== =
Bellefonte, Pa., July 26, 1929.
EE
IT’S YOU.
If you want to work in the kind of a
church
. Like the kind of a church you like,
You needn’t slip your clothes in a grip
And start on a long, long hike.
You'll only find what you left behind,
- For there's nothing that’s really new,
It's a knock at yourself when you
knock your church;
It isn't your church—it’'s YOU.
Real churches aren't made by men afraid
Lest somebody else go ahead;
When everyone works and nobobdy
shirks,
You can raise a church from the
dead.
And if while you make
stake
Your neighmor can make one, too.
Your church will be what you want to
see—
It isn't your church—it’'s YOU!
Rev. C. L. Miller, D. D.
your personal
CLOUDED IVORY.
The closet was ten feet long, al-
most four feet wide and it was fill-
ed with gorgeous clothing and furs.
The shoe rack running six inches
above the floor on three sides held
twenty-one pairs of expensive slip-
pers .
Lulu held the door open for five
minutes and feasted her eyes on the
assortment. It was an every morning
ritual, this business of standing still
and staring and envying the assort-
ment, before going on about her
work of picking up her mistress’
scattered underwear, stockings and
handkerchiefs, and settling the rest
of the apartment in order.
That dull transparent velvet cape
was something new since yesterday.
She fingered it with a reverence that
was nearly religious. Under the in-
sistent pull of her fingers, under the
light she brought to bear upon it by
the further opening of the door, the
dullness of the purple fabric gave
way to a surprising sheen a royal
quality.
Yeah, Lulu thought, pleased that the
fur on the collar and cuffs was cer-
tainly ermine. She certainly had to
hand it to the woman. There wasn’t
a bit of what you might call cheap
fur in the whole big outfit.
There was probably—Lulu figured
mentally and leisurely—there was
probably nineteen thousand dollars’
worth of clothees in this one closet.
Maybe twenty thousand. Maybe
more than that, really, because Miss
Susan had said laughingly that the
last coat on the rod —the one that
was brown with deeper brown places
in it—had cost eight thousand dol-
lars.
Lord she, Lulu, could retire for
ten years or more on 'what that hunk
of fur cost. Miss Susan trusted her,
though. Miss Susan knew that her
Lulu was devoted to her and wouldn't
think of stealing a safety pin from
her, to say nothing of probable sa-
bles. :
Lulu’s breast swelled a trifle on
continued meditation of her virtue.
Other maids of her acquaintance cer-
tainly could not be trusted in the
same apartment with a rhinestone
pin that seeemed to have more of a
shine than most rhinestone pins.
But it certainly was a shame about
that purple transparent velvet with
the ermine. If she could only appear
with that swell thing on her tonight
at Maria Belle's party, it would
knock out not only Maria Belle’s eyes
but the eyes of everybody else, too.
And Gomez? Gomez liked to see
his woman of the moment decked
out. But not too much. He liked
swell things but they had to be quiet.
‘Darky taste” coming from him was
like the worst swear-word in the
world coming from somebody else.
Well, anyway, any girl could have
transparent velvet at eight ninety-
five a year. But transparent velvet
with all this real ermine was some-
thing else agin.
Miss Susan probably knocked out
everybody with it when she wore it
last night, wherever it was that she
went. She must have worn it. She
never got anything new that she
didn’t wear it to some swell night
club sometime during its first twen-
ty four hours.
Well, it was time she got to work.
Regretfully, Lulu shut the door upon
satin and lace negligees of every
lovely pastel shade, dresses of superb
lines and fabrics, coats of seal and
sable and the twenty-one pairs of
slippers, every last pair of the latter
sporting either cut steel and jet
buckles or glittering rhinestone
heels.
Miss Susan’s gentleman was cer-
‘ tainly good to her. And Miss Su-
san’s taste in clothes was grand, too,
except for—Lulu was trying to be
unbiased— all the giddy buckles and
heels, and things like wearing six
diamond bracelets and six diamond
rings at the same time.
