DILLY’S
DR.1LAM
ny MABEL GIFFORD
jumanzase
(Copyright..)
sssnBudi
Such great, great troubles grow
from such small, small offenses. That
is the way my trouble grew. When
you get. into a little bit of a temper
you had better "watch out," for you
can never tell that a little bit of tem
]>er will not grow into a furious tem
pest before it clears off.
My name was Dilly Doell. T always
liked my name. 1 think perhaps it
was on account of my name that
everybody was so pleasant to me. You
can't snap out, or roar out, or grumble
out "Dilly.” Just try If you can. Now,
my name is Dilly Doell Dixon. 1 added
the “Dixon” five years ago. Every
thing was pleasant before that, and
everything has been a hundred times
pleasanter since, for "Dixon” means
one of the dearest husbands that ever
was made.
At home they called me "Dilly
Dear,” and after I was Dixon, It was
“Dilly Dear” Just the same. So It
doesn't matter what comes after the
flrat name, for It’s always "Dilly
Dear.”
But that little btt of a temper—I
will tell you about It. First, you
should be Informed that I live in a
little country town. It's pretty enough
and pleasant enough, but you know a
little country town is about the same
all the year around. This town is.
And sometimes, you know, you wish
something would happen. %
One day a theater troupe came Into
town. Such a thing never had come
to pass in this town before to my
knowledge.
I rushed at Donald when he came
home to dinner and told him about it.
“Pshaw!” was what he said.
Now, such a dash of cold water over
one, after one has been dancing all
the morning in happy anticipation, is
« tremendous shock to one's nervous
system. Especially if one is not used
to shocks.
Duly Dear, you don t care any
thing about that affair;” he put his
■arm about me and was leading me to
the table as if there was nothing in
the world of any consequence but din
ner.
By this time I was feeling the reac
tion of the shock, and the hot blood
rushing fast to my head set fire to my
bit of a temper, and 1 answered Don
ald sharply:
“But 1 do care: I am going to the
play.”
"Oh. no, Dilly Dear; you will not
go to such a low place as that,” he
said, marching me right along to the
table.
"Low! It isn't low. It's nice green
grass and a nice, big white tent and
beautiful music and elegant people.
Nothing ever came here before. I
never saw anything anyway, and 1 am
just wild to go. 1 have been thinking
of it all the morning; I couldn't wait
'for you to come home.”
I leaned my head against Donald's
shoulder. I did not expect it would be
necessary to say anything more.
“Dilly Dear, I am sorry you care so
much, but you must not go. It is not
a fit place for you.”
"Must not go!” just think of that;
"must not!” Who ever had said such
words to me before? I must go; in
deed I must. I could not bear tp be
disappointed. I had promised my
friend, Mrs. Chase, 1 would go with her.
"Dilly Dear,” then he put his hands
on my shoulders and looked very kind
ly into my eyes, "then I shall have to
forbid your going.”
“Forbid!” indeed! I shook his hands
from my shoulders. He made up his
mind that 1 was an obstinate child,
and dealt with me accordingly.
"If you cross that threshold to
“Mrs. Dixon, I Mean Exactly What I
Say."
night, you do not come back. Do you
understand?”
Ah, yes, I understood. He meant to
frighten me. Partly because I did not
believe he meant it, and partly be
cause I was so nervous, and partly, I
believe, to tease him, I laughed.
“Mrs. Dixon,” he said, with such a
face as I never had seen before, "I
mean exactly what I said.”
Then he went out, and I listened
until he was out of hearing. When I
got to Mrs. Chase's I was out of
breath.
When we got to the tent It was half
filled with people, mostly men and
boys, and the women—there were
several I had seen in the street, but
they were not nay acquaintances, and
the rest were not like any women I
had ever seen in our little country
town. I was not pleased with the
audience.
But the play; I will not try to
describe it. I had expected to be
charmed, to be “carried away" by ex
citement, to laugh and cry and forget
that it was not real. Instead of all
that, it seemed affected and disgust
ing. The characters made coarse
Jests and leered and frowned and
threatened and fainted and raved, and
I tried to forget that it was acting, and
couldn’t.
