ER
Bellefonte, Pa, December 7, 1928.
a
CHOICE
Ask and it shall be given
Ask—ask.
And if you ask a stome
Expect not bread;
And if the stone glitter like a caught star,
And shine on a warm, soft breast,
And you have tossed your soul away
To see it in that nest,
Yet is it still a stone—not bread.
Seek and you shall find.
Seek—seek.
And if you go to the crowded street
Look pot to find the hills;
And if the shops sit gay along the way,
And laughter fills the air,
S§:ill—you have lost the hills.
Knock and the door shall open.
Knock—knock.
Two doors are there, beware!
Think well before you knock;
Your tapping finger will unlock
Your heaven or hell.
—The Christian Century
NANCY CHOOSES
Concluded from last week.)
This committed her to a program;
presently she might have been seen
following it. Anyway, a sheet of
paper was before her with the words
“Dear Mother”
and no more.
The truth was that she retained a
residue of femininity after all
Enough to make any woman regret
such a gesture as that with which she
surrendered to Tommy.
Eventually she gave up the pre-
tense of letter-writing and joined the
optimists on Ski Hill. She did better
to-day. Upsets still, but the thrill of
growing mastery. Yet though she
went back again after dinner, she
found herself returning to the club
long before dusk, nebulously discon-
tented.
“The play instinct must have been
left out of me,” she mused by way of
self-diagnosis.
Anyway she was tired. She decided
to have supper served in her room
and then go to bed. And she was abed
—though not asleep—by eight.
“Oh, well, second days are apt to
be less exciting than the first,” was
the explanation she contrived to fit
her mood.
The next morning she awoke to find
it snowing. She had no plans for the
day. Tommy, she chose to believe,
hed been definitely relinquished to the
little blonde. And yet, when he bore
down upon her after breakfast, some-
thing that no woman ever can hope
wholly to discipline, no matter how
long she lives, quickened in her.
“They’re making up a party to go
there,” he announced.
miles——" .
“Fourteen miles!” she echoed,
feeling unaccountably dashed.
‘ “You can make it—easy !” he en-
couraged.
“On skis? Not possibly.” Yet even
as she spoke she knew that she was
going.
They started at ten. Two in a party
of thirty that at the end of the first
half-hour was straggled out with a
mile separation leaders and trailers.
The thermometer was not far
above zero yet she found it astonish-
ingly warm work. After the first mile
her cap had been tucked in her belt.
When she finally achieved Bear Cub
the melted snow glistened on her tou-
sled hair, her eyes were luminous and
her color miraculous.
The earliest arrivals were dancing
to a phonograph; the little deb with
a tall young man with a skinned nose
and the unmistakable earmarks of .
Harvard. She—the little deb—was
contriving to suggest vivacious
terest in her partner and at the same
time a cold disdain for Tommy and his
taste.
“Cats !” thought Nancy.
And, presently, she yielded to Tom-
ps persuasiveness and danced her-
self,
They started back at three. And ex:
cept for the fact that she wasn’t quite
sure which leg was which—“They’ve
twisted around so I'm not sure I’ll
ever get them properly disentangled
and labeled again,” she told Tommy—
she returned to the club intact. They
were among the last in.
“No need to hurry!” Tommy had
pointed out.
He was truly a very nice child. ¢o
More than that, occasional questions
and comments—he had drawn her in-
to talking about her business ex-
periences, if rather more lightly and
impersonally than her wont—had re-
vealed flashes of jreight and greater
fope than she had
with.
Even so, she had been struck by the
i yd
with him. ‘It can’t nterest you
the least,” she had told him.
“It does,” he had assured her. And
had added thoughtfully: “I think you
have it in you to become a very sue-
cessful business woman.”
“Really ?” she had mocked. “What
do Jou know about business women?”
e grinned. “I’ve seen quite a few
of them—first and last!”
Nancy refused to be impressed.
“And the trouble with those who
really want business success more
than anything else is that they lose
all sense of proportion,” he had elab-
orated. “They eat, drink and sleep
business. They forget that play and
recreation is a part of any well-or-
dered existence. Suggest to them
that they are getting overtired, abso-
lutely neurotic, that it’s time
they took time out, and they consid-
er it an insult, almost. e result
igS—-"
“Gracious—who told you all this?”
she had cut in.
