58 1 
What Is This 
American Agriculturist, January 19, iq 
Dress Worth? 
Before you guess I want you to know that the 
dress sparkles with richest style—a duplicate in 
design of an expensive Parisian gown at a price 
you will ha rdly believe possible! 
By Virginia Castleton 
Visualize yourself in this beau¬ 
tiful frock of soft, shimmer- 
| ing Egyptian silk Paisley and 
Navy Blue Longwear Gabar¬ 
dine Serge 1 See yourself the 
envy of all in this lovely 
creation showing the deft 
touches of gif ted French de¬ 
signers. Recreated under 
my personal direction. 
Mannish type collar, 
' tiny vestee (button 
, trimmed) and cuffs 
of Serge. Soft all 
around girdle 
with loose tie 
Bash. The beau¬ 
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the newest 
; touch — jit-inch 
: knife pleats all- 
arou nd— a 
feature found 
on all of the 
new impor¬ 
tations. Waist 
and skirt both cut 
full for perfect fitting to 
all types of figures—a 
clever feat of tailoringl 
Even older women may 
.wear itl 
mhkM 
YMl. £ ■ 
■m 
A •>. 
i 
\\ ’ 
;{•••• .4 u 
■■■■iifit> 
5 wmm 
fl||! 
II 
And Now for a 
Pleasant Surprise! 
What is my price? Might 
I ask you $9 or 112 or »7? 
Is such elegant style not 
worth it? But, my dear, 
you shall not pay a 
single cent additional 
for the extras in style, 
because my price is 
only $3.89! Yes, that 
is ali. Would you 
ever dream itpos- 
, sible! But you will 
not fully believe or 
appreciate until you see 
it. Try it entirely at my 
risk — because my com¬ 
pany guarantees you 
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But be quick! This amaz¬ 
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long. And I do so want 
every woman in America 
to have one. 
Colors 
Navy 
Blue or 
Brown 
SEND NO 
MONEY 
dost write me giving your 
size. 1 will then send you 
--- .....__you 
this fine drea«. Pay the 
mailman only $3.89 and 
postage when it arrives. 
Try it on and then it you 
don't think it the most lovely dress you ever eaw and tha 
Diggest bargain of your life I will return every cent of your 
money. VIRGINIA CASTLETON 
Care of INTERNATIONAL MAIL ORDER CO. 
Dept. P1053. CHICAGO 
10 Cents 
worth of ordinary 
fuel will keep this 
Sunray lamp or lan¬ 
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30 hour*. Produces 
300 candle power 
of the purest, whit¬ 
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known to science. Nothingto 
wear; simple;safe; 10 days’trial. 
FREE 
Lantern 
As a special introduc¬ 
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you a 300Candle Power 
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vi a v ufiruy Liaiup. 
Lights up the yard or barn like a search light. 
Write today for full information and agency 
proposition. 
KNIGHT LIGHT CO.. Oept.30-61 Chicago. III. 
24 
95 Jftn&uauu 
Upward CREAM 
SEPARATOR 
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Different from picture which shows 
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RAWCLIFFE MFC. CO., INC. 
Dept. A. A. 
N. ATTLEBORO, MASS. 
TTh© Broad Highway —By Jeffery Farm 
CHAPTER II 
THE POSTILION 
G OOD Lord!” exclaimed the Postilion, and fell back a step. 
“Well?” said I, meeting his astonished look as carelessly as I might. 
“I never see such a thing, ” said he, alternately glancing from me down to the figure 
at my feet, “if it’s bewitchments, or only enchantments, I don't like it—strike me 
pink if I do!” 
“Come, come,” I broke in, somewhat testily, “ don’t stand there staring-like a fool— 
you see this gentleman is hurt." 
“Onnat’ral's the word,!” went on the Postilion, as though speaking his thoughts 
aloud “it's a onnat'ral night to begin with—seed a many bad uns in my time, but 
nothing to ekal this 'ere, that I lost my way are n’t to be wondered at; then him and 
her a-jumping out o the-chaise and a-running off into the thick o' the storm—that’s 
onnat’ral in the second place! and then, his face, and your face—that ’s the most 
onnat’rallest part of it all-onnat’ral’s the word—and—I’m a-going.” 
‘Stop!” said I, as he began to move away. 
“Not on no account!” 
“Then I must make you,” said I, and doubled my fists. 
The Postilion eyed me over from head to foot, and paused, irresolute. 