He didn't care for her wearing
such a flock of jewelry all at once,
either, and he said so sometimes,
but not Miss Susan had a
way those big black eyes
of he om across the room,
and wi ng slow y toward him so
that he dn’
help thinking how
well she wore the clothes that he
bought her, and the next thing was
that she'd be sitting on his lap, hug-
ging and kissing him.
Lulu noticed that there would not
be any more arguments that day—at
least not about what she wore.
Lulu had to admit that Miss Susan
was just as.generous as her gentle-
man. She gave her a lot of things
every
twice when: he inquired why Miss
Susan wasn’t wearing some dress
that he liked particularly, she would
look at him, deep amusement in her
dark eyes.
“That thing? I've practically worn
it out. Had it on about six times,
you know. Lulu has it. She may be
two or three weeks. Once or,
able to wear it six -
more. before it
goes to pieces.” ! : 2
Miss Susan out that day or the
for some new things.
Now Lulu was wondering if she
eventually would get the purple
transparent for herself. It was like-
ly. And it wasn’t. Every once in a
while there would be some buckle,
some belt, some hat, something of a
rich satisfying color that, despite
its worn condition, Miss Susan could
not bear to part with.
She had two bureau drawers full
of these worn and outmoded things.
Messy, most of them looked, if you
suddenly pulled out the drawers and
saw them at one glance—the con-
glomeration of lace, ribbon, pins and
scaps of beads, and the bewildering
drunken intimacy of their colors.
That purple transpa—Lulu could
not keep her mind from it. She left
off brushing the gobs of deeply tint-
ed face powder from the vanity and
went to the closet again.
Miss Susan was out to luncheon.
Even if she came in suddenly and
caught her trying on the cape, she
wouldn’t say anything. Just laugh,
She had laughed once before when she
had caught Lulu parading around the
next
Maybe Lulu’s wearing the negligee
hadn’t amused her half so much as
the sequin fan with which she was
luxuriously brushing the air before
her face. Lulu always felt a little
ridiculous when she thought of that
outfit. Maybe it wasn't the thing to
do in high ilfe—wear droopy negli-
gees and sport a big fan at the same
time.
Miss Susan had dropped onto her
chaise longue and laughed, in that
wide lazy way that she had. Well,
she'd been nice about it. Another
white lady returning home to such a
scene would have fired her without
references. But Miss Susan was nice
that way. As though she understood
that her maid couldn’t help it.
Lulu was struggling with the cape.
There were side fastenings and front
fastenings and which was which?
Now this streamer of crepe de Chine.
It was supposed to tie somewhere......
“You take it off.”
No exclamation point.
like that. Just four words.
Numb, Lulu turned.
Miss Susan certainly must be mad
to talk like that. Her mouth was
quiet but she was certainly mad. She
must have sneaked into the apart-
ment or she would have been heard
before this.
Wordlessly, Lulu fumbled with the
front fastening, then the double
streamer that assured the cape’s
hanging correctly at the left. Miss
Susan certainly was mad.
Lulu looked at her out of the cor-
ner of an eye. If she hadn't known
better, she would have been con-
vinced that those dagger points of
yellow in her mistress’ black eyes
promised negro rage, just plain negro
rage. Trembling, Lulu hung the
cause of the rage upon:its padded
satin hanger.
When Lulu looked at her mistress
again, there was hothing to show
that Miss Susan had even spoken to
her. 4
She was lying on her chaise lounge,
reading a tabloid. Her eyes were
wide open as she read and Lulu glanc-
ed covertly at them. No, that had
been just plain imagination on her
part—Miss Susan's eyes had never
had those spots of yellow. ;
In about ten minutes, when Lulu
had recovered somewhat from her
fright, and the bedroom was looking
its loveliest again, she felt she had to
say something, anything, make some
kind of explanation. It would never
do to get Miss Susan’s goat for good.
There wouldn’t be any more cast-off
fineries.
“Miss Susan! I—I was goin’ to a
pahty t'night. I—I just ain't been
able t’ keep my mind off that pahty.”
