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By Booth

ORIOLE

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PART 11—ConUnuad. As be grew older, hi* Insatiate curiosity enabled blm to expose unnumberfd araknesaea, indiscretions and i social misfortunes on the part of acI Qualutances and schoolmstes; and to even exposure tab; noise and energy 1 gave i hideous publicity; the more h'.s victim sought pi acj- the more persistently be was sought out by Wallle. vociferous and attended by hllsrioufc spectators. But above all other things.. what most stimulated 1 the demoniac boy to prodigies of attire was any tender episode or symptom connected with the dawr of lore. Florence herself had suffered exerreisticgly at Intervals throughout her eleventh spring, because Wallle discovered that Georgia Beck sent her a valentine; and the humorist's many, many cqnenllngB of that vrlentlnc's 1 affectionate quatrain Anally left her unabie to decide which she hated the more. Wallle or Georgle. That was th,e worst of Wallle: he never "let up”; and in Florence's circle there was no more sobering threat than, j 'Til tell Wallle Torbln t” As for 1 Henry Rooter and Herbert Ililngsworih Atwater. Jr. they would as soot ha-e had a head-huntt- on their trail , as Wallle Torbln with anything In his hands that could Incriminate them In on Implication of love—or an ac- : knowledgement of their own beauty. The fabric of rivlllted life Is Inter woven with blackmsil: even aome of the rohlest people do favors for other peopie who are depended npon not to ; tell somebody something that the no - blest people have door Blackp-.aU Is born Into us all. an- 1 our nurses teach us more blackmail by threatening to tel! cur parents. If we woc’t do thl« add uhnt—and our i>arents threaten to ten th* doctot^-and so we learn! ^ Blackmail u part of the dally life of a child: displeased, nls Arst resort to i get hi* way v.nh other children Is « threat to “tell”: bnt by-end-by hi* : experience discovers the mutua' benefit of honor among blackmailer*. nuTefore. at eight It U no longer the ticket to threaten to tell the teacher: : and s little later, threatening to teii any adult at all Is considered seme,hlng of a breakdown In morals. Noj toriovsly. the code Is more liable to ; Infraction by people of the phyalcally ; weaker sex. for the very reason, of course, that their Inferiority of muscle go frequently compels such a sin. If they are to hare their way. But for Florence 'here was now no sucli : temotatlon I.ook'ng toward the dei molitlon of Atwater & Rooter, sn ex- | posnre before adults of the results | of •Truth would have been an effect ; of the sickliest pallor compared to I whs i might he accomplished by a j careful use of the catastrophic Wallle

| Torbln

| All in all. It was a great Sunday j for Florence. On Sunday evening It I was her privileged fusion) to go t3 ! the bonw of her fat, old great-ancle. | Joseph Atwater, and remain until nine I o’clock. In chatty companionship with | Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie, his | wife, and a few other relatives who | were in the habit of dropping In there ! 3H Sgnrtuy eveplngs. Iq •summer. I lemonade and cake were frequently ! provided: In the autumn, one atlli found cake, and perhaps a pltcncr of

is: there take and

stancei.. Herbert was among the guests; und, though rath* at a 'disadvantage. so far as the conversation was concerned, not troubled by the handicap. The reason h? was at a conversational disadvantage was closely connected with the unusual supplv of refreshments; Unde Joseph and Aunt Carrie had foreseen the coming of several more Atwater* than usual, to talk over the new affair* of their beautiful relative. Julia. SeJ dom have any relative’s new affairs been more thoroughly talked over than were Julia’s that evening, though ell the time by means of various symbols, sluce It was thought wiser thst Her bert aoJ Florence should not jet be told of Jal.a’s engagement, and Florence’s ps r . ..ts were not present to confess ihclr indiscretion. Julia was referred to as "the traveler.” and other makeshifts were employed with the most knowing caution; and all the while Florence merely ate Inscrutabl). The -acre sincere Herbert was a* placid: such foods were enough for

him.

