Life — May 3, 1906 — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

fenry much pped, chen 0 the alder, lone, | that of a 1S any. rything 1 down p me!” ll of a experi: nsealed that it OT OE —— “And ye didn’t go back?” he uttered in awed tone. “Go back? To her? The stranger stretched his legs under the table, and led his arms, as he looked Henry’s meagre form up and down with some- of pity. “There ain’t nothin’ this side of Jordan could get me back! + did I go for? A man’s only got one life, I reckon, and if he feels that | devilled out of him, what’s he got? There warn’t but one thing to | I done it. I left.” ry sighed. His rolled-up shirtsleeve showed a very thin arm, and there Zto his pinched face born of unique excitement. He bal- anced his knife “Warum—my wife’s first husband—went in the war, too. He was killed,” presently he stranger took his pipe out and filled it deliberately. “She mourned a heap, I reckon?” he said gravely. Henry nodded again. “Terrible! I never seen him, but he was a mighty fine man—’cordin’ to Manda. I hear of him—I hear a heap of him—from Manda. There wasn’t a thing Warum couldn’t do—cordin’ to her.” Henry sighed a little, and the stranger’s pipe paused in the act of lighting. “Th ?” he said, interestedly. I reckon he had everything his way in this house—Warum did! The stranger lighted his pipe and then closed his eyes in the luxury of the first smoke. A smile of complete satisfaction gathered at their corners. ntly he said: “Kind of man that always wiped his boots careful, eh?” Henry looked surprised. “Always!” “Never had to wash the dishes, ch?” Henry stared. “Like you do,” added the other, and again Henry nodded. “Or chum?” said the stranger. Another nod. “Or milk?” Henry shook his head and sighed a little. “THe wasn’t the kind—’cordin’ to Manda, she’d never dared—” The stranger coughed suddenly. “Reckon you don’t smoke in here?” he said. “No, sir—that is, you see, it smells up the place—my wife’s mighty particu- lar.” The other blew a deliberate cloud of smoke to the ceiling with unconcealed enjoyment, then turned his eyes on Henry Summalt. “Lused to be just that kind of a jack-rabbit! Wear an apron in the house?” Henry’s pale face colored in the lamplight, and he nodded. “Better for my clothes,” he said apologetically. ‘The stranger arose and knocked his pipe in the chimney, and stood looking down on the other. “Yep; that’s it. I had one. Yes, sir! I washed dishes and churned and milked and swept and boot-brushed and got browbeat and pretty well tarred inside with bread and spreadin’ and—yes, sir— I wore an apron! If I see one hangin’ to a line now, I swear loud at it!” Henry’s hands were on his knees. The luxury of this confidence was too ccep for expression, ‘The stranger suddenly clapped his hand upon his side and added: “Then one night—when I set on the back step eatin’ bread and spreadin’, with the dishes waitin’, it come to me thet I wam’t bom a hen chicken, and, sir, I lit out that night and ’listed! Yes, I did! I was gettin’ as puny and poor-livered as you!”” “Dunno how you dared!” said Henry, softly. on yourn calls you a fool pretty regular?” added the stranger, Henry nodded. “And you ain’t doin’ nothin’ to prove you ain’t?” Henry’s upward gaze was appealing. “A woman like that—like Manda—don’t leave a man much chance to be anythin’ else, does she now? She’s mighty high-flyin’ an’—an’——”” Tempery and high-colored,” said the other. “I know ’em! I had one.” “An’—an’, handsome, some folks think,” added Henry. he other adjusted his pipe. “Gimme a bowl of mush in preference,” he said. Henry’s heart was beating rapidly. ‘It’s mighty queer to sit an’ talk of it,” he said. “I ain’t met you before, neither, an’—an’—it’s all queer, the way you come in an’ ali—but, I do say, sir, you seem to know more than anybody I (367) How Much Is Satisfaction Worth to You? If it is worth the trouble of cutting a coupon and mailing it, then do it—rightaway. We guarantee the satisfaction. If you don’t get it, we refund your money—without asking you to return any goods. Makaroff Russian Cigarets are not sold through dealers. They are made and sold by connois- seurs for, and direct to, other connoisseurs. Americans are rapidly finding out what Euro- peans have known for a long time—that a Russian Cigaret of high quality is the only one in the world worth the attention of a connoisseur. Americans are naturally the most discriminating people in the world, once they are given achance to discriminate. The Americans have been “ex- ploited” on cigarets, just as they have on other things. 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