“Really.” .
Just like that. One word. “Real-
ly.” She had not been expected to
go into a spasm of joy over the in-
formation, but she could have made
some small sign of forgiveness. As
it was, she might just as well have
sneezed once and let it go at that.
Lulu began to smolder. That
wouldn't do, either. She looked help-
lessly about the bedroom. The green
furniture with its painted baskets of
lush flowers, its bed-cover of crisp
purple organdie and its quilt of pur-
ple satin folded carefully at the foot
—none of these things inspired a hap-
py phrase.
The black velvet rug with its re-
curring corner motif of green and
purple and daffodil-yellow was a nice
rug but there was no use looking for
ideas there, either. Funny how
drunk Miss Susan could get on color.
The yellow silk curtains at the
windows would be too much, with
their big ruffles, if it weren't that just
under their bottom ruffles stood plain
crystal-clear jars filled with honest-
to-goodness flowers. Miss Susan’s
taste was rich but exquisite, too. Her
gentleman said so.
Well, none of these things running
in her mind was helping her to get on
the right side of Miss Susan again.
Lulu became humble, placating:
“A frien’ o’ mine's come up from
N’ Awleans. She’s struck it rich. T
ain't seen her for a long time. She's
given’ the party.”
Miss Susan’s interest had been
bought. “N’ Orleans? Really?”
Lulu prided herself on knowing
that Miss Susan was a native of New
Orleans, and remembering it at the
right time. Apparently it hadn't
done her much good, though, for Miss
Susan had returned to her paper.
She certainly was a beautiful wo-
man, Lulu thought enviously, looking
at the long, slim, beautifully molded
body, the extraordinary fineness of
the white skin, and the hair coiled
low at the nape of the neck, lustrous
black hair, a cloud of tragic glory.
barely hiding ends that told a tale of
henna dyes.
Her fingers: were long. thin; her
nails were long, shaped too pointed-
ly; .-more than ‘a hint of ' feline
strength hovered about their clear
perfection. To Lulu, however, every-
thing about Miss Susan was pure
Nothing
white-lady’s fascination.
Lulu noticed that he always sent.
‘bedroom in one of her satin negligees.
Miss Susan spoke from behind a
folded sheet of the paper: “What are
you going te wear, Lulu?” 1
“I = dunno, Miss Susan.” Then,
craftly, “I kind of thought I'd wear
that orchid beaded dress you gave me
las’ month. I'm crazy ’bout that
dress. It’s the nicest dress I've ever
had.”
Miss Susan put down the paper.
Once again her eyes were friendly,
interested. “Oh, it’s a ‘dress-up’ par |
ty! That will be nice. I hope you
have a good time.”
“Thank you.” Lulu was breathing
easily at last.
She took two pairs of sheer “moon- !
sheen” hose to the kitchen tub and
washed them out carefully with rying
pure soap. She placed newspapers !
on the kitchen radiator and on top '
of those two thick Turkish towels. |
Now the padding was good enough, |
the carefully rinsed and stretched |
stockings could dry without injury.
For a woman of tall, slim build,
Miss Susan certainly had good-sized
feet, Lulu thought. But there was
no rancor in the thought. When she
entered the bedroom again she found
Miss Susan staring at her, alomst in
her old, nearly affectionate manner.
“Going to have cocktails, Lulu?”
Apparently she had been thinking
of the party and had relented. Lulu
burst into a pleasant cackle of laugh-
ter.
“I dunno! I certainly hopes t’ have
one drink, anyway! We ain’t plan-
nin’ t’ go nowheres later. Just stay
there an’ dance, maybe. Yeah, I
guess we'll have some drinks!”
Lulu made a few more observations
but all the time she talked, emphasiz-.
ing syllables and words in the pecu-
iar rhythmic way she had, she
thought continually of Gomez. If
Maria Belle didn’t come through with |
enough drinks, he would. ask her
what she was saving them for; then
he would order somebody to run over
to his club and get plenty.
