Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-05-18

has blue eyes. and is very young Tor MS age.
How old would you take him for, Mrs.
Copleigh: Thirteeno Oh, his poor mother
over fifty! l suppose you couldnt-no, |
must go up to Toys and choose it myself,
sadly "You see to the handkerchief and
the perfumery, Mrs. Copleigh And-is
Advertising still on the phone? Tell her the
will be up right away. Can't you look
over the fur-trimmed broadcloths, the most
soiled ones, and try to get up an ad yourself
for once Mrs. Copleigh? What do | have
an assistant for?~
"Her temper's not improving. How can
put up with this another year," lamented
Mrs. Copleigh outside, with the drear re-
sentiment of one who will always be first as
sistant
And the Buyers face was even grayer
when she returned from TOYS. The Joyous,
jostling crowds loaded with packages; the
pushing, persistent parents, thinking only
of themselves; worst of all, the rosy, rackety
children
"Call a taxi, will you, Mrs Copleigh?"
said Miss Hartog. This has been a fright
fu1 season. I'm all in.
Every approaching forty line in her face
stood out clearly in evidence, with several
others that no masseuse had ever discovered.
1t had been fierce season. After twenty
five years of battling one begins to feel it.
Al the Oh 1HcSluuL
Miss Hartog signaled the driver to stop, and
stepping out went inside the telegraph office
and wired hundred dollars to Mr.. key
Wallenstein. Hotel Auditorium, Chicago.
"If that's all he married me for, she
thought DULY, she sha mt be disappointed
altogether"
"What time will it get there?7 she in
quired anxiously.
about five, Ma'am. It's only four thirty
there now"
Four thirty! About the hour Miss March
banks was RECALLING key with tea in her
luxurious dressing room-lnslpld tea IN
thimble-like cups. 1t took great deal to
induce key to drink tea.
"To the Stertorian,' directed Miss Har-
toy leaning back, all the old enamel bright
ness scraped from her voice.
FROM Monday A. NJ. to Saturday P. NJ.
Miss Hartog occupied a three-room suite
on the Stertorian seventh floor. Ordinarily
Miss Sidonie Sidenburg, the little wax-fgure
draper, slept on the divan and bore her COM
pany, half as maid, half as companion, sur
| rounded by every confectionery luxury!
But she too, unreasonable girl, had elected
to spend her Christmas away.
The suite was gloomily dark as Miss Har-
tog entered it, tipping over the vase of roses
before she could switch on the lights. The
divan was covered with bills and packages,
her laundry; two gowns back from the
cleaners; her heavy fur coat refined; jar
of special new tissue cream; and this,
marked "handle with care that newfangled
chin mask for sagging muscles that she had
thought she might try,-all addressed Miss
T. Hartog.'
Miss Hartog's first name was Esther; but
the entire world seemed to have forgotten it.
The career of Buyer does not encourage or
permit many close friendships. How many
people used it now? Two, onc-why, none,
not even Ikey! 1t must, of course, seem
poor, plain name beside Evangeline.
Miss Hartog wriggled dexterously from
her princess gown, sadly assumed her most
soiled, faded kimono, and otherwise prepared
for comfortable evening of misery.
No, she would not go down to dinner.
How could anyone manage to eat at Christ
mas? In the bedroom she picked up a silver
hand mirror and studied the dark rims be-
meath the eyes. Massage might keep the
tissues built up; but at moments like this
any unusual strain of fatigue darkened them
hideously And now, she had to admit,
what she had thought nothing of five years
ago now meant noticeable strain and fatigue.
And suppose she stopped the massage for a
| night, for a week? Suppose she stopped it
altogether? Oh, did there some day come an