.1. Eannat Setia.1 Miction MAIDEN EEECRT By SAMUEL HOPKINS ADAMS ONE NIGHT' ? UMRL HOPXIK* ADAMS WWJ SOW** CHAPTER X?Continued ?16? Moby looked troubled. "I don't get it. I don't get either of you. He says he's always known you." "So he has," returned Marne. "Far be it from me to gum your game, baby," said Moby. "I guess I've been shoo tin' off my face too much." "I don't know what you've said, but you might as well finish it. Tell him, Moby." The Dickstein jaw wobbled. "The whole thing?" "The whole thing. It you don't, I will. He's a strong, experienced man of the world. He can stand it." "O-kay, baby. If you want it that way, you get it that way. This gal," he informed the wondering Mr. Morse, "is strictly synthetic. I made her up, myself. Out of the society columns and the Blue Book. Built to specifications. To match the boss' notion of what a debu tante?" "Day-bun-tay," corrected Marne. "Forget it! Of what a swell young society girl ought to be. She picked the name; I give her credit for that. But it was me that fixed up the family to fit." Liggy appealed to Marne. "What is he braying about?" Marne winked shamelessly. "The Van Strattens. Moby's been play ing their supposed glories on me like a spotlight." "The society Van Strattens," that gentleman amplified. "The kid hadn't even heard -of old Mrs. Mar cia Van Stratten, who's a headliner if there ever was one." Lines of bewilderment corrugated Mr. Morse's candid brow. "What the devil is all this?" he barked, shifting his suspicious gaze from Moby's ingenuous countenance to Marne's subdued grin. "No, sir. Wouldn't have known whether the old dame was a fe male mountain climber or an op eratic star till I dug her out of the files." "Did you tell him that?" Liggy demanded of the girl. "Anyway, ^ow would she know?" pursued Moby charitably. "She be in' from the sticks somewhere where they don't prob'ly get the New York papers." "Did you tell him that, Marne?" insisted Mr. Morse. "I'm tellin' you," continued Mo by, intent upon his theme. "I hand ed out old Madam Van Stratten neatly done up in blue ribbon. 'She's your grandmother,' " says I to the kid. A stuttering repetition of the word "Grandmother" was jolted forth from Liggy's numb amazement "That's what I said: 'Grandmoth er. 9w's your grandmother,' like that. Tor the purposes of this pic ture,' I says. 'No, she ain't,' says the kid." Liggy said: "Of course she isn't" "You're tellin' me! So I says: 'All right; we'll make her your aunt.' " "She is her aunt" "Huh? Whassat?" "She is my aunt," confirmed the girl. Moby's eyes bulged out "Wh-wb who's whose wh-wh-what?" he stut tered. "What's the matter with your brain?" demanded Liggy. "Can't you understand plain English? Mrs. Van Stratten is Miss Van Stratten's aunt. A-UiN-T, aunt Anything strange about that?" "She told me," began Moby in a faded voice, "that she didn't?" "I never told you anything ex cept that Aunt Marcia isn't my grandmother." "Aunt Marcia! Oh, my sufferin' tripes," moaned the stricken re searcher. "And Scoopy Van Strat ten, the pole player. You certainly let on you didn't know him. Was that square?I ask you." "Well, you see, Moby?" "And him your cousin all the time. Or maybe your uncle." "I hope not," said Marne cheer fully. "His real name is Stratsky, I believe. He's a social inventor, too." ? "Migawdl What m I (oin to leu the Big Boss now?" "You've already told him all he wants to know, haven't you?" "And more. I gave him the origi nal Van Stratten build-up. Then I get soused and told him it was all the bunk." The girl's eyes opened wide. She began to laugh. "You told him I was a fake?" "That's it. And here you are, the straight goods," lamented the un happy schemer. "How'm I goin' to break that to him?" "Don't," advised Marne, dim pling. "Life'11 be simpler if he doesn't know. Maybe he'll let me alone now." "What's this about letting you alone?" queried Liggy, frowning. "Where does this Big Boss person figure in your life?" "If it comes to that," snapped Moby Dickstein, "I don't just figure where you figure." "Than I'll tell you. Miss Van Stratten is going to marry me, ?Aren'tyon, Marne?" "I hate to disappoint you, Liggy, dear, but I'm afraid not." "Miss Van Stratten," specified Moby, making a valiant effort to ward recovery, "is goin' to marry A. Leon Snydacker, President of Purity Pictures, Inc. You ought to read the papers. Big Boy," he