It wasn’t likely, however, that
Maria Belle would be ungenerous at
her own party. She had struck it
rich—whatever it was—in New Or-
leans, and since she’d met Gomez
through her old friend, Lulu, and
liked him. Moreover, she would
splurge, probably, just to show him
what a good-time giver she was.
Miss Susan was saying, casually,
“Ill send you some bottles for the
party. Rye, if you want it. What's
the address?”
Lulu gave Maria Belle’s address ef-
fusively. Rye would be just grand,
if Miss Susan felt she could spare it.
The address was in Harlem. Miss
Susan didn’t seem to mind having to
send it way up there.
Lulu wondered if she should offer
to take it herself. No. Miss Susan
might think she was in a terrible
hurry to take her liquor. Yet her
eyes were gleaming; maybe she was
a little bit sorry for having made the
offer. ;
Lulu decided that an offer was an
offer and that whatever followed was
none of her business. She went on
about her work.
She couldn't keep her mind from
Maria Belle and Gomez. Maria Belle:
had fallen for Gomez from the first
minute. Just like a ton of bricks.
Lulu thought again of her own even,
“Looky here, girl, I don’t care how
long you been knowin’ me! You keep
your hands off Gomez! I been goin’
with Gomez a long time, now, an’ I
ain’t planning’ t’ go much longer for
nothin.” ”
And Maria Belle had said, depre-
catingly, “Oh, it isn’t as if I was your
style. I can't compete with your
looks. I'm not trying to. I like
Gomez. He—he kind of likes me.
That's all.”
But that wasn’t all, and it wasn’t
until that moment that Lulu noticed
how carefully Maria = Beele spoke,
how good her = grammar was
all, the time. It hadn't been
different from hers when they were
kids together, long before Maria Belle
went down to New Orleans to live. It
was almost—and Lulu had looked her
up and down suspiciously—it' was al-
most as good as a white lady's gram-
mar.
Then a new thought struck her like
a blow, in spite of the fact that she
had known Maria Belle so long—
Maria Belle was white; Maria Belle
had fooled a lot of white folks down
New Orleans way where you wouldn't
think she could get away with it;
Maria Belle (how she was beginning
to hate that name!) told her and
Gomez and the rest of their friends
how she had fooled everybody down
there, how she had even fooled her
own race that tradition had said
couldn't be fooled.
Gentlemen had been Maria Belle's
meat. Not one out of twenty had
suspected her. She had been careful.
Grammar was her strong point.
Grammar. Until now. She was with
friends now, Maria Belle had told
them, laughing, and grammar could
go to the dickens. ‘
Lulu and Gomez laughed at that,
too, although he had looked a little
mad, but only for a moment because
Maria Belle’s eyes, seeking Gomez’
glance, had told him flatteringly that
of course, she wouldn't think of try-
ing to fool anybody as smart as he
was. Gomez was a man. Lulu had
seen = the look, and mentally, her
friendship for Maria Belle had end-
ed on the moment. a }
On, one of her slow trips from the
kitchen laundry work to the bedroom
Lulu saw that Miss Susan had gone
out quietly. Maybe ,though, she was
spying on her through a crack in the
door or something. After the soft-
ly savage, “You take it off,” of two
hours previous, Lulu was prepared
for anything her mistress might do or
say,
Very quietly, she walked through
the whole apartment. She even tried
the bathroom door and found her
suspicion unwarranted. She return-
ed to the bedroom. Then, on a new
and momentarily - obscure suspicion,
she went to the closet door and
opened it.
‘The purple transparent wage of sin
was not hanging on its padded hang-
er. It was nowhere in the closet.
Lulu looked mo further. For all of
of her, it could be lying at the bot-!
tom of any bureau drawer forever.
. a minute!
long ago,
With silent ferocity Lulu closed
the door.
Maria Belle had run out of liquor.
It was stupid. Just plain stupid to
have a party and invite a lot of
friends and then run out of drinks be-
fore two hours were over. Gomez re-
garded her with amused contempt;
then he told her to put on something
so that she wouldn't catch cold, and
run down the street to his club.
