«A ——
“Bellefonte, Pa., August 22, 1980.
————————————————————————————
WAS IT YOU?
Someone started the whole day wrong—
Was it you?
Someone robbed the day of its song—
Was it you?
Early this morning someone frowned;
Someone sulked until others frowned,
And soon harsh words were passed
around—
Was it you?
Someone started the day right—
Was it you?
Someone made it happy and bright—
Was it you? .
Early this morning, we are told,
Someone smiled, and all through the
day
This smile encouraged the young and
old—
Was it you?
A little more smile, a little less frown,
A little less kicking a man when he's
down.
A little more ‘‘we” and little less “I”,
A little more laugh, a little less cry.
A little more flowers on the path of life,
And fewer on the graves at the end of
life. .
—H., P. Trowel
ENTIRELY HAPPY
There were, apparently, so many
reasons why Anthony Clavering’s
marriage should fail to be a success
that all his friends, and particular-
ly his relatives, hastened duly to
record objection.
“Youll play second fiddle all
your. life, Old Son.” That was Bart-
ley McClain, his best friend, speak-
ing in sober warning.
© Virheatrical people never take
marriage seriously.” That was his
Aunt Agatha, whose heir he would
one day be, bluntly voicing her acid
disapproval.
There were the countless others
who couldn’t in the least see what
the famous Jacinth Clive saw in
him, and did not hesitate to say so,
and even his mother, making her
gentle wish for his happiness with
a wistfulness which betrayed her.
«I want youto be happy, my son!”
Meaning that the chances were
against him. Meaning that she
feared for him, although she great-
ly admired Jacinth. Meaning that
because she loved him, she was un-
easy.
Taken all in all, there was really
cause for uneasiness, Tony frankly
admitted to himself. Why, out of all
those who had wanted her, should
Jacinth have chosen him? In the or-
dinary run of things he did well
enough, perhaps, one of these tall,
athletic, moderately well-to-do ' New
Yorkers, inconspicuous because of
their numbers, but he was in no
way extraordinary and certainly not
wonderful enough for Jacinth, who
in her twenties was already famous,
and had her own theater just off
Broadway, and held her public se.
curely in the hollow of her small
hand. :
Altogether Jacinth's choice of him-
self seemed so little justified that he
found himself unable to believe in
the reality of it.
Even their marriage was subtly
unreal, with superlatively lovely
bridesmaids chosen from Jacinth’s
company, and the best of the New
York theatrical world crowding into
the church pews along with his own
more sombre, more conservative
element,
Himself driving away in the new
roadster then, with Jacinth beside
him, his ring upon her finger, bridal
lilies at her slender waist, costumed
in orchid chiffon with purple coat,
hat, and shoes far more appropriate
for tea at the Ritz than a motor
trip, and managing thereby to add
to that haunting impression of un-
reality.
“But, darling, you needn't be reck-
less with your frocks,” he protested
later that evening, when Jacinth dis-
carded her costly outfit into a con-
venient waste basket because it was
rainspotted. You'd be lovely tome
in anything. And that flimsy stuff
for motoring—"
“But the public expects me to be
extravagant,” informed Jacinth gaily.
“My extravagance is a byword on
Broadway—or perhaps I mean buy-
word ?"
After which she laid the fragant
caress of her cheek against his cheek
and told him smilingly not to worry.
“I've plenty of frocks, Tony. A
fresh one for every day in the year if
I want it. And, oh, it’s heavenly to
have enough of everything!”
Which spoke so plainly of the
Jacinth who hadn't always had
enough of things that he could pro-
test no further, although he really
knew little about the Jacinth who
hadn't always had things.
As blue of eye, as white of skin,
as satiny black hair she must have
been then as she was now, only
wanting things terribly instead of
having them. And in the end, per-
haps because of that wanting, hav-
ing them.
The honeymoon, as the days
slipped by, was also slightly unreal.
Too smooth, too perfect, no oc-
casional clash of wills to strike a
deeper note.