add ed patronizingly. "They ran my sto ry on the buddin' romance al| over the place." "Budding pig's-foot," said Mr. Morse with emotion. "There's noth ing to that. Is there, sweetie?" "I'm not going to marry any body," stated the girl. "Then I might as well be going," surmised Liggy dolefully. "Same here. Give me a lift as far as the village?" asked Moby. "Get in." "Just a second," requested Marne. "Nothing about this at home, you understand, Liggy." He nodded. "And, Moby, it would be just as well not to spill anything more about me to?to the others. It'd only stir up more complica tions." "O-kay, baby," agreed Moby from 'the depths of a shattered spirit. Self-sufficient though Miss Gloria Glamour was in life's ordinary prob "Blackmail, mayhem, and arson, probably." "I'll bring the paper to you and you can read it first." "Nothing and leas than nothing doing! Now, you list and give heed to your Uncle Marty, kid. Don't put your John Hancock to any thing that lawyer-man hands you, unless you have a lawyer-man of your own to o-kay it." "You're trying to gum my play," she objected almost tearfully. "Promise?" "What a sap I was to tell you about it!" "What a bigger sap you'd be to go to jail. Promise?" She looked up at him from under her shining lashes, an effect which had helped her win more than one contest. "Why should you care whether I go to jail or not?" "Pass it until later. When I'm surer of the answer. Promise, Gloria?" With unexpected meekness she said: "I guess I'll have to." He promptly kissed her. "You're right, you have to. Now what about Marne?" "We don't have to say anything about it to her, do we?" she plead ed. That "we" did something to his "I'm not going to marry anybody," the repeated angrily. lems, she felt the need of moral sup port in her enterprise against the purse of A. Leon Snydacker. Con cerning the righteousness of her plan she suffered no qualms. But she was uncertain about Lawyer Gormine. Victory, as she reviewed it, had been too easy to be con vincing. She craved, an accomplice; anyway, a confidante. Marne was out of the question It would be just like that queer kid to get sore and block the whole game. After the deal was completed Gloria intended, of course, to confess her unauthorized use of the other's per sonality and square it by handing over a fair cut of the proceeds. .Meantime, the less Marne knew, the better for all concerned. Moby Dick stein? No; Moby was too unreliable. As for Kelsey Hare, he wouldn't do at alL Anyone who would take ad vantage, as he had, of a friend was not to be trusted. There remained Martin Holmes. Well, why not? Martin listened to her recital with astonished amusement. At its close he thought for a long moment, then said: "Tut-tut." "Tut, yourself. What's the idea?" "It won't do, my child." "Why won't it do? What's the mat ter with it?" ? "Only naughty little girls black mail." "What d'you mean, blackmail?" she protested. "Didn't he put over those leaky contracts on us?" "I expect he did." "Then haven't I got a right to get even?" "I expect you have." "That's all I'm trying to do." "By false pretenses. That's dan gerous." "It isn't false pretenses. I never said I was Marion Van Stratten. Gormine said that. I'm not com pelled to wise him up to his own mistakes, am I?" "But you're going to get the money as Marion Norman Van Stratten." "I sure am. And give you and Marne your share of it." He put his hand over hers. "You're a good kid, Gloria. I'd hate to see you go to jail." "Jail, my eye. They can't put me in jail for trying." "They can for trying too hard. Didn't Gormine ask you to sign a paper?" ?Yeg M "Don't do it" "I don't get the money until I ?? "You'll get indicted if you do." "How do I know until I've seen Mr. Gormine's little paper?" moral stamina, so that his tone was regrettably lacking in firmness as he replied: "Well, I don't know. You're cer tainly given her (air, young name a couple of black eyes." "Only to the lawyer. And he won't pass it on. He's sewed up, because he doesn't want A. Leon to know he's been butting in." "Yes; that's true. Monday, Gor mine's coming back, you say? I'll take a couple of days to think the thing over." The result of his cogitation was a note which he drafted' and re drafted before he finally presented it in typed form, for her approval. Gloria did not approve. Far from it. She wanted her fire thousand dollars. She