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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1922-11-24, Page 7ftriar Male ..,,; Wpm out d faint. I. . -en something c t _ for seine time, b tt„i :Set him to tell m4 ,Finally he copes.' red and sore all ever,. I 8 xhlm ew vin g fie insisted upon going to work although he was anything • but well. I knew that hie trouble Was partly due to worry became) for some months before be half - Leen out of work: This put. us` :- 6o heavily in debt that the grocer and butcher refused to give us mere credit. It was being out of Work that worried my husband, He Wouldn't ouldn' afraid there would enot be enough food for the 'children. We were so poor that we had to keep the children from school because they had no clothes. I knew that if I could only get my husband strong and well again everything would be all right. He is a carpenter . by trade and when in good health earns good wages and he is al- ways i- ways sober and industrious.. But I knew that it was impossible for any man to do good work when he was ill and worried., I decided to speak to our old -family •doctor, who had retired from practice. When I explained how we were situated he gladly offered to do all he could to help us, although he didn't like to interfere with the new doctor's practice. Finally he said, 'What your husband needs is a good tonic and I know of nothing better than Carnol: I thought that if our old family doctor recommends Carnol it must be all right. On my way home I got a botble and before the first bottle had been used, my husband was a changed man. After he bad taken four bottles his ap- petite returned, he had more energy, that tired look in his eyes disappeared and what is most im- portant his wages have been more Otan,-doubled and he is now super- intendent of the wood working shop in which he formerly worked as a carpenter. Thanks to Carnol our troubles are over and we are once more a happy and contented family."' Carnol is sold by your druggist, and if you can conscientiously say, after you have tried it, that it hasn't done you any good, return the empty bottle to him and he will refund your money. 10-622 Sold by E. Umbach, Phm. B. woemu".79!iGl::1m9"'Gpi.Imlmtllnpmmp mignmmmms How Flour2 Feed and Grain sales are increased by Long Distance Some quotations from recent reports:.. "I use Long Distance en- tirely in my business (Hay and Grain). Sales are made quicker mud with less expensethan by trav- elling. Since yesterday J sold 2 cars of grain." "I sold 10,000 jute sacks on which my commission was $100.00 at an expense of $2.80 for L.D. calls." "I sold 3 customers in between $10,000 and $11,000 at a cost of 46 cents for Long Distance—a little over the price of two cigars." "We regularly make Long Distance sales to custom- ers from carload lots before placing orders for same." . "We accept reverse Long Distance calls on orders from cuttomers." We can telt you how to apply Lang Distance to almost any business Miss L. M. McCormack, Every Bell Telephone is . Long Distance Station NEW LAMP BURNS 94% AIR Beats Electric or Gas A new oil lamp that gives an amaz- ingly brilliant, soft, white light, even better than gas or electricity, has been tested by the U. S, Government and 86 leading universities and found to be superior to 10 ordinary oil lamps. It. burns without odor, smoke or noise—no pumping- up, is simple clean, safe. Burns 94% air and 89% kerosene (coal -oil). The inventor, P. N. Johnson, 248 Craig St, W. Montreal, is offering to send a lamp on 10 days' FREE trial, or even to give one FREE to the first user in each locality who will help him introduce it. Write him to -day for full particulars..` Also ask him to explain how you can get the agency and without experience or money make $250 to $500 per mouth, I L i. -rel (Conthiued from last week,) Thena new and cheerio thought e n g g, struck him. He rose quickly front his seat on the sofa' and cros$m4 the room to' get his hat; "It is a forlorn hope, Jack, but I'll try it. Come bask here in an hour —or stay here and.weit" • "No, I'll keep• moving," replied Jack. "I have thought of some sup- ply men who know me; our account is considera le•the would lend it to b y r. MacFarlane, but that's not the way I want it. I'll see them and get back as soon as I can—perhaps in a couple of hours." "Then make it eight o'clock, so as to be sure. I have thought of some- thing else. Ten thousand dollar's," he thousand dollars"—as he put on his hat and moved to the door. There he stopped and faced about—his bushy brows tightening as a new difficulty confronted him. "Well, but for how long?" That part of the transaction Jack had forgotten to mention. "I can't tell; maybe a year—maybe more." Peter' advanced a step as if to re- turn to -the room and give up the whole business. "But, Jack, my boy, don't you see how impossible a loan of that kind is?" Jack stood irresolute. In his mad desire tp save Garry he had not con- sidered that phase of the matter. "Yes—but I've got to have it," he cried in a positive tone. "You,would feel just as I do, if you knew the cir- cumstances." Peter turned without a word and opened the door leading into the hall. "Be back here at eight," was all he said as he shut the door behind