my mind had not been on
my very extravagant hat, I should
have met half way her spirit of friend-
liness. After thirty “girlie" has a rare
and soothing sound, anyway.
Chatting as to an old comrade, she
sheltered me to my shop door and,
with a bright nod, passed on whence
she had come—Into the unknown.—
New York Evening Post.
Why He Remembered.
"I don’t believe any man remembers
the first dollar he ever earned, though
a great many claim that they do.” “I
do." "Now, what was there about if
that fixed It so firmly in your mem-
ory?” "Because all I got was a
ulckeL”—Houston Post
Pettit's Eye Salve
TONIC
FOR EYES
Sure.
“Worth makes the man,” quoted the
sage.
“Yes, and Worth makes the wom-
an,” replied the fool. i
Physical Impossibility.
"So, Mrs. Judkins told you she had
a new enterprise on foot? She can't
have.”
"Why not?”
"Because It Is a manicure establish-
ment.”
Mves and Granulated Hyellds; No Bnmrtlng—
Just Coinfort. Write for Hook of tne My«
by mail Freo. Murine Kye lUaiedy Co., Chicago,
A Little Indefinite.
“Billy bade me good-by last night;
said he was going to the front."
“Hotel or army?”
Ten smiles for a nickel. Always buy Red
Cross Ball Blue; have beautiful clear whits
clothes. Adv.
Wireless telephony is now possible
for a radius of 225 miles.
To Cool a Bum a.
and Take
the Fire Out
A Household Remedy
HANFORD’S
Balsam of Myrrh
For Cuts, Burns,
Bruises, Sprains,
Strains, Stiff Neck,
Chilblains, Lame Back,
Old Sores, Open Wounds,”
and all External Iiyuriei
Made Since 1846. "LX"
Prico 25c, 50c anJ *1.00
All Dealers
Upcoming Pages
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Brewer, L. E. The Wanette Enterprise (Wanette, Okla.), Vol. 4, No. 31, Ed. 1 Friday, October 16, 1914, newspaper, October 16, 1914; Wanette, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc853963/m1/3/?q=War+of+the+Rebellion.: accessed August 15, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.