wanted the five thou sand for Marne. She wanted the other five thousand for Martin. She wanted to get even with Lawyer Gormine. She emitted what, from a less alluring source, might have been designated as a squawk. "I never said I wouldn't hold out for the money. I only said I wouldn't sign his old paper without consult ing a lawyer. I'm going to get me a lawyer." "I'm a good enough lawyer for you," he retorted inexorably. "There's the dotted line." Gloria protested. She implored. She stormed. She wept He had only one reply. ,< "Jail." v "I'd go to Jail for fifteen grand." "For how long?" "I don't know. A year." "This'd be ten. Maybe more." "Sweet cheeee'n crackers!" said the girl, shaken. "Even for a patient guy like me, ten years would be a long wait" he pointed out. "Wait for what?" asked Gloria, wide-eyed. "For you to come out" he ex plained with one of his rare and ex pressive grins. "Oh!" said Gloria. "Well! In that case ? Lemme see that paper again." It ended in her signing the agree ment expressly abandoning any claim of whatsoever kind upon A. Leon Snydacker, his heirs or as signs. (Martin had put that in to give it a legal flavor.) But she in sisted upon typing her signature. "No forgery for me," announced the suddenly cautious Miss Glam our. "You see, I've got a special yen now to stay out of Jail," she explained sweetly. "That ought to be a relief to Gor mine's soul," opined the young man, addressing the missive to the lower Broadway number given him by Gloria. It was not. Instead it roused dark forebodings in the mind of its re cipient. What kid of game was this, anyway? Was she holding off for more money? And what did that typed signature mean? This, above all else, struck his legalistic and suspicious mind unfavorably. Prompt action was indicated. He decided to go back over the ground and sniff about for what he might pick up. This time he took a night train. On the morning of his arrival. Kel sey Hare had gone to towfc to do some shopping. Feeling no special inclination to return to an atmos phere conspicuously lacking in cam araderie, he procured a supply of newspapers and magazines and sat in the lobby of the Park House, moodily reading them. He was in terrupted by the approach of an austere and thin-lipped stranger in black. "I am informed that you are tram Maiden Effort Headquarters." "Who Informed you?" "The young man behind the desk. He further stated that you are Mr. Templeton Sayles. May I take that as correct?" "If you like." "Thank you." The black-clad ooe sat down and drew his chair to a confidential proximity, scrutinizing the young man with analytical in tentness. "Mr. Sayles," he pro nounced. "you have the appearance of being a gentleman." "Don't Jump to rash conclusions "I shall assume that you are." Aa he seemed to be waiting for a response, Kelsey said: "No argu ment." This proved satisfactory to the other, who proceeded: "Mr. Sayles. I am Marbury Gormine. a lawyer of 120 Broadway, New York City. Note the address, if you Pj?oe "Got it," said Kelsey. "Though I don't expect to need it." "A difficult and delicate m lesion brings me here." ... "Hmphi Anything to do with me?" "I hope so." "I hope not." . _ "The fact that it may be financial ly advantageous to you will possibly alter your attitude." As en appeal to cupidity this would have got nowhere. As an ap peal to curiosity it was more ef fective. ^ ved) Three-Fourths of Orchestra Director's Work Is Done at the Regular Rehearsals The conductor as an outstanding figure is a comparatively modern in novation. In the palmy days of clas sical music, and in the opera house until well-nigh the middle of last century, his duties were undertaken by the first violin. I suppose that the art of conducting, as we know it, may be said to have started with Mendelssohn; but its development, like almost everything else connect ed with music, has been exceedingly rapid, writes Francis Toye in the Illustrated London News. The public, despite their enthusi asm, really know very little about conducting. They generally fail to realize, to begin with, that at least three-quarters of a conductor's work is done at rehearsal. What be does in actual performance matters, of course; but, provided that the foun dations of his interpretation have been well and truly laid at rehears al, it matters comparatively little. For this reason, the actual style of