From the Chases’ I went home
alone. The house was dark.
“The hall lamp Is left for me,” I
thought, and I ran up the steps and
gave the door a good push, for I
wished to get in out of the rain as
soon as possible.
The door did not open. I turned the
key again and again, but in vain.
“Donald is so used to bolting it, he
has forgotten,” I said, and rang the
bell vigorously. All was silent. It was
the most desolate moment of my life.
I knew that Donald should have kept
the house lighted and been waiting
for me. This lockout was ominous.
I ran back to Mrs. Chase's.
"Donald is so used to bolting the
door, he has forgotten and bolted me
out. and 1 can't make him hear with
out rousing the neighborhood.”
Of course they cordially ushered
me in and made me comfortable for
the night, but I saw them exchange
glances, and I knew they suspected all
was not right. It was a bitter night
for me, and I couldn't sleep for think
ing.
Morning came at last, and with dif
ficulty I made my way to my home.
It seemed as if I must die then and
there, when 1 found the house closed,
shades drawn, door locked and no
sign or sound of a human being about
the place. But pride and indignation
came swiftly to the rescue. I feared
some one would see me trying in vain
to enter my own home and turned
quickly away and walked on, thinking
as l walked what my next step should
be. 1 was very indignant with Donald
j for punishing me so severely for brav- .
ing Ills displeasure. Now I would
frighten him a little. Probably he had
gone to my sister's or his brother’s.
He knew I could find him easy enough.
He had been too severe, cruel. Now
I would take my turn. I had a roll of
bills in my purse that Donald had
given me the day before. I would go
out of town for a day or two and let
him find me if he could. And all the
time something kept adding: “If he
would.”
I had often heard people say that
these mild-tempered people are terri
ble when once aroused, and now I be
gan to understand something of it. I
had not believed anything like this of
Donald.
I recalled every possible acquaint
ance I had ever had that lived in the
city. I decided upon an old school
friend, whom I had not seen since she
married and went to the city, and of j
whom Donald knew nothing. I hunted .
her up, found her living humbly but ,
comfortably, and quite delighted to I
see me. I told her I was taking a little \
outing and would like to engage a i
room for several days, she was so con- |
venient to an art-exhibit that I wished <
to vfsit. Little she dreamed of the
tragedy I lived during those days. I
bought the daily papers and scanned
their columns, hoping for some word
meant for none of the thousands of
readers but myself.
All in vain. My courage failed me
so that I was afraid to go home. Then
1 began to scheme again, but every
scheme failed. Little by little my
pride and anger oozed away, and at
last ! was ready to go down on my
knees before the whole world and
beg my husband to take me back.
Then I went to my friend and bade
her good-by and set out on my un
happy journey homeward. The thought
of my husband now filled me with ter
ror; he had grown into a sort of ogre
during the last few days.
1 was in such a fever of suspense as
I neared the house that I could hardly
breathe. If it should be closed still!
I did not know what happened after
that, until I heard some one saying
in the tenderest of voices;
“Dilly Dear, what is It? Are you
frightened? Are you 111?”
I opened my eyes to find myself in
my own room and Donald bending
over me with the most anxious con
cern in his face. I just put my arm
around his neck and cried so violently
1 could not speak. He smoothed my
hair and said "Dilly Dear, Dilly Dear,”
until I was quieter.
"What would you say to me, Donald,
if I went to the play?” 1 asked, as
soon as 1 could speak.
"Do you care so much about it? Is
it that has sent you into hysterics?”
“Just supposing I go, what will you
do?" I persisted.
"Why. do? Why—I shall have to go
with you. I suppose. And if you are
going to take it to heart like this we
had better go. But, Dilly Dear, I am
surprised at you.”
And then I began to laugh, and
laughed so long that Donald begged
me to tell him what I was laughing
for.