him and clatterer down the uncarpeted stairs. Shortly before the appointed hour Jack again mounted the three flights of steps to Peter's rooms. Ho had had a queer experience—queer for him. The senior member of one sup- ply firm had looked at him -sharply, and had then said with a contemptu- ous smile, "Well, we are looking for ten thousand dollars ourselves, and will pay a commission to get it." An- other had replied that they were short or would be glad to oblige him, and as soon as Jack left the offstie had called to their bookkeeper to "send MacFarlane.his account, andsay we have some heavy payments to meet, and will he oblige us with a check' —adding to his partner—"Something rotten in Denmark, er that young fellow wouldn't be looking around for a wad as big as that." A third merchant heard him out, and with some feeling in his voice said: "I'm sorry for you, Breen"—Jack's need of money was excuse enough for the familiarity—"for Mr. MacFarlane thinks everything of you; he's told me so a dozen times—and there isn't aay finer man living than Henry MacFarlane. But, just as your friend, let me tell you to stay, out of the Street; it's no place for a young man like you. No—I don't mean any offence. If I didn't believe in you myself I wouldn't say it. Take my advice and stay out." And so footsore and heartsore, his face haggard from hunger, for he had eaten nothing since breakfast, his purpose misunderstood, his own character assailed, his pride humili- ated, and with courage almost gone, he strode into Peter's room and threw himself into a chair. Peter heard his step and entered from his bedroom, where he had fin- ished dressing for dinner. The old fellow seemed greatly troubled. One glance at Jack's- face told the story of the afternoon. "You have done nothing, Jack?" he asked in a despondent tone. "No—have you?" "Nothing. Portman has gone to his place on Long Island, the others were out. Whom did you see?" "Some people we do business with, some of them laughed at me; some gave me advice; none of them had any money." "I expected it. I don't think you are quite aware of what you ask, my dear boy." "Perhaps I am not, but I am be- ginning to see. It is a new experi- ence for me. If my father had want- ed the money for the same purpose for which I want this, he Mould not have had to drive a mile from ' his house before he would have had it." "Your father lived in a different atmosphere, my boy; in another age, really. In, his etyvironment money meant the education of children, the Comfort of women, and the hospitali- ties that make up social life. "Well, is not that true now, among decent people?" protested Jack, his mind going back to some homes he remembered. "No—not generally—not here in New York. Money here means the right to exist on the planet; ten fight for it as we do for our lives. Your own need of this ten thousand dol- lars proves it. The men I tried to find this afternoon have more than they need or ever will need ; that's why I called on them. If I lost it, it .wouldn't matter to them, but I would never hear the last of it all the same," and a shudder ran through him. Peter did not tell Jack that had Portman been at home and, out of friendship for him, had agreed to his request, he would have required the old fellow's name on a demand note for the amounnt a the loan; .and that he. would willingly have signed it, to relieve. the boy's mind and ward off tbe.calamity that threatened those he loved and those who loved him—not one centof which, the Scribe adds in all positiveness, would the boy have taken` had he known that the dear fellow had in any way pledged him- self for its return. . For some minutes Jack sat stretch- ed out ins his chair, his body aslant ; Peter still beside him. All the events of the a and. night ht passed dayin ra- g view before him; •Garr 's face and heavy `breathing; McGowan's visit and defiance; Corinne's agonized shriek—even he remembfance made him creep—then Ruth's voice and her pleading look: "The poor little boy, Jack. He has done no wrong—all his life he must be pointed at." He dragged himself to his feet. I will go hack to Ruth now, Uuc•le Peter. Thank you for trying. I know it is_a wild goose chase, but I must keep moving. You will be out to -morrow; we bury poor Garry at one o'clock. I still have all day Mon- day. Good -night." "Came out and dine with me, my bay—we will go to—" "No, Ruth is worrying. I will get something to eat'when I get hone. Guod-right !" CHAPTER XXIX Jack descended Peter's stairs one step at a time. Each seemed to plunge him the deeper into some pit of despair. Before he reached the bottom he began to realize the futil- ity of his. efforts. He began to re- alize, too, that both he and Ruth had been swept off their feet by their emotions. MacFarlane, the Elder Breen, and now Peter, had all either openly condemned his course or had given it scant encou'ragement. There was nothing to do now but go home and tell Ruth. Then, after the fun- eaalwas over, he would have another talk with MacFarlane. He had reached the cool air of the street, and stood hesitating whether to cross the Square on his way to the ferry, or to'turn down the avenue when the door of Isaac Cohen's shop opened, and the little tailor • put out