“What might you be wanting with a 
peaceable cove like me?” he inquired. 
“Where is your chaise?” 
“Up in the lane, som’eres over yonder,” 
answered he, with a vague jerk of his 
thumb over his shoulder. 
“Then, if you w r ill take this gentle¬ 
man’s heels we can carry him well enough 
between us.” 
“Easy!” said the Postilion, backing 
away again, “easy, now—what might be 
the matter with him—ain’t dead, is 
he?” 
“Dead—no, fool!” I rejoined an- 
grily- _ * 
“Voice like his, too!” muttered the 
Postilion, backing away still farther. 
“Come, will you do as I ask, or must I 
make you?” 
“Why, I ain't got no objection to 
taking the gent’s ’edls, if that’s all you 
ask.” 
So, after some delay, I found the over¬ 
coat and purse (which latter I thrust into 
the pocket ere wrapping the garment 
about him) and lifting my still uncon¬ 
scious antagonist between us, we started 
for the lane; which we eventually reached, 
with no little labor and difficulty. Here, 
more by good fortune than anything else. 
CHAPTER III 
WHICH BEARS AMPLE TESTIMONY TO THE 
STRENGTH OF THE GENTLEMAN’S FISTS 
CONSIDERING all that had befallen 
during the last half-hour or so, it was 
not very surprising, I think, that I should 
have forgotten the very existence of this 
woman Charmian, even though she had 
been chiefly instrumental in bringing it all 
about, and to have her recalled to my 
recollection thus suddenly perturbed me 
greatly. 
“A dark, fierce, Amazonian creature!” 
I told myself, who had (abhorrent 
thought, already attempted one man’s 
life to-night; furthermore, a tall woman, 
and strong (therefore unmaidenly), with 
eyes that gleamed in the shadow of her 
hair. And yet my dismay arose not so 
much from any of these as from the fact 
that she was a woman, and, consequently, 
beyond my ken. 
Hitherto I had regarded the sex very 
much from a distance, and a little as¬ 
kance, as creatures naturally illogical, and 
given to unreasoning impulse; delicate, 
ethereal beings whose lives were made up 
of petty tribes and vanities, who w’ere sent 
into this gross world to be admired, petted. 
we presently stumbled upon a chaise and occasionally worshipped, and frequently 
horses, drawn up in the gloom of shelter- married. 
ing trees, in which we deposited our limp 
burden, and where I made some shift to 
tie up the gash in his brow. 
“It would be a fine thing,” said the 
Postilion moodily, as I, at length, closed 
the chaise door, “it would be a nice 
thing if ’e was to go a-dying.” 
“By the looks of him,” said I, “he will 
be swearing your head off in the next ten 
minutes or so.” a 
Without another word the Postilion 
set the lanthorn back in its socket, and 
swung himself into the saddle. 
“Your best course would be to make 
for Tonbridge, bearing to the right when 
you strike the high road.” 
The Postilion nodded, and, gathering 
up the reins, turned to stare at me once 
more, while I stood in the gleam of the 
lanthorn. 
“Pembry would be nearer,” said I. 
“and the sooner he is between the sheets 
the better.” 
“All!” exclaimed the Postilion with a 
slow nod, and drawing out the word 
unduly, “and what about my second 
passenger? I started wi’ two, and ’ere \s 
only one—what about Number Two — 
what about—’er?” 
“Her!” I repeated. 
“’Er as was with 'im—Number One— 
'er what was a-quarrelling wi' Number 
One all the way from London—'er as run 
away from Number One into the wood, 
yonder, what about—’er?” 
“Why, to be sure—I had forgotten 
her!” 
“Forgotten?” repeated the Postilion, 
“Oh, Lord, yes!” and he winked one eye, 
very deliberately; “forgotten ’er—ah!— 
to be sure—of course!” 
Saying which, he cracked his whip, the 
horses plunged forward, and, almost 
immediately, as it seemed, horses, chaise, 
and Postilion had lurched into the black 
murk of the night and vanished. 
T HUS, women were to me practically 
i 
forward; I had gone but a few pa Q 
however, when I tripped over sot 
obstacle, and fell heavily. It wanted \ 
this to complete my misery, and I 
where I was. 