‘‘Because you are the dearest hus
band rn the world,” I answered him.
Of course he was puzzled over that.
“You wouldn’t let me go off alone,
would you? You wouldn’t call me
‘Mrs. Dixon,’ would you? You
wouldn't ‘forbid’ my going, and tell
me I never should come back again if
I went, would you?”
Having received a satisfactory an
swer to these questions I told him my
dream. And he smoothed my hair
all the time I was relating, and when
I finished he said: “Dilly Dear.”
A Hard Debt to Pay
“I owe a debt of gratitude that can
never be paid off.” writes G. S. Clark
of Westfield, Iowa, ‘‘for my rescue
from death, by Dr. King’s New Dis
covery. Both lungs were so seriously
affected that death seemed imminent,
when I commenced taking New Dis
covery. The ominous dry, hacking
cough quit before the first bottle was
used, and two more bottles made a
complete cure.” Nothing has ever
equaled New Discovery for coughs,
colds and all throat and lung com
plaints. Guaranteed by ,T. I. Sturdi
vant druggist. 50c and $1.00. Trial
bottle free.
A Cash Offer
The Journal has made a special
clubbing rate with The Memphis
Weekly Commercial Appeal by which
we will furnish both papers for one
year for The Journal’s regular sub
scription price, $1.00. The Commercial
Apj>eal is one of the largest and best
papers in the South, and we hope to
receive many new subscription on this
offer: $1.00 cash for both papers.
<0» <0» ^ J
Rapid chahges of temperatjire are hard
on the toughest, constitution.
The conductor passing from the heated
inside of a trolley car to the icy temperature
of the platform—the canvasser spending an
hour or so in a beated building and then
walking against a biting wind—know the
difficulty of avoiding cold.
Scott's Emutston strengthens the
body so that it can better withstand the
danger of cold from changes of temperature. &
It will help you to avoid taking cold., J
ALL DRUGGISTS I SOc. AND $1.00. A
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OUT
We have decided to leave Newark in a short time, and we
have a nice, new stock of Men’s, Boys’ and Children’s
Clothing, Suits, Pants and a nice line of fine Rain Coats
and Overcoats; also a complete stock of Shoes for all classes
of trade; a nice, new stock of Hats, and, in fact, a : : •
A Complete Stock of
General flerchandise, Which
WE MUST CLOSE OUT!
These goods must be turned into cash within the next sixty days, as we do
not want to have any of these goods moved. Come in and see us, and if price
is any inducement to you, we can certainly do business with you. We are
offering some great bargain in Men’s Overcoats and Pants. Come in and look
over our stock.
We thank the many good people of Newark and surrounding country who
have given us their trade for the past six years, and while we have many good
friends and customers whom we hate to leave, yet, under the circumstances, we
feel that it is to our best interest to do as we are doing.
Again thanking you, we are Your Friends,
GRIFFITH & MORROW
All parties who are indebted to us by note or account will please come in
and settle, as we want to wind up our business at once.
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nfr************♦»»*» »»■»»■»
ADAMS BROS.
Cottor) aod Corn Buyers
And Dealers in General Merchandise.
•®“ To the Farmers‘-We want your produce, and will pay
you the highest market price in cash or trade.
Newark, ..... Arkansas
Commercial Printing of All Kinds Neatly
and Promptly Done at The Journal Office
W. N. LEWIS
— Solicitor For —
Monuments,
Headstones,
and Tablets.
— Phone No. 41; 3 rin^s —
Newark, . . Arkansas
DR. IRA H. ERWIN
SPECIALIST
Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat
Rooms 8 and 9
Wishon Buildg
Newport,
Long Distance
I Phone No 74-2
Arkansas
J QUALLS'
BOOT AND SHOE SHOP 4
Repair work of all kinds
Neatly and Promtly Done
There’s a Way
To defeat the mail order man’s
Th?tti# community.
pubUcity for y°ur busines*
^SE?LwiU 8179 your business the
publicity you need.
I