Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1915-12-10

ter with her, they brought, at her ur-
gent request, copies of the extras"
which were already being yelled from
every street corner and down every
quiet residence block.
The accounts were, in the main.
more or less accurate, barring the fact
that they started with the assumption
that there had been one hundred in
All1son's party, all killed. Later is
sues. however, regretfully reduced the
number Of dead to forty, six. and
finally none. at which point they be-
came more or less coherent, and gave
an exact list Of the people who we're
there, the cause of the accident, and
most appreciatively accentuated his
tory of the heroic work OF the men.
Although she regretted that her pic
ture had by this time crept into the
public prints, grouped with the MUIR
ders and defalcations Of the day, she
was able to overlook this personal
discomfort as one of the minor PEN
alties which civilization has paid for
Its progress, like electric light bugs
and electric fan neuralgia, and the
smell OF gasoline.
In the meantime, the representa-
tives of the gay and care-free and abb
solutely uncurbed metropolitan press.
were by no means discouraged by the
fact that they had not been able to
secure much, except hectic imaginings
from the exterior of the Sargent
house. They were busy in every other
possible direction, with the same COM
mendable persistence which we OBJ
serve in an ant to drag grasshopper
up and down a cornstalk on the way
home.
Little Miss Piper of the Morning
Planet, q somewhat withered and
puckered little woman, who had sense
enough to dress so as to excite moth
ing but pity, quietly slipped on her
ugly little bonnet with the funny rib
bon bow in the back, and hurried out
to the magnificent residence of Mrs.
Phyllis Worthmore, who loathed pub
icity and had photographs taken once
a month for the purpose.
The result of that light-hearted and
light-headed interview, in which Mrs.
Phyllis Worthmore, by special request.
was not quoted, suddenly sprang on
the startled eyes Of Gail, when she
leaped through the Sunday Morning
Planet at eight o'clock next morning.
An entire page, embellished in the
center with beautifully printed pho
tograph, was devoted to the sensa-
tional beauty from the middle West!
Around her we're grouped nine
smaller photographs: Allison, Dick
Rodley, Willis Cunningham, Houston
Van Ploon, Rev. Smith Boyd. sailow
youth who had danced with her three
times, count who had said "How do
you do?" and sailed for Europe. and
two men whom she had never met.
All these crack eligibles we're classi-
fed under the general head of Slaves
to Her Witching Smile and big,
boxed-in list was given, In extremely
black-faced type, stating, in dollars
and cents, the exact value in the mat
rimonial market of each slave; and
the lively genius who had put together
this symposium, by toweringly happy
thought conceived in the very height
of the rush hours, totaled the whole,
and gave it as the commercial worth
of Calls beauty and charm. 1t ran
into thirteen figures, including the dol
lar mark and the two ciphers for
cents.
When Lucille Teasdale and Arly Eos
land arrived at Jim Sargent's house
at ten O'Clock, and had been let in
at the side entrance, they found Gail
dabbing her eyes with powder puff.
taken from a little black travelling bag
which stood open at her side. Arlene
was a second later than Lucille in
clasping Gail in her arms, because she
had to lift a travelling veil. The two
girls expressed their coincidence and
their horror of the outrage. and vol
ubly poured out more sympathy: then
they sat down and shrieked with
laughter.
"It's too awful for words!" gasped
Lucille. But it is funny, too"
Calls chin Quivered.
O9Ss@AAO" 1890
things" she broken-heartedly re-
turned, in voice which wavered and
halted with the echoes of recent sobs.
"Ill put the Planet out Of bust
ness!" stormed Jim Sargent, stalking
up and down the library. with his fists
clenched and his face purple. I'll
bankrupt them!" and he paused, as he
passed, to reassuringly pat the shout
der of poor Aunt Grace, who sat per-
fectly numb holding one thumb until
the bone ached.
1.-THE press is the palladium OF our
national liberty, Uncle JIM" drawled
the soothing voice Of Ted.
"You can't do a thing about it.
counseled Gerald Fosland, stiff-look-
ing gentleman who never made mis-
take of speech, or manner, or attire.
"Shucks, Call" suddenly remem-
bered Lucille. 1.-THE Big Faulkner re-
ception is this week. and your gown