The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1916-03-09

:" 49, shCS SAou6hss 100
gent request, copies Of The extras"
which were already being yealea tsen
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
Allison'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 were
there, the cause of the accident, and
O most approximately accumulated 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
aities 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-
tfves Of the gay and care-free and alb
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 a 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 Worthmors, who loathed pub
licity and had photographs taken once
a month for the purpose.
The result OF that light-hearted and
nght-headed interview, in which Mrs.
Phyllis Worthmore, by special request.
was not quoted, suddenly sprang on
the startled eyss Of Gail. when she
ieaped through tie Sunday Morning
Planet at eight O'Clock next morning.
An entire page, smbellished in the
osnter with a beautifully printed pho
toSraph, was devoted 70 the sensa-
tional beauty from the middle West!
Around her were grouped nine
smaller photographs: Allison, Dick
Rodley, Willis Cunningham, Houston
Van Ploon, Rev. Smith Boyd, a sallow
youth who had danced with her three
times, q count who had said How do
you do?" and sailed for Europe. and
two men whom she had never met.
All these crack eligibles were classi-
fed under the general head of Slaves
to Her Witching Smile" and a 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 a toweringly happy
thought conceived in the very height
OF the rush hours, totaled the whole.
and gave 1t 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 eyss With a powder pun,
taken from q little black travelling bag
which stood opea at her side. Arlene
was a second later than Lucille In
clasping Gail In her arms, because shs
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.
Its too awful fer words!" gasped
Lucille. But 1t Is funny. too"
Calls chin quivered.
mere SlOuIQ Dc u law against suCn
things" she broken-heartedly 70
turned, in a voice which wavered sna
halted with the echoes OF recent sobs.
ri put the Planet o9t Of busi-
ness!" stormed Jim Sargent. stalking
up and down the library. With his fists
clenched and his face purple "Tn
bankrupt them!" and he paused. az 10
passed, to reassuringly pat the sAool-
der of poor Aunt Grace. who sat per-
fectly numb holding n thumb until
the bone ached.
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, a stiff-look-
ing gentleman who never made q mis-
take Of speech, or manner, or attire.
"Shucks, GALL" suddenly remem-
bered Lucille. THE Big Faulkner re-
eeption 10 this week. and your gown
was to be 30 stunning. Don't go
home!"
Mrs. Helen Davies cast on her
fsather-braiasd daughter a glance Of
severe reproof.