Even as Lulu had imagined the
scene, he added, “And don’t come
back unless you bring plenty! Georgie
will carry it over for you. Hey, wait
You put your hat on, too.
Where's your suitcase? Want the
whole world to know what you’re car-
29
Gomez was proud of his educated
tongue, his nice inflection, and the
fact that people did what he wanted
them to do. He turned his back on
Maria Belle’s hurried departure and
tried half-heartedly to keep her party
going.
It wasn’t easy, taking this crowd
and kidding them into a swell time.
He was kind of sick of things, rest-
less. Tonight he was capable of
poetry but what was he doing? Fid-
dling with the confounded radio that
Maria Belle thought was so wonder-
ful. Of course, he had given her the
radio. She probably didn’t mean it.
He'd sell this alleged soul of his
this night to meet a woman who
would mean what she said, some wo-
man to whom he could write poetry
and not be ashamed later of having
written it, or of the way she had
looked at it—some woman, perhaps,
who didn’t even know he could put a
black man’s worship down on paper.
There might be sweet tragedy in dis-
tant worship.
Maria Belle. Lulu. Maria Belle
bored him. And Lulu had bored him
perhaps because of her
tenacity. Black woman’s tenacity,
but it was honest. Lulu usually said
what she thought. But that wasn't
enough, not nearly enough; there had
to be something in the thought.
Lulu put her arms around him. The
radio blared forth the jazz offering
of the hour. “Dance, Gomez—
honey ?”
His handsome, insolent face re-
mained handsome, insolent and re-
mote. But his arm went mechanical-
ly about her and in a moment they
were part of an impressively involved
and splendid rhythm.
Maria Belle’s other guests watch-
ed them for a moment, approvingly,
but with no more than casual appro-
bation. All of them could dance as
well as Gomez and Lulu, and soon
they did. Maria Belle’s apartment
seemed to expand to accommodate
the dozen moving, intent couples. Af-
ter a few minutes, the female half of
a couple that had been “stepping”
close to the door hurried over to Lulu.
“Hey, Lu! Yuh got com’ny askin’
for yuh. Says she’s got a present f’
the pahty and wants t’ give it t’ yuh
puhson’lly. White lady.”
Gomez released Lulu. Lulu froze
in her green velvet slippers. Why,
what had made Miss Susan come
here? Was it because she couldn't
get anyone to carry the stuff? Was
it because she didn’t want to disap-
point ?
“Move on, girl,” Gomez said.
to entertain your company.”
Almost before the last word had
left his mouth he turned off the radio.
Maria Belle’s guests uneasily fell into
company attitudes, standing up.
At the doorway Miss Susan smiled
affectionately at her maid and held
out a parcel. Lulu received it in-
credulously.
Miss Susan was wearing the pur-
ple transparent cape. She probably
was going to a night club in Harlem
—why didn’t she go, then? What
was she waiting for?
Restlessly, Lulu thanked Miss Su-
san again, said that the party cer-
tainly needed her present—and still
Miss Susan made no sign of gracious-
ly withdrawing.
Gomez came up behind Lulu, defer-
“Got
entially. In his dinner coat his big
chest was framed magnificently. His
body towered over her and his inso-
lent eyes swept her mistress’ face,
only to drop at last in embarrassed
admiration.
For the ermine collar rose up be-
hind Miss Susan’s face and made a
startling picture of her white skin,
her long red mouth, and her lazy,
deep black eyes. Her hair shone with
extraordinary luster, and her hands
played beautifully, if a bit nervously,
tabout her breast.
Gomez lifted his wondering eyes to
find an answering gleam in her own.
If he were a poor miserable wretch,
it might be different, but surely,
whoever she was, she would forgive
him if he let her alone see his secret
adoration. Insolence was swept out
of his eyes. They were left brooding
bitter,
Then they lighted with a stark
amusement. He had remembered all
the things that Lulu told him of her
“Miss Susan.” He had seen the heap
of diamond rings on her fingers, the
gleam of another and more spectacu-
lar heap on her wrists.