his head. "i have been waiting for you," ho said in a measured voice. "Come in- side." Jack was about to tell him that he must catch a train, when something in the tailor's manner and the earn- estness with which he spoke, made the young fellow alter his mind and follow him. The little man led the way through the now darkened and empty shop, lighted by one gas jet—past the long cutting counter flanked by shelves bearing rolls of cloth and paper pat- terns, around the octagon stove where the irons were still warm, and through the small door which led into his private room. There he turned up a reading lamp, its light softened by :i green shade, and motioning Jack to a seat, said abruptly, but politely— more as a request than a demand: "I hays a question to ask you, and you will please tell me the truth. How much money do you want, and what do you want it for?" Jack bit his lip, He wanted money and he wanted it badly, Jrut the tailor had no right to pry into his private affairs -certainly not in this way. "Well, that was something I was talking to Uncle Peter about," he re- joined stiffly. "I suppose you must have overheard." • "Yes, i did. Go on jiow much money do you want, and what do you want it for?" "But, Mr. Cohen, I don't think I ought to bother you with my trou- bles. They wouldn't interest you." "Now, my dear young man, you will please not misunderstand me. You are very intelligent, and you are very honest, and you always say what is in your heart; I have heard you do it many times. Now say it to me." There was no mistaking the tailor's earnestness. It evidently was not mere curiosity which prompted him. It was something else. Jack wonder- ed vaguely if the Jew wanted to turn money -lender at a big percentage. "Why do you want to know?" he asked; more to gain time to fathom his purpose than with any intention of giving him the facts. Isaac, went to his desk, opened with great deliberately an ebony box, took out twa cigars, offered one to Jack, leaned over the lamp until his own was alight, and took the chair op - T T' cei Isaac;'. 4t' `' l~ n 'spmea ho>iie, he wav * jA Opd ag0in:' I kalwanowys a ;every halppying inea4oa b aceTha, t is and -it : dilair'.tlle, one. yolb a'$, sitting In, Noe or twice, a wseli I'go up and sit in hie chair ..and toile In ali* the' years I have_vknown Mal I have only seen flim' -tri'onbled 'mice or twice. Then I asked him' the reason, and he told me. To -day I' heard you speak about some money you wanted . and then I saw `that something had -gone wrong". After I left he came down- stairs and passed my -window and did not look in. I watched him go up the .street, he walked very slow, and his head was down on his chest. I did not like it. A little while ago he came back; !Arent out to meet him: I said, 'Mr. Grayson, what troubles you?" And he said—'Nothing, Isaac, thank you,' and went upstairs. That is the first time in all thee Y are I know him that he answered me like that. So now I ask you once more— how much money do you walit, and what do you want it for? When I know this, then I will know what troubles Mr. Grayson. There is al- ways a woman or a sum of money at the bottom of every complication. Mr. Grayson never worries over either. I do not believe you do, but I have had many surprises in my life." Jack had heard him through with- out interruption. Most. of it — es- pecially Cohen's affection for Peter— he had known before. It was the last statement ,that roused him. "Well, if you must know, Mr. Co- hen—it is not for myself, but for a friend." The Jew smiled. He saw that the young man had told the truth. Peter's confidence in the boy,'then, need not be shaken. "And how much money do you need for your friend?" His eyes were still reading Jack. "Well, a very large sum." Jack did not like the cross-examination, but somehow he could not resent it. "But, my dear young man, will you not tell me? If you buy a coat, do . you not want to know the price? If you pay for an indiscretion, is not the sum named in the settlement?" "Ten thousaad- dollars." There was no change in the Jew's face. The smile did not alter. 'And this is the money that Mr. Grayson tried to borrow for you, and failed? Is it not so?" Jack nodded. "And you have tried everywhere to get it yourself? All the afternoon you have been at it?" Still the same queer smile—one of confirmation; as if he had known it all the time. Again Jack nodded. Isaac was either.a mind reader or he must have been listening at the keyholes -when he poured out his heart to Peter. "Yes, that is what I thought when I saw you come in a little while ago, dragging your feet as if they were lead, and your eyes on the ground. The step and the eye, Mr. Breen, if you, did but know it, make a very good conftnercial agency. When the eye is bright and the walk is quick, your customer has the money to pay either in his pockets or in his bank; when the step is dull and sluggish, you take a risk; when the eye looks about with an anxious glance and the step is stealthy, and then when you take the measure for the coat, both go out dancing, you may never get a penny. But that is only to tell you how I know," the tailor chuckled softly. "And now one thing more" — he was serious now—"when must you have this ten thousand