Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1920)

ir8 Photoplay Magazim:;— Advkhtising Section Lift off Corns with Fingers Doesn't hurt a bit and "Freezone" costs only a few cents You can lift off any hard corn, soft corn, or corn between the toes, and the hard skin calluses from bottom of feet. Apply a few drops of "Freezone" upon the corn or callus. Instantly it stops hurting, then shortly you lift that bothersome corn or callus right off, root and all, without one bit of pain or soreness. Truly! No humbug! Tiny bottle of "Freezone" costs few cents at any drug store C i*Tiic8, Cartoons, Commercial, NL-W8paper and Mutra/inc llluntratinff, Poittel (■.ayon Fortraits an<] Fashions. By Mail or Local Classes. Writo fnrtormii and List of •iirc<.-.*.'»ful BtudcMta. Aasoolat»d Art Studios. 105Flatlron Bldn.. New York HsMy Nose Shiny'!'" Yes — it probably is. if you depend upon ordinary oUI-style f.lce powder. ISnt not if yuu made your toilet wiUi woudcrfuX Cold Creamed Powder Use h\ Mi:nA CuI.D CRl'AMED powder in the niuruiiitr niid you nrc sii> f of n velvet smooth, powdery fresh nppeiimnce nil day. A skin charm that lias none of that ovcnlonc suntrestion. Hent, cold, raiu or pcrspir.ition will not mar it. Cunninteed. C-i n not promote hairgrowth. Tints— Flesh. While, llrunclte. Any drucKist or toilet counter anywhere ran (ret M1;DA COI.D CRKAMRD I'OWOKR for you — oritvillbe sent postpaid on receipt of C5 ccnls f jr a lari:e jar. Send ^ a %rial Stzejlar \ lA MEOA MFO. CO., 103 E. Oarlltid Blvd.. CHICtQQ l'l..f,.« t„n.\ him.l.omn minlaliirn Ir.t J>r of I.A MKDA ( ..I 1 I r. »ii.r.l r.i«ilrr In II,.. lint. I •nrln.a 1 I , Ani* Rllvrr Kn'l 2'^ alAniLi for iK»latfo ftiid itBckliiit. <Or ] Jc •Laiapa If ffluro cunvcnfanl.) Name The Woman in His House ( Concluded from page 40) AddrrM 1 uaually bur mir UilUt mooAm trofn. It was evening when the fight in the lenement was won and Philip went out. There was a great elation in his heart as he went swiftly homeward. He had given a child back to life and it would not be crippled. He had saved one from the horrible, twisted back or the shrivelled limbs. He would save others — hundreds, thousands I He could see them marching down the Avenue ahead of him, a glad host, little forms straight and lithe, young heads held high. Hilda would be proud and glad too, and Peter — dear old Peter with his vague, impractical dreams! As he let himself into the house, a chill struck his heart. What is there about the atmosphere of a house of sorrow which communicates itself so readily? Even as he bounded up the stairs Philip told himself that something was horribly wrong ! The group about the little bed turned and parted as he came into the room, and he saw Hilda kneeling there, beside the still lorm of their child. But as he sprang forward with a bitter cry, she rose, swiftly, and faced him, eyes blazing, one hand outstretched to hold him off. "While you stayed away, your child died!" she said. Ah, the shrill, piteous sweetness of her voice ! "I could bear your neglect of me, but you have killed my baby I I never shall speak to you again. No, don"t touch me!" Unconsciousness came to her relief then. Fever followed, and after that a bitter calm that nothing could shake. She refused to ?ee Philip, and he grew old of face and stooped and broken, as he went about his work, spending his days in the districts where the plague was thickest, his nights in the grim silence of the old laboratory. Recklessness succeeded to Hilda's fearful calm. Then, to their utter dismay, she began to go out with Livingston, to late dinners, to dances, coming in defiantly in the early mornings, laughing at Peter's distress, scorning Philip's protests. "When I wanted Philip he ignored me, and let our child die," was her answer to all Peter's gentle remonstrance. There came a night when midnight found Peter pacing the hallway of the home alone. Hilda had gone with Livingstone. Philip was shut up in the laboratory. The whole house was silent when, as he passed the laboratory door in his restless pacing, Peter heard a voice — a child's voice — ^Junior's voice. For an instant he stood, staring, incredulous. Then the sound came, clear as a bell, a sweet, querulous cry. "But I want my