She was nearly as bad as Lulu—
Lulu with her orchid beaded evening
gown, and her gaudy green velvet
slippers. But one had to remember
the polite order of things, even in the
midst of the death of a poem.
“Are you sure that you won't come
in for just a moment?” :
It was his best night-club manner,
and like many another white woman
Miss Susan seemed charmed by it.
She entered Maria Belle's living room
in a radiance of purple and ermine
and diamond. rings and a pleasing
clatter of white rhinestone heels, and
sat, graciously in the chair that he
held for her. Er
“I'work for Miss Susan,” Lulu ex-
plained to Maria Belle’s apartment
full of guests, quiet clustered maids,
chauffeurs and night-club roust-
abouts.
Polite. wide smiles acknowledged
the importance of the introduction,
Miss Susan’s smile as wide as any of
them. Lulu decided she was drunk.
Gomez asked Miss Susan if she
would give him the honor of allowing
him’ to fix her a high ball, a high ball,
he said, that was a favorite in his
own club.
of his high balls would be an honor,
and then she smiled sweetly upon
Lulu. Raging, Lulu knew that she
was drunk. For some strange
reason Miss Susan had fortified her-
self earlier in the evening, picked up
her bottles, summoned a cab dad
with the whole business had come
careening into Harlem and into
Maria Belle’s disordered house.
While Gomez was holding out the
high ball to Miss Susan and she was
reaching for it with her perfect
hands, Maria Belle returned, her
laughter, ilke the trumpet for a
queen, preceding her. Gomez’ club
had not sent her out into the night
without fortifying her, too,
mez’ hired man, Georgie, brought up
the rear with a suitcase full of fur-
ther fortification for the multitude.
' At the threshod Maria Belle stead-
ied herself, and her large eyes took in
the phenomenon of the white lady
| drinking Gomez’ drink. Then she
bellowed:
| “Look who's here! Oh, Lordy, will
you look who's here!” She heeled
over to Miss Susan and kissed the
top of her lustrous head and flung
her arms to high heaven. “Let’s get
a look at you, honey! I knew when
you left N’Awleans you'd land up
here. But why didn’ you let me know,
honey? We could of come up togeth-
er. What you been doin’, anyway?”
In the wind of Maria Belle’'s ex-
citement her grammar went to tat-
ters, and her cultivated reticence,
too. She told Gomez and Lulu and
the rest of them:
“Susie and I hit things right in
N’Awleans. She's a great kid. If we
didn’ want to, nobody ever knew we
was anythin’ but Grade-A white!
Gomez—Lu! Get everybody t’ drink
to my frien’ Susie!”
Her inebriation prevented verbal
explanations. Not that anyone felt
like making them at the moment."
Tartly amused, no longer envious, Lu-
lu unwaveringly regarded Miss Su-
san, who refused to look at her,
drank her own high ball and talked
feverishly with Maria Belle about old
times. But Lulu knew. She knew
that Miss Susan would give anything
to undo this night’s work, undo this
self-willed crashing of Maria Belle’s
party that had betrayed her.
Lulu thought, platitudinously, look-
ing at Maria Belle, that the world
. was a small place. Old friends usu-
ally met up sooner or later in it.
Look at the way that she herself had
met up again with Maria Belle and
lost Gomez to her.
| Miss Susan, however, was unable to
help herself. Living a lie was one
thing. The call of race was another.
If not tonight, it would have happen-
ed some other night. Miss Susan
probably had the sense to know that.
{ She would have been forced in insid-
ious fashion, like the inner working
of a drug, to go sometime to see what
her people were doing, and entranced,
, be unable to tear herself away at the
right moment. There was no further
escape for Miss Susan.
Lulu smiled. She wondered if Miss
Susan had thought to bribe her. Yet
Miss Susan .must know that there
was no bribe big enough to stay her
‘maid's tongue. Miss Susan probably
knew by this time that she had had
‘an extremely generous gentleman. '
{Only once in a blue moon did a girl
find a gentleman like that.