dollars?" "Before Monday night." "In- cash?" "In cash or something I can get cash on," The tailor rose from his seat with a satisfied aid—he had evidently reached the point he had been -striving for—laid the stump of his cigar on the edge of the mantel, crossed the room, fumbled in the side pocket of a coat which hung on a nail in an open closet; drew out a small key; sauntered leisurely to his desk, all the while crooning a tune to himself — Jack following his every move- ment, wondering what it all meant, and half regretting that he had not kept on to the ferry instead of wast- ing his time. Here he unlocked a drawer, took out a still smaller key — a flat one this time—removed some books and a small Barye bronze tiger from what appeared to be a high square table, rolled back the cloth, bringing into view an old-fashioned safe, applied the key and swung back a heavy steel.door. Here, still croon- ing his song in a low key, dropping it and picking it up again as he moved — quite as does the grave -digger in "Hamlet"—he drew forth a long, flat bundle and handed it to Jack. "Taken them, Mr. Breen, and put them in`your-inside pocket. There are ten United States Government bonds. If these Breen people will not lend you the amount of money you want, take them to Mr. Grayson's bank. Only do not tell him I gave them to you. I bought them yester- day and was going to lock them up in my safe deposit vault, only I could not leave my shop. Oh, you needn't look so scared. They are good," and he loosened the wrapper. .Tack sprang from his seat. For a, moment he could not speak. "But, Mr. Cohen! Do you know I haven't any security to offer you, and that I have only my salary and—" "Have I asked you for any?" Isaac replied with a slight shrug, a quizzi- cal smile crossing his face. "No—but "Ah, then, we will not talk about it. You are young—you are hard- working; you left a very rich home oft -Fifth Avenue to go and live in a dirty hotel in a country village --all because you were honest; you risked your life to save your employer; and ' 0 ! s 00 • a iaPO .nieroh .)sick had pis brea.'tk►:' llpry e had also Imago UP bis mien, ',r�alry� drop of blood in his ,body woe in ro• volt.' Take money from a Jew tailor whom behad not aeon half a dozen times; Cwith. whim be bad no business relations ,or dealings, Or" even andel aequnintanee$ -- He laid the bonds back on the•deek. "I cannot take them, .Mr. Cohen. I thank you most sincerely, but—no— you must not give them to me. I—" Isaac wheeled suddenly - and drew himself up. His little mouse eyes were snapping and his face flex* red. "You will not take them! Why?" "I dent know—I can't!" "I know!" he criedangrily, but with a certain dignity, It is be- cause I am _a Jew. 'Not because I am a tailor—you have. too much sense for that—but because I am a Jew!" "Oh, Mr. Cohen!" t "Yess—I know—I see inside of you. T read you just as if you were a page ip a book. Who taught you to think that? Not your Uncle Peter; he loves me—I love him. Who taught you such nonsense?" His voice had risen with every sentence. In his in- dignation he looked twice his size. "Is not my money as good as that man Breen's—who insults you when you go to him?—and who laughed at you. Have I laughed at you? Does Mr. Grayson laugh?" Jack tried to interrupt, but the tailor's words poured on. ' ""And pow let roe tell you one'thiPg' more, r' or M.n �rJoh ee n, .Ido nRt grve you the bonds. I give theta. to 'Iflr. Grayson. 'Never once has be insulted me as,you do now. All these years— fifteen years this winter—he has been my, friend. And now when the boy, whom he loves wants some money for a friend, and Mr. Grayson has none to give him, and I, who am Mr. Grayson's friend, come to help that boyout f o his trouble,You— ou—re- Y member, you who have nothing to do with it -.you turn up your nose and stop it all. Are you not ashamed of yourself?" Jack's eyes blazed. He was not accustomed to be spoken to in that way by anybody; certainly not by a tailor. "Then give them to Uncle Peter," Jack flung back. "See what he will say." "No, I will not give them to your Uncle Peter. It will spoil everything with me if he knows about it. He always does things for me behind my h i' ,)roc. ugµ n f)I. c r. "hera'arfl nee, young man; 1' have: 49' no grandchild, 1 Aire you see how small It know; why?---beeauso I OT s ha + here. • I knew what it is and I 'know what it is fen .ot,Ije ple to safer, I have .seen one del* try in London, hi a year Stl will f n on seei. rens ...5�, Y h alf9.' ten bonds there are of no maid, Jr to me than an extra coat of paler+" that door.' I have many more alk them shut up In a box. Almost* day people come to me for Mon sometimes they get it--ofteney . do not I have no money. for :llggr."".' gars, or for idlers, or for liars. I have worked all my/life, and shall to the end—and so must they. Now and then something happens like this. Now do you understand?" (Continued next week,) APURE HARD A full-size, full -weight, solid bar of good soap is "SURPRISE." Best for any and all household use. ` For use in washing machines shave or slice a portion of the "SURPRISE" •bar direct to the machine.—It will do fine work. a,Le0u3i'.ft' l�i�($,:v,"dq `iar ,1,0. ti„u,,,a.,:a a ..,_.i.�"i. ar , 4 an4.1.