“Well—do you deny it?” he per-
soled: vs aki had slipped along f
ancy’s skis ip ng for
a second before she answered. “Men
wear themselves out the same way,
don’t they? To be successful one
must be ruthless with one’s self.”
“Men used to. Most of them—the
in
a Detar Malaya: An
» 1 know
if they didn’t, they're 2pt to
up by their directors, Phy
inscribed thereon— Jak
in-
fore credited
of discussing business
a
fone woman that employs a physician
| since her condition of its executive
| shows signs of strain, he's shipped off
‘for a rest—as he ought to be!”
“As I was,” Nancy had suggested.
“If it wasn’t just a sop.”
“A Sop mm
She did not explain. That he, whose
, knowledge of business must be as
‘ slight as his rience, should be
instructing her with her ten years of
considered - effort toward a definite
goal, struck her as deliciously mas :u-
line—and very funny.
“You aren’t here on a physician's
ed impishly.
“I don’t wait for such adwvice—I
Write my owe oo
‘Fraquently, I suspect.
“Rather,” he had grinned. And af-
ter a second had added, “To tell you
the truth, the minute I find a job no
longer interests me I chuck it up.”
luxury few of us can afford,”
she had commented.
“You,” he had countered, “don’t
think it a luxury at all. You think
it’s a cardinal sin!”
And Nancy did!
excommunicate him for it. She was
at the Lake Placid Club to play and
he made a nice playmate. If more
than that was sometimes imputed to
her--as it sometimes was by the lit-
tle deb’s smoldering glance—she
could afford to smile.
And had she been asked to explain !
what he got out of his now accepted
role of daily companion—they skied,
went to the movies, danced, ski-jored
behind galloping horses on Mirror
Lake, and even flew over Lake Placid
"in the airplane that could be hired for
long or short trips—she would have
Tad an explanation ready for that,
0.
“He must, with is money, live the
| life of the hunted,” she would have
‘said. “And it’s probably a relief to
be able to talk man-fashion with a,
woman who, though older, hasn’t lost
all her looks. I haven't quite, I sup-
i Nor had she unless her mirror was
, an unmitigated liar. She looked bet-
i ter than she ever had before—and she
{knew it. And was subtly glad of it!
‘Even when she and Tommy were talk-
ing man-fashion.
. “You can be an amusing child at
times,” she assured him on the sixth
day of her stay at Placid.
They were both on skis, which no
!longer acted as if all nature were
greased for the occasion when she
put them on.
i “You're i on fine,” he had
teased the day before. “Your face
automatically sets in a mask of deli-
cate superiority whenever any out-
and-out beginner appears on your
horizon.”
| She had merely made a face at him.
i Now they stood at the top of what
he had warned her was to be a mile
of continuous descent with hairpin
turns and roller-coaster features. But |
. it was not that which had occasioned
to Bear Cub on skis and have dinner 'h
“It’s fourteen
er comment.
“How much Jonger
do you expect to
stay?” he had asked.
|
“Why, I go tomorrow night,” she
had replied. “Didn’t I tell
planned to stay only a week?”
“But that was several days ago.
you I
had hoped you might change our |
mind—a woman does sometimes,
told.”
“Not a business woman,” she had
reminded him,
am
They were both bareheaded, their |
breath hanging visibly on the clean
crisp air. He still seemed very young
to her; she had yet to guess how
young she seemed to him
“And that’s the trouble with them,” |
he had assured her. “Yes—I mean
you, too. A week has put you back
on your feet, you begin to feel fit
again. And so you think it’s time
you went back to work. Can’t you
see that if you would only take two
weeks, or even three—”
Ii was then that she had assured
him that he was an amusing child.
“I should protest that,” he remark-
ed, “if I didn’t have a hunch that all
men are amusing children in your
eyes—when they aren't annoying
ones, that is. You do rather scom
. men, don’t you?”
“You mean that I refuse to pros-
trate myself before them, feminine
fashion,” she corrected coolly.