Now presently, as I lay thus, I becai 
aware of a soft glow, a brightness arout 
me, wherefore, lifting my heavy head, 
beheld a ray of light that pierced 
gloom, a long, gleaming vista jewelled 
falling raindrops. At sight of this c 
strength revived, and rising, I staggen 
on towards this welcome light, and thus 
saw that it streamed from the window 
my cottage. Even then, it seemed, 
journeyed miles before I felt the la 
beneath my fingers, and fumbling, opea 
the door, stumbled in, and closed it af 
me. 
For a space I stood dazed by the sudd 
light, and then, little by little, notic 
that the table and chairs had been righte 
that the fire had been mended, and t| 
candles burned brightly upon the man! 
All this I saw but dimly, for there was 
mist before my eyes; yet I was conscio 
that the girl had leapt up on my entrani 
and now stood fronting me across t 
table. 
“You!” said she, in a low, repress 
voice—“von?” 
Indeed, my education, in this direction, 
had been shockingly neglected thus far; 
for when, as a young gentleman of means 
and great expectations, I should have 
been writing sonnets to the eyebrow of 
some “ladye fayre,” I was hearkening to 
the plaint of some Greek or Roman lover, 
or chuckling over old Brantome. 
an unknown quantity, as yet, and 
hence it was with no little trepidation 
that I now started out for the cottage, 
and this % truly Amazonian Charmian, 
unless she had disappeared as suddenly as 
she had come (which I found myself 
devoutly hoping). 
As I went, I became conscious that I 
was bleeding copiously above the brow, 
that my throat was much swollen, and 
that the thumb of my right hand pained 
exceedingly at the least touch; added to 
which was a dizziness of the head, and a 
general soreness of body, that testified 
to the strength of my opponent’s fists. 
On I went (wearily enough, and with 
the faintness growing upon me), guiding 
my course by touch rather than sight, 
until, finding myself at fault, I stopped 
again, staring about me. Yet feeling the 
faintness increase with inaction, I started 
N OW, as she spoke, I saw the glitter 
steel in her hand. 
“Keep back!” she said, in the sai 
subdued tone, “keep back—I warn you 
But I only leaned there against the dot 
indeed, I doubt if I could have mov 
just then, had I tried. And, as I sto 
thus, hanging my head, and not answeri 
her, she laughed a short, fierce laugh. 
“So—he has hurt you?” she cm 
‘you are all blood—it is running doi 
your face—the Country Bumpkin 1 
hurt you! Oh, I am glad!” and 
laughed again. “I might have 
away,” she went on mockingly, “but j 
see—I was prepared for you,” and 
held up the knife, “and now—you 
pale, and hurt, and faint—the Coun 
Bumpkin has done his work well. I s! 
not need this, after all—see!” And 
flung the knife upon the table. 
“Yes—it is better—there,” said 
“and I think—madam—is—mistake 
“Mistaken?” she cried, with a sudi 
catch in her voice, “what—what do 
mean?” 
“That I—am—the Bumpkin!” sail 
Now, as I spoke, a black mist envelo 
all things, my knees loosened suddei 
and stumbling forward, I sank inti 
chair. 
‘ ‘ I am—very—tired! ” I sighed, anc 
as it seemed, fell asleep. 
CHAPTER IV 
WHICH, AMONG OTHER MATTERS, HAS 
DO WITH BRUISES AND BANDAGES 
S HE was on her knees beside me, ba 
ing my battered face, talking all 
while in a soft voice that I thought wow 
fully sweet. 
“Poor boy!” she was saying, 
boy!” And after she had said it, 
haps a dozen times, I opened my 
and looked at her. 
“Madam, I am twenty-five!” sail 
Hereupon, sponge in hand, she drew bi 
and looked at me. 
A wonderful face—low-browed, dt 
(Continued on -page 61 ) 
THE STORY AS IT HAS PROGRESSED SO FAR 
P ETER VIBART, disinherited, unless he marry Lady Sophia Sefton, a beauty he 
■ 
has never seen, takes to the broad highway to earn his living. He has several un- 
pleasant*adventures, including an attack on his life, because of his resemblance to 
his dissolute cousin Sir Maurice, whom he also has never seen, but who may inherit 
the fortune on the same condition. Peter settles in a quiet English village, where 
he helps George, the blacksmith, and lives alone in a “haunted” cottage. 
One stormy night, a woman breaks in his door, pursued by a man whom she 
defies. Peter struggles in the darkness with the man, who is finally knocked uncon' 
scious. By the light of a lantern, his opponent’s face is revealed as identical with 
Peter’s. 