muvver-dear !" With a bound, Peter was beside the door, pounding on it, wrenching at the handle. "Philip! Philip! Let me come in! I hear him !" The door opened and Philip faced him, whitc-lijjpcd. In the center of the room stood a wheeled chair and in it was the child, helpless, his little, thin arms held out toward Peter. "He wasn't dead !" Philip said, huskily. "I saw it that night, as soon as you left the room with Hilda. The nurse and the doctor know my secret, of course. I wanted to cure him, before his mother knew, for she would hate me more than ever if she knew he lived and was crippled. Vou know, Peler, how she always shrank from Sigurd with his crooked back. You heard her say she would rather a child of hers was dead. So I wanted to restore him — but the scrum was not injected soon enough. He looks all right, his back and his little limbs arc straight, but they are helpless. Somehow, he just cannot use them. He sits there and cannot move, and I dare not let her know!" "Let her know!"' thundered Peter, "of course she must know ! Do you think her mother love will not meet the test? What if she hates you, or does not! She must have her child, and he has a right to his mother! I tell you she will meet the test, and who knows what will happen?"' Peter's whole face was illumined as he spoke the last words softly, almost under his breath. "I shall bring her, now," he said, "as soon as I can find her. Have him here, just as he is!" It was long, long afterward that Philip knew that Peter found Hilda that night in the sitting room of Livingstone's apartment, pacing the floor, trembling, doubting, while he begged her to remain and her poor tortured mind almost yielded. Now, Philip only knew that Peter seemed gone for centuries, that the child slept in his little wheeled chair, that the tall clock in the corner ticked on and on, that all his life and love and faith seemed hung by the balance of a slender thread which Hilda's coming would shatter. "Nothing can cure him, nothing!" he kept repeating. He saw again the shining host of children, lithe and straight and gay. marching bravely down a long, sunlit stretch. And far behind, in the shadows, his own little lad, wheeling himself, painfully, in his little chair. "Always, he must suffer, and I must endure her hatred!" He groaned, and heard steps in the hall, voices, a hand on the door knob ! He tried to brace himself for the shock, for the look of scorn and hate in Hilda's face, as she would come in. Then the door swung open, and she stood there for a moment, her eyes ignoring him. fixed on the little, wan face against the pillow, .^nd on her face was a look of rapture, and faith, and joy unutterable. "My baby!" she crooned, coming forward a few steps, "my little son I Wake up, precious, your mother has found you !" She stopped, and on her face the still, shining look grew apd deep,.'ned, while the child moved, opened wide his eyes, and threw out his arms with a happy cr\" "Muvver-dear! Come to me!" But she stood quite still, as if holding herself by sheer force of will, gazing at the child with an intensity that crew and deepened until the room throbbed with it. "No, little son," she said, and in her voice was a new, vibrant quality like the notes of a clear-toned bell across wide open spaces, "yot4 come to Muvver-dear!" And the child's white face grew rosy with the effort that lifted his head until he sat straight. Then, as they watched, breathless, he put out one little foot, then the other, tested their strength, stood erect, and with outstretched arms ran straight to the woman who dropped to her knees to receive him, saying only, "Mother's boy I Mother's boy ! Mother's boy!" in soft, sobbing whispers. Peter waited until she lilted her face and held out her hand to Philip. "Come dear." she said. "Vou sec your work was not enough. There had to be love to finish it — love, the greatest thing in the world!" And suddenly he was on his knees, wife and child in his arms. Peter slipped awav then, a shining light on his face, a great glory in his keen, kind eyes. "He knows now," he whispered. "He knows that science is not everything! He knows that love is greater than all!" Ercrjf ailrrrllKiunit In rilOTOPI.AY MAGAZINE li gu»r»lUo«l.