“You would,” he commented, as
coolly. “But just the same, why
don’t you consider prolonging this va-
cation of yours?”
“I can’t. Absolutely! We can’t all
do what we please, you know.”
leaving myself tomorrow night.
already stayed longer than I intended
It took her unawares. “But you
Dever told me!” she protested without
tho
“You never bothered to ask,” he re-
minded her. And added, quickly,
“Wait a second——"
But Nancy’s skis were in motion.
Plunging downward. Swiftly, blind-
Yvon the first she had considered
this week at Lake Placid but an in-
terlude, definitely tagged as such.
, Tommy had played his part in it,
added to it. But when she said good-
| by to him, at its end, it was to be
! good-by and not au revoir. Their |
normal paths would not cross. Even
-if he should suggest seeing her again
.in New York—and the possibility of
{ his so suggesting had occurred to her
—she would m it good-by just the
same. In New York she had precious
little time to play and she had been
prepared to tell him so if necessary.
| What she had not been prepared
for was a casualness to match hers.
, Instead, she had had a purely fem-
_inine suspicion—none the less potent
: for all that it remained as uArecog-
nized as it was unauthorized—that k
, had not been wholly altruistic in urg-
ing her to stay longer.
And after all, he had been.
The path her skis followed was nar-
row, twisting and turning between
trees. She hardly saw it. Something
had. blurred her vision.
Unfortunately, se there was
need of a clear eye. e roller-coast-
er effect Tommy had spoken of was
due to bumps in the trail; the very
first of these shot her into the air.
e came down h
impact that’ shook her every ber
i 00 e ,
And wath the Treath A ned out of
her; lay with skis tangled as Tommy,
shooting over the samé bump, jump-
,
advice by any chance ?” she had evad-
|
Yet she did not’
1
“Meaning me? You're wrong. y= :
ve ,
ed sidewise and stopped just beyond
her. The next second he was bendi
over her, one arm half under her.
| “Nancy!” he besought, agonizedly,
his head so close to hers that she
,could feel his warm breath on her
cheek. “Are you hurt?”
She did not answer. She kept her
eyes closed. But her heart should
have answered him. It was beating
like mad. A long moment she lay so.
Then abruptly, almost vehemently,
she struggled to her feet.
i “I’m all right,” she told him. “I
must have been stunned for a second.”
“You took a wicked toss,” he said,
- still deeply concerned. “Do you think
you feel up to going on to Connery?”
| This had been their plan—Connery
.and_griddle-cakes at the camp there.
i “Per ,’ she replied without
‘meeting his eyes, “it might be better
if we went back. I feel as if I had
had enough for one day.”
| “Sure youre right?” he asked
| again, after removing her skis, back
at the club. “Wouldn't it be wise to
see the doctor?”
She told him she was perfectly all
Fight But that - was not what she
told herself when she reached her
room.
“Oh, you—you priceless idiot!” she
blazed, with sick self-contempt. “It’s
certainly time you went back to busi-
ness.”
She began to pack at once. And
at nine o'clock that same night—
twenty-four hours ahead of her orig-
inal schedule—she was on her way to
New York. She had dined in her
room, paid her bill and departed with-
out even the most casual farewell to
anyone.
Tommy might wonder at that—
might not. She didn’t care. She
never, never wanted to see him again!
{
i
i
i
1
i
'
i
fe To
{Should have had the answer—but
that puzzled her. It was as if hind himself—and his mouth looking
sed a question to which she as if it
ight break into the in
she areal, oy
Besde it was the article the por-
i
“Did you meet a Mr. Stirling at trait illustrated. Headed:
. Lake Placid ?” he asked then, directly. | is Executive Fires Himself
i “Stirling?” echoed Nancy. She Frequently.
turned scarlet. “You—you don’t © Beneath, set into the e, was
mean Tommy Stirling ?’
Preposterous question, she realiz-
ed. Yet:
“I don’t know him quite well
enough to call him Tommy,” he ob-,
, what is known t
graphically as a
box, a hook for the reader’s interest.
: She read it swiftly.
served dryly. “You—did you see
much of him
“Good ious!” gasped Nancy.