"Well, all I say is. the traveler better enjoy herself an her travels,’’ said Aunt Fanny finally, a* the subject appeared to be wearing towird exhaustion. “She certainly Is in for It when the voyaging Is over and she arrive* In the port she sailed from, and has to show her papers. I agree with the rest of you: shell have a great deal to answer for, and most of all about the shortest one. My own opinion 1* that the *hortcst on*. Is going to burst like a balloon.” ’The shortest one.” as the demure Fljrence had understood from the urst. ws* her Ideal—none other than Noble Dill. Jfow she looked ri from the stool where she sat with her hack against a pilaster of the mantelpiece. “Uncle Joseph,” she said—"I was Ju« thinking. What Is a person’s reason T’ The fat gentleman, rosy with firelight and cider, finished his fif'h giag» before responding. ’’Well, there are

It fit-'ggsrad Him. "What—What—

You Mean?"

persons I never could find any reason for ’em at all. ‘A p?rson’s reason!’ What do yon mean, ‘a person 1 ' reason.’ Florence?” “I mean like when somebody sa>*. They’ll lose their reason.’” she explained. "Ha* everybody got a reason. and If they hav, what Is It, and how do they lose It, and what would

they do then?”

“Oh, I seel” he said. "You needn't worry I suppose since you heard It, you’ve beer, hunting all over yourself for your reaso- und looking to see If there was oue hanging out of anybody nlse, uomewl.rre. No; it's something you can't see ordinarily. Florence. Losing your reason Is Just another way of saying ‘going craxy!”’ “Oh.” she murmured, and appeared to be somewhat disturbed Al this. Herbert thought proper to offer a witticism for the pleasure of

the company.

"Tcu know, Florence,” he said, "It nnl* means acting like you most always do.” He applauds 1 himself with a burst of changing laughter which ranged from a bullfrog croak to n collnpsinr soprano: then he added: “Especla.iy when you come around my end Henry's newspaper building! You certainly ’lose your reason’ every time you come around that ole place!” "Well, course 1 hnf to act !!te the people that's already there." Florence retorted, not sharply, but li- a ft using tone tlat should have warn ad him. I; was not her wont to use a quiet voice Tor repartee. Thinking her hmnhie. h« laughed the more raucously. “Oh. Florence'” b- besought her.

think we were runnln' a lunitic asylum the way ahe takes on. She boilers and heller* and aqualla and squav.ka. The least iittie teeny thing she don't like about the way we run our paper, she c- mes flappln' over there and goe» to screechin around, you could hear her out at :«oorhooae

farm!"

ow. now. Herbert," hi* Aunt benny Interposed. “Poor little Florence isn't saying anylhing Impolite to you— not right now. at any rate. Why don't you be a little sweet to her Just for

onccT*

Her unfortunate expression revolted all the cousinly manliness in Herbert's bossoro. “ ’Be a little sweet to heir ” he echoed, with poignant Incredulity, and then In render made plain bow poorly Amt Fanny inspired him. T Just exackly as soon be a little sweet to an e’''—tor," he asserted: sptb was his mess on this subject. “Oh. oh!" said Aunt Orrle. “I would!" Herbert Insisted. "Or » mosquito. Pd rather, to either of >m, because, anyway, they don't make so much nol»r. Why. you just ought to hear tier." be went on. growing more and more severe. "You ought to Just come around our newspaper building any afternoon you please, after school, when Henry anu I are tryin' to do our work In. anyway, some peace. Why. she just squawks and squalls and squ—” Tt must be terrible." Uncle Joseph Integrup.ed. “What do you do all that for. Florence, every afternoon?’ “Just for exercise,” she answered dreamily: and her placidity the more exasperated her Journalist cousin. “She d »es It because she thinks she ought to be runnln' our own newspaper. ray and Henry's: that's why she does It. She thinks she knows more about how to run newspaper), than anybody alive: but there's one thing she's coin' to find out: and that I*, she don’t have anything more to do wltli ay and Henry's newspaper. We wouldi-'t hare another single one of her ole poems In It. no matter how tnueh sis offered to pay us! Uncle j Joseph. I think you ought to tell her i she'* got no business around my and j Henry’s newspaper building. ' “But. Herbert." Aunt Fanny suggested. “you might let Florence have n little share In It of some sort. Then everything would be all right.” Tt would?” he demanded, his Voice cracking naturally, at his age. but also under strain of the protest he wished It to express. Tt woo-wud? Oh. my goodnesr, Aunt Fanny. 1 guess ycu’d like to see our newspaper Just alterably ruined! Why. we wouldn't let that girl have any more to do with It than we would some horse!" “Oh. oh!” both Aunt Fanny -.nd Aunt Carrie exclaimed, shocked. "We wouldn’t." Herbert Insisted. “A horse would know uny amount more how to run a newspaper than she does; anyway, a horse wouldn't make so much noise around thc-re. Soon as we got our printing press: we said right then that we mad * up oar minds Florence Atwater wasn't ever goln' to .have a single thing to do with our newspaper. If you let her have anything to do will) anything .she wants to run the whole thing. Hut she might Jusi as well learn to stay away from our newspaper building, because after we got her out yesterday we fixed a way so’s shell never get in there