In her mind, just as soor as she
would in fact, Lulu relegated him to
| the past. It would be a long time be-
fore she would choose to forget that
little matter of the purple transpar-
| ent-velvet cape.
Gomez was going. He was sorry to
leave them, but a man had to attend
to his business or soon he wouldn’t
have any business to attend.
To Lulu’s former mistress he was
saying, “So long, Susie! See you
down at my club sometime.” He was
holding the door open for himself. He
paused a moment to sweep Miss Su-
san’s perfect body with a careless,
too casual glance. Insolence had re-
| turned to his handsome face. ;
It amused him now to think that he
had begun to treasure her in his mind
‘as a statue graciously molded of
' purest, most precious ivory, one most
jworihy of his secret worship. Lulu
{and Maria Belle had dispelled that
: Sweet humility and riddled his hidden
(image deep with the black stream
that was black blood, of the dark
world that was his own.
His eyes told her that she would
come to him, and come again. But
the love he would give her would be
a vagrant, facile thing. It could hold
no secure place for any clouded-
ivory figurine that deep within its
exquisite bosom held shame for its
color.
Long after he had left, Lulu still
smiled. It was
from thinking of a ten-foot closet
full of twenty thousand dollars’
worth of stuff, a closet that by to-
morrow would be quite, quite empty.
Hearst's International Cosmopoli-
n.
REAL ESTATE TRANSFERS
H. P. Kelly, et al, to William Fleck,
| tract in Snow Shoe Twp.; $406.
Citizens B. and L. Association, to
Harry Forbes, et ux, tract in South
Philipsburg: $130.
William W. Orndorff, et ux, to
Poor District of Marion Twp., tract
in Marion Twp.; $1.
O. H. Bathgate, et ux, to Thomas
H. Wilson, tract in College Twp.;$1.
George Jodon, et ux, to Newton C.
Gill, et ux, tract in Potter twp.; $800.
Robert Baney, to John H. Shawley,
et ux, tract in Bellefonte; $150.
H. E. Dunlap, Sheriff, to C. D.
Bartholomew: tract in State College;
$2050. nr
W. A. Neidigh, et ux, to J. Linn
Woomer, tract in State College; $1.
Wiliam S. Sweeley, et ux, to C. E.
McClellan, tract in Miles Twp.; $1.
Alice E. Herman, et al, to John R.
Herman, et ux, tract in Spring Twp.;
$1. :
Harry A. Rossman, et ux, to James
P. Aikens, tract in College Twp.; $1.
Thomas G. Haugh, et al, to Thomas
G. Haugh, et al, tract in State Col-
lege; $1.
Miss Susan assured him that one
and Go-
‘of little quilted jacket,
impossible to keep !
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
Those who are prepared for the worst
are the ones who generally get the best
of it.—Selected.
—For a delightful feminine touch,
a black mourning dress has a point-
ed vestee and puff cuffs of hand-em-
j broidered batiste.
—In an era when feminine styles
call for more dressy accessories, the:
choice of extras to go with a given:
costume is a true test of woman's
' chic.
Restraint is needed this summer
in choosing accessories. One should
aim at a minimum of accessories
rather than a maximum.
The smartness of sports things de-
pends largely upon accessories this
summer for the summer outfit is
built around the sleeveless white
frock, mainly. Given the right kind
a smart
hat banded in color like the sandals:
and a bag that ties up the whole and
the summer girl is a pleasing picture..
In choosing jackets, the one with:
a feminine little collar, with a novel
tie-belt or with some other soft touch:
is better than the straight, mannish-
cardigan. A new type of jacket is:
the slip-on cardigan, which opens:
like a man’s shirt half-way down:
from a man’s shirt half-way down:
sleeveless.