“What has he to do with the question
I asked?”
“About the advertising manager-
ship? Quite a lot. You know we
have secured new capital. He is sup
plying it. He’s also going to o
charge of the development of——
“Tommy Strling!” protested Nancy.
“Not that infant!”
Not that she really doubted it. Jt
had all been done before. They want-
ed Tommy's money so much that they
were willing to take Tommy in too.
Give him an executive position even,
let him persuade himself he was some-
thing more than a figurehead, inflate
his ego. No wonder he had offered
her business advice! Bitterness swept
her like a flame; she rose swiftly.
“In that case,” she announced pas-
sionately, “there is no sense in our dis-
cussing anything. I'm quitting, here
and now.”
“Good Lord!” he remonstrated.
“Why go off the handle that way?
We all want you to have the job—
honestly. But Mr. Strling has the
final say so. He is particularly in-
terested in the advertising end him-
self and told us, frankly, that he
distrusted women in executive posi-
PLAY AS YOU WORK—OR YOU PAY
Thomas Wentworth Stirling began
his career at the of ten as a Chi-
cago newsboy. s life since then
has been varied and extremely inter-
esting. He has headed several re-
markably successful organizations,
yet at thirty-three he is in his own
phrase “fired again—by myself. Be-
cause a man ought to be fired,” he
‘says, “when he loses interest in what
‘ he is doing.”
Mr. Stirling is the personification
of restless energy. The harder a job,
‘the more problems it presents, the
more joyously he tackles it. But the
moment the job threatens to become
“soft” his interest flags. Then he
fires himself, looks for something
else. In the interim he is apt to
play as hard as he ever worked. He
is keen for and adept at many sports.
He believes that the executive who ¢
can’t play, who lets business occupy
his whole horizon—
To Nancy, it was as if every word
was a hard little pebble flung at her
wincing self. But she was to have
respite. Or so she thought. The of-
fice door opened and she raised her
eyes. Respite? Her eyes widened,
her lips parted.
“How—how did you get here?” she
heard herself babble inanely.
“Flew,” answered Tommy laconi-
i bit
What could
If you have a relative or friend who might be
interested in what is going on in Centre county, who
has no other means of contact than through the oc-
casional letters you write him or her we are sure
they would enjoy having the Watchman. It would
tell them so many things that you forget to mention
when you finally prod
ourself into answering that
letter you received weeks ago.
Christmas is coming and the problem of some
little rembrance will be to solve before you know it.
Why not accept our suggestion that you send
the Watchman for a year to that friend or relative.
It will cost only $1.50 and be fifty letters, teeming
with news, that anyone would be glad to receive.
Send us $1.50 and we will mail the Watchman
for a year to any point in the United States.
We
will also mail a Christmas card to the recipient ex-
pressing your good wishes.
What could be nicer?
The Democratic Watchman
A Country Newspaper that is different,
Even to think of him was torture
‘now. Because she had for a preg-
nant moment lain in his arms that
afternoon—Ilanguished was the sav-
'age word that occurred to her—will-
ing for him to kiss her.
“I suppose it’s what they call love,”
she soliloquized scornfully. “At my
age—for him!”
| Of course women of all ages fell in
love. But she had certainly believed
herself immune. Now she felt as a
doctor might who, having moved
. through a fever-stricken world for
{ years in perfect immunity, suddenly
finds himself laid prostrate. j
| “Oh, well,” she philosophized finally
as the train moved on through the
' night, “it was. at least, only a mild
attack.”
| And that she believed. The residue
| of femininity in her might for an elec-
tric moment, have betrayed her but
!the mental habit of years was domi-
| nant in her now. Nature had set a
trap for her, but had not baited it
well enough. Her swift reaction
proved that.
Lie awake she might. But not to
think of Tommy. She was a business
woman returning to business, prepar-
ing an ultimatum.
From the Grand Central, in the
morning, she phoned her mother and
then taxied to the office. New York,
yi its Sky. seapers Soaring into the
anu 8 it, was going abou
its business; she was back in her orbit.
“You certainly look fit,” her im-
mediate superior assured her. “But
what made you come back so soon?