again!"

Florence looked at him demurely. "Are you sure. Herl>ert?” she In-

onlred.

•Just you try it! ’ he advised, with heartiest sarcasm: and he laughed tauntingly. "Just come around tomorrow and try ! ': that's all I r*k!" T cert'nly Intend to." she responded, with dignity. “I may have a slight surprise for yon." “Oh. Florence, say not so! Say not so. Florence! Say not so!” At this she looked full upon hint, and already she had something In the nature of a surprise for him: for so powerful was the s'tll! halefulnes* of her glance he was slightly startled. T might say not so." she said—“If 1 was speaking of what pretty eyes you know you l-ave. Herbert.” Tt staggered him. “What—what— you mean?"

Told of John Burroughs. John Burroughs, the naturalist, was not interested In nature’s larger peets. Geysers and volcanoes bored blm. HU one except, in was the Grand Canyon, of the Colorado, which he called T - Divine Abyss.” Despb - his luiecUtess on study when a boy. Burroughs was fond of girls and ker: a systematic record of hi* engug.mer.ts with them, writers on his life *arFortuitous Circumstances. "Did y '.i have * good time at Smith'* last evening?" "Can’t aay that I did. Mr Smith is au old sweet brjn if mine -nd l awe Mr. Smith

pioD*r5 4 crasser

day dresses es those pictured here— ] draping or girdle. In the' blouse of the silk nearly always ir the heavier j black crepe, bordered with whits crepe weaves or occasional satins, j crepe, the fullness at the waistline la Colors are sedate with dark navy and I disi»os**d of by gathers at the sides.

black I great favor Two black frocks are shown here, one of them of wool velours In a chemise dress and ono in —epe with a bloused bodice. The wool dreys employs monkey fur fringe up the side seams and as a finish for the sleeves In the simplest manner possible. But -it Is used in many other ways; as a finish for diagonal bands scrosi the front of the skirt or to border circular ornaments of braid, scattered over the dress. The girdle of black beads makes a brilliant finish. The crepe frock uses many yards of moire ribbon In frills to simulate along tunic on the straight full skirt. The square reck Is outlined with two ruffles of the ribbon rod the front of the be lice further decorated with tnree

It Is cleverly trimmed with' small, _ opaque white bends-^af. w^ich broider; that simulates* bl'Ulf «HfJit be substituted. The tfiaJh at! the mack fastens with small link- buttoni -'X Two colors are us*jj. la the handsome biouse with • fiish—lu this model they are beige anil H^nna seems destined Hits aleton io rescue the sedate colors, as* IwaWp, taupe or , navy, from being commonplaok-tt lends them Its own distinction. Both !embroidery and beads are-, cieTerij i used In this model; the beads (in the i bugle variety) outline the neck fcnd ! cover the joining of the two colors In | the body of the blouse. They are scattered over the whole blousq In litj tic triangles, and forai a fringe for

^ Blouses Are Smartly Simple.*

frills of It. The sleeves are finished} the tabs which finish the front. The to the same way. A short sash of ' long sash Is made of the henna-colored

Ider moire Is tied In the most casual j Tepe.

of bows at the left side. Both moire and "ire ribbo row widths (eotnetisse Inch wide) have-been

only

in ruffles grouped In rows.

One very suti .-.-sfUi fio< i of navy polret twill Is cut on the same lines as the crepe frock pictured, but Is scalloped nl the bottom Cire ribbon a half-inch wide makes the frills that

Many neutral toned models are

In nar- ) given a brilliant dash o.- color In the a half- new and popular futurist colors. These

1th 'metal

ay. Conventional de 1 with gold, silver or perhaps all thro- in