a conductor is of small importance. It may be restrained, it may be exuberant; the result can be Judged only by the listener who is ready to I shut his eyes and forget about the conductor and the orchestra alto gether. Needless to say, there is ? tech nique at conducting as there is a technique of everything else a clear beat, for instance; independ ent and intelligent use of the left hand. Some of the most successful conductors get, so to say, beyond this technique; some, for foar at rigidity, even make a definite point of avoiding the strict time beat. Such methods postulate, of course, not only a first class orchestra, but an orchestra familiar with the con ductor's methods; tried on a strange body of players, however talented, they may lead to great confusion. So it cannot be said that there is any general rule universally binding as to the methods that conductors should or should not employ. The ultimate test, as always with the arts, is the result. iiftMN Marriages Moat Japanese are married ac cording to the rites of Shinto, the religion at ancestor worship. Japa nese women usually are, like their menfolk, followers of Buddhism. ??i^ROVED' UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL Sunday i chool Lesson ? WHtatn W Vnkm. Leaaon for June 4 PAUL PLEADS HIS OWN CASH LESSON TEXT?Acts ?:??-*:?; ff:M> IS* J6 W-23 GOLDEN TSTf-I kiw bred tn all food conscience before God until thla day.? Acta 0:1. "They ear- What do they aayT Let them aayl" So read# the in scription over a doorway of one of the great schools at England. What does it mean? It bespeaks the con fidence of a life lived so nobly that the barbs flung out by wicked mid slanderous tongues may be faced without fear, in fact, ignored. The best defense against the at tacks of men is the testimony of a good life. Paul had lived suchi a life, and consequently when the hour came for him to speak in his own defense, he needed but to point to the record. It is significant that his enemies did not deny the facts. They could only cry out, throw off their garments and throw Austin the air while they shouted. Away with such a fellow from the earth! (Acts 22:22-24). They did, indeed, manufacture accusation. Mamst him, but even the heathen officials knew enough to throw these out at court. The impotent rage shown by wicked men when they run up against the consistent testimony of a true Christian life is one of the 1 strongest of testimonies to the gen uineness of faith. At first glance the portions aa signed for our lesson seem some what unrelated though taken from the same general narrative. A utile . study reveals a surprising unity. I. A Matter efCanvtetlsu (21:40? j 22:4). Many men and women have no real convictions. They areRepub licans or Democrats because their fathers were, and often they have not the remotest idea of l? have tho^?hen - ?- Tiff*! aKbW??? to give whole grain cereal* a prominent place m the diet. TM* rale can be followed era when cold cereal* are u*ed. For then are many nourishing ready-to-eat cereal* made from substantially the whole grain. These appeal t* the palate bec?u*e they are a* aniramt gg vr^mm B Old MM ?ftnim G, in wMirina t? etmrgy A UM Cereal Analyze* ^IVs mterentmc to analyre a poy wTand^^^aaMvta^ar? bxnth'aBpaf ?4?!e'^k."?9 pe^ eMej* adall with T per ant at ? 75 per cent of lie ra, al ? cC-TU. * kaWatk AROUND ?u HOUSE Win MaJtiac a FM Tiit Mix a little cornfloor with the sugar before adding it la the fruit. This win make the jaa? bhe syrup and prevent it frta bahat over. ? ? ? ? bad color should br naked lor St boon in ? quart af coU water to which a toaspoonftil at creaaa at tartar has been added. After wards I ana and dry. ? ? ? Cse tar Nanf*|an. ? Sara plenty of clean newspapers tor the er's ink. so you'll ted the papers bare to be stored away. ? a ? poa^iTfhxh*"n T*X ttfartte in which a pitta of nliiliatog about the tot of a walnut, has been dissolved. Use when dry. This gives a iplandid polish to mirrors, brass, and chromium. leum will last loafer if. instead of washing, you rub it all over with paraffin. This not only deans, but preserves. No other polish will be needed. i . ? ? ? in* coco* in place of chocolate. I use three and one-half tablespoan fuls of cocoa for each ounce of > poo nmi owner. ifei ? Ja&i * -x& ? mtuowTjlSattt jfOV m USING is m IBM Cyi del W fcwiaess as is EEH^'ilzE howtotppfyktoyorb^,,**. : 1