We expected—" 4
“I came back because I feel fit,”
Nancy assured him. And added coolly,
“Besides—how could I be sure you
weren't appointing a new advertising
manager in my" nce 7”
He gave her a swift; eearching
tions but——"
“He would!” commented Nancy.
“But that he wasn’t inclined to be
pig-headed about it. It was his sug-
estion that we send you to the Lake
Placid Club and let him look you over.
Without saying anything to you, of
course—""
Nancy bit her lip to still its quiv-
ering. She had defiintely excommun-
icated Tommy and yet somehow it
hurt, this discovery that his interest
in her had been all a matter of busi-
ness.
“I imagine,” her immediate super-
ior was adding nervously, “that I
should not have told you this until
things were definitely settled, but I
thought—" a
“Things are settled—very definite-
ly,” she retorted. And struggled for
a second with foolish feminine tears.
“If a pampered, inexperienced boy
who is more interested in play than
anything else is to have final decision
on such a matter, I—"
“Pampered, inexperienced boy,” he
echoed. “Good Lord—whom are you
talking about?”
“Your precious Mr. Stirling,” she
flung at him.
: He gasped incredulously. Then:
“There must be seme mistake,” he
said. “Wait a minute.”
. From a drawer in his desk he pro-
duced a magazine, thumbed its . pages.
and then thrust it at her, pages
spread.
“This issue isn’t on the stands yet,” [1
he explained. “We got advance cop-
‘ies because of the article on Mr. Stir-
ling and—" .
ener ho I re Na
-page ro vure, hel er wi
eyes. Tommy, unmistakably. More
mature than he had seemed at Placid
i but still incredibly young, With his
, eves half amused—as if at the world
cally, but her eyes fell before his.
The airplane that they had soared
above Placid in and which could be
hired for trips anywhere flashed into
mind. Then, panic-stricken, she real-
ized that the rightful occupant of the
office was wi awing. He had met
Tommy’s eyes and was murmuring
something about a matter he must at-
tend to.
“Well 2’ demanded Tommy as the
door closed behind him.
She tried to force her eyes to meet
his and failed signally. “I’ve resign-
ed,” she informed him, in a voice she
tried to make chill and impersonal,
but which sounded, instead, curiously
frightened and defiant.
“I hoped you would,”
evenly.
i “Because,”
wanted to meet you—not the business
i woman.
“hands full, I know,
1
i
i
1
i
he replied
Her eyes outraged, flashed at him
for a second. “To save you the
trouble of firing me?” she demanded
passionately. “Oh, of course, I realize
you wouldn’t have given me what
wanted more than anything——"
“More than anything?” he put in
quickly.
In spite of herself the treacherous
color flooded her face. She knew it
and was furious with herself, And
with him. 2
“And all the time you were havin
such a lovely time,” she flamed. */
sort of little King Copheuta incogni-
to, condescending to a beggar maid
——" She checked herself; the anal-
ogy was not what she wanted, exact-
VeBut think of the beggar maid’s re-
venge,” he suggested steadily, vet
with a curious vibrancy running
through his voice.
“I’m not interested in such reven-
ges,” she retorted too quickly. Bi
s
“Are you sure? he persisted,
eyes seeking hers.
They still evaded. Her heart ' was
I if undecid
beating tempestuously. He took a
swift, impetuous step toward her,
She backed off then—and humped in-
to a desk. She was afraid o s
terribly, thrillingly afraid. And even
i aq - to be in 1
; on’t wan in love—not
with Zobedyy she proclaimed pas-
sionately. “I[—”
“Neither do I—but I suspect I am,”
he said softly.
