The Green Forest tribune., 1916-01-21


 ter with her, they brought. at her UT. 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 Allison's party. all killed Later is sues, however, respectfully 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 a most appreciatively accentuated his tory of the heroic work of the men. Although she regretted that her pie | ture had by this time crept into the public prints, grouped with the mur- 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 it's 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 ab- 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 1 possible direction, with the same com mendable persistence which we ob- serve in an ant to drag a grasshopper up and down a cornstalk on the way home.
 Little Miss Piper of the Morning Planet somewhat withered and puckered little woman, who had sense enough to dress so as to excite noth- 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 licity and had photographs taken once 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 a beautifully printed pho tograph, was devoted to 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, a count who had said How do you do?" and sailed for Europe, and two men whom she had never met All these crack elgibles were classi- fled under the general head of Slaves to Her Witching Smile." and a big, boxed-in list was given, in extremely bf Esck faCed type, stating, iv doIIaFs cnd cents, the exact value in the mat rimonlal 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. It ran into thirteen figures, including the dol lar mark and the two ciphers for cents.
 I Aal Ia All, 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 a powder puff, taken from 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 travelling veil The two girls expressed their condolence and their horror of the outrage, and vol ubly poured out more sympathy; then they sat down and shrieked with laughter.
 Its too awful for words!" gasped Lucille But it is funny. too"
 Calls chin quiyered.
 There should be law against such things, she broken-heartedly re- turned, in a voice which wavered and halted with the echoes of recent sobs.
 "Pll put the Planet out of busi- ness." stormed Jim Sargent, stalking up and down the library, with his fists clenched and his face purple. 'T'll bankrupt them!" and he paused, as he passed, to reassuringly pat the shoul- der of poor Aunt Grace, who sat per fectly numb holding one thumb until the bone acbed.
 The press is the palladium of our national liberty, Uncle Jim," drawled the soothing voice of Ted.
 You cant do a thing about it." counseled Gerald Fosland, stiff-look. ing gentleman who never made a mis- take of speech, or manner, or attire.
 "Shucks. Gail." suddenly remem. bered Lucille. The Big Faulkner re- ception is this week, and your gown was to be so stunning. Don't go home!"