Scarfs and kerchiefs have an en--
viable place in woman’s heart. New-
little jersey turbans and scarfs in:
brilliant tones are excellent for mon-
otone suits. Men’s cotton or linen-
handkerchief, colorfully plaided and"
with hems rolled, are the newest"
sports kerchief. They may band a
hat, girdle the hips or tie about the~
neck.
—It is always a gracious gesture.
to take your hostess a box of candy
-when you go on a week-end visit. In.
fact , candy is the ever acceptable.
gift. It is too bad that in the hustle
and bustle of modern living so many
of the little niceties are averlooked.
When I was a girl, the week-end.
box of candy was as much a. part of.
father’s home-coming as the 5:45.
Your nice husband need not be.
afraid of seeming old fashioned. Ev-
en if it is a cocktail party, the candy -
will be appreciated just the same.
And just another little hint, while
I am about it. I always take a box:
of my favorite candy when I am go~
ing for a long drive.
If I get tired and nervous and a.
bit hungry and start to back-seat-
drive, friend husband bristles with -
silent but none the less obvious in-
dignation and it would not take long ~
for a strained situation to arise.
But if there is a box of candy
along, I close my mouth firmly over
a caramel and in a few minutes (sug-
ar is turned so quickly to nervous:
energy, you know) the strain is re-
laxed and I can lay back at ease
once more and realize that my hus-
band has not suddenly lost his eye-~
sight and reasoning powers and real-
ly can see the pitfalls of the road
quite as well as I can—and all's well
with the world once more.
We ride along quietly munching"
our candy content.
—Eggs can be better preserved if
they are stored where there is a cer- -
tain amount of carbon dioxide in the
air, according to Paul F. Sharp of
: the New York State College of Agri-
| culture, who has just published the
results of some experiments on eggs
in Science.
Eggs stored in ordinary air spoil
| rapidly after they lose the carbon di-
, oxide which is part of the egg. As
; Soon as an egg is laid it starts to be-
| come more alkaline and this hastens
decay. This alkaline tendency, how-
ever, can be easily and conveniently
neutralized and controlled if the eggs
are placed where the air contains
small amounts of carbon dioxide.
This discovery has a practical re-
sult because carbon dioxide can be
introduced into cold storage rooms in
amounts which greatly retard the de-
structive changes in the eggs and yet
the amount in the air will not be
enough to prevent workmen from en-
tering the storage rooms. Carbon
dioxide can be used also in shipping
containers and in refrigerator cars.
A convenient source of this gas
can be used, such as the solid form
or the gas form in cylinders. Prof-
essor Sharp says the only method of
preserving: eggs which approaches
this one in cheapness and practicabil-
ity is the oil dipping method in whick
eggs are dipped in a suitable of
i which very nearly seals the pores
The carbon dioxide method is super:
ior to the oil method, because the
whites of the oil-dipped eggs become
cloudy in storage. Those preservec
by carbon are not cloudy after the
eggs are removed from the air whict
contains the carbon dioxide.
Ribbon Sandwiches.— These ar:
made in different ways, varying botl
breads and filling according to fancy
For instance, take six thin slices. o
bread and butter on both sides
Spread layers of deviled ham o
chicken between, then press the en
tire sandwich. Slice crosswise, mak
ing thin ribbon-like sandwiches. O:
use alternate slices—wafer thin—o
white and brown bread, with a fillin;
of cheese and chopped nuts or olives
Potato Scones.—Put some boile
potatoes, mashed, on to a bakin,
board and add as much flour as th
potatoes will ‘take in. Then form in
to little mounds, pat lightly with th
hand; add a little flour; bake on
hot griddle, turning once. Serve ho
Cottage Pudding.—Cream tw
tablespoonfuls of butter, add one-ha.
of a cupful of sugar and cream agai
Add one egg well beaten, then, a
ternately one cupful of milk and tw
cupfuls of ‘flour. Lastly, stir in one
half a teaspoonful of salt and or
and one-half teaspoonfuls of bakin
powder, beat hard for three minute
pour into a rather shallow cake pa:
which has been well greased, ar
bake for about half an hour in a he
oven. Serve with lemon sauce.