And the next second she was in his
arms. And she who had meant to re-
sist him, clung to him instead. She
could feel his rapid heartbeats
against her, each a delicious shock
that ran through her. The years
that she believed had rendered her
fire-proof to the most consuming of
conflagrations had, after all, but left
hep as Judge
e placed his hands under her chin
tilted her face up. “I don’t know,” he
said huskily, “if being just general
manager of me is much of a job to
offer you, but——"
. “But you never acted the least bit
in love with me,” she broke in. “You
just——" :
“I didn’t dare to. But from the mo-
ment I saw you—I was at the desk
when you registered, reme
felt, that— 7 © ? Biber
“You say that now. But it can’t be
true. How could you, so soon—-—*
“You took me unawares. I had
been prepared for some middle-aged,
neurotic business vestal. I might
have made myself known to you then,
if you had been. Instead—well, I
took your masurements with my eyes
and had them send you a carnival
costume. Had the firm wire you
money for sports things——”
“Then it was you—that did all
that,” she gasped.” “But—but why 7”
In her the irreducible residue of
femininity was again rising like yeast.
he said huskily, “I
I had an idea it might be
hard to dig the real you or You
ad it so deeply buried.”
. “And the harder a job is, the more
joyously you tackle it,” she remem-
bered. “But the moment it’s accom-
ulished you lose interest and——*
. “You forget that marriage is a real
job these days,” he reminded her.
“And I suspect you're going to pre-
sent problems a plenty. Enough to
last a lifetime. I'm going to have my
but——"
He did not finish. But he certainly
had his arms full as his lips found
hers and received from them her ac-
ceptance of what, after all, she want-
ed more than anything else.
_The job as general manager—of
him. —Hearst’s International Cosmo-
politan.
525 Chickens for Mental Patients
Thanksgiving Day.
Five hundred and twenty-five stuff-
ed roast chickens for their Thanks-
giving Day dinner.
Over 450 mince pies, 500 stalks of
celery, 40 bushels of mashed potatoes,
75 gallons of home made chow chow,
barrels of giblet gravy, baskets of
bread and all sorts of trimmin’s and
fixin’s!
This was the menu for the 2,000 pa-
tients at the Danville State hospital
for Mental Diseases, where Thanks-
giving is always observed as a big
day and looked forward to for many
weeks.
And the dinner is served as scientif-
ically as other functions of the hos-
pital are performed. H. B. Chultz,
director of the Fiscal Department, has
charge of the distributions. Forty
different distributions are made to the
2,000 patients. .
To the wards for the men who do
farm work or other manual labor go
large dinners. To the infirmaries,
where a heavy meal would detract
from the patients’ geneml health,
smaller portions are sent. To the
sick wards, where properly balanced
diet aids in restoration of health, go
portions adjusted to the needs of the
patients.
The many bushels of “filling” for
the chickens are made Tuesday, the
chickens are stuffed Wednesday,
cooked Thursday morning and served
at noon. They go into a huge re-
volving oven, capable of holding 400
chickens, and come out at the other
end—brown and tasty.
Rewiring and building operations at
the hospital prevented the holding of
the regular Thanksgiving dance and
other activities which feature the sea-
son, and they will be held later.
Fifty-cent Toy Led to Planes.
Five dimes started the Wright
brothers on the road that lead to the
invention of the airplane!
When Wilbur was eleven and Or-
ville seven years old, their father, a
minister went away ona church trip.
“Boughten” gifts were somewhat rare
in that frugal home at Dayton, Ohio.
Yet he liked to bring home a few
knick-knacks for the family. On this
trip an odd top caught his eye in the
city store.
When he returned home, the fath-
er walked into the living room of the
Hawthorn street house with an air
mysterious, his hands covering some
object.
“Now watch!” he said to the boys.
“Oh-h-h!” gasped the awe-stricken
youngsters as the father opened his
hands and a shiny thing leaped inte
the air. It rose whirling and smote
the ceiling, fluttered a moment as
upon its next course and
then sank slowly on the floor.
“It’s a bat!” shrieked the ecstatic
s.
“No,” said the father, “it is not
alive. It is a ine. You see it
has two little fans that whirl about
because of the pull of this twisted
rubber band. This is a scientific top.
I don’t ask you boys to. spell its name.
It is called a helicopter.”
5 For the Jest jou lays the flying
at was put through its paces within
the house and out in the back yard.
The boys were at it morning and
night. hey subjected the motive
power to a eruel strain, writes John
R. McMahon, beginning the story of
Orville and Wilbur Wright, the fath-
ers of flight, in the January Popular
. Science Monthly. They racked and
tore the fragile device with egek
fingers, loudly warning each other
against violence.