Tony without meaning in the least
to be bitter, as though Jacinth were
playing a new role, and playing it
superbly, with just the right touch
of sentiment,
Later, the honeymoon over and
themselves returned to the city, he
found that the fairy-tale quality of
their life together was to persist.
As the lights of New York loomed
up ahead of them, Jacinth murmur-
ed casually that she had a surprise
for him.
The bungalow was the surprise.
It stood on top of a great hotel,
with roses blooming in earth which
had been barren a scant three mnths |
It had ‘a huge living-room. | the box,
huge dining-room = where = they | to purchase a seat would have been
before.
a
It was almost, thought
rooms. Onyx, black, and gold
bathrooms which seemed so bizarre
to Tony that Jacinth laughed at
his expression.
“The public expects me to be
bizarre!” she explained.
There was also a room for
each to be held inviolably private.
“To be ourselves in,” explained
Jacinth, hurting Tony without being
in the least aware of it, because
Tony had no self he needed to cogceal
from Jacinth.
It was perfect, and Tony said so
sturdily, concealing the fact that his
own preference was for simpler liv-
Because, after all, it was perfect:
the bungalow itself, with its elegance
ed heavens, its air which was purer
than that breathed by ordinary mor-
tals; the servants, whose quiet min-
istering to their comfort was that
something higher than competent
service which was adoration of Ja.
cinth herself.
And after dinner had been served
in the tiny dinning-room, and they
sat together among the roses which
had been caused to bloom at Jacinth’s
decree, Tony was humbly of the
opinion that God was good to him,
and hoped for a long succession of
such evenings.
Even if he wasn't wonderful
enough for Jacinth, he loved her.
derstand why, she loved him. And
the living of a fairy-tale could be a
delightful business.
He should, however, have known
that it couldn’t last, because, after
all, roses do not bloom in New York's
October breezes, and there was in-
evitably the public to be considered.
One night, soon after their return,
Jacinth looked up shining-eyed from
a manuscript she had been reading
on the huge French sofa which
stood in the living-room. Every-
thing in that room was so large
that abruptly Tony was aware that
only a room planned for the fre-
quent assembling of throngs of
people would have attained such
heroic proportions.
“Pll love playing this!” said Jacinth
with eagerness out strong in her
lovely voice. “It's the sort of thing
I do best, Tony—light comedy with
a touch of wistful sentiment,”
Casually she added that rehearsals
would begin in another week.
“A— week?” repeated Tony past
a tightness in his throat, and at
something in his stricken stillness
Jacinth pulled him down beside
her.
“But you knew I'd have to go
back to the theater, Tony!”
There was, it seemed, the matter
of a contract, and the theater people
had been unbelievably decent about
letting her stay away so long.
“I should have to go back,” stated
Jacinth seriously. ‘““But you wouldn't
want me to give it up, Tony?”
Thinking it out, he saw that he
didn’t want her to give it up. That
Jacinth’s work had somehow made
her Jacinth, and it was Jacinth he
loved. But what he really wanted
was for her to continue tebe Jacinth
and to pull herself free of the pub-
lic, and that, it seemed, was impos.
sible.
The world came between them
then. Or, rather, it was Jacinth’'s
world which came between them.
Stage managers, producers, a slim
boy author with a sensitive face to
be dealt with, all the confusing de-
mands of a play going into pro.
duction to be met.
“Be nice to him,” begged Jacinth
about the boy author. “ He's writ-
ten a lovely thing, but the chances
are he will never write another.”
That, she explained, was because
success would spoil him. Success
was a quicksand which dragged peo-
ple down before they suspected it.
Watching the deepening arrogance
of the boy author, Tony saw that
she was right. When it came time
for the author to write another play,
he would have only arrogance to put
into it, and the public would not
care for arrogance.
But there was Jacinth herself.
Success had not spoiled Jacinth!
That was because she knew the
truth, explained Jacinth. The pub.
lic was not really interested in her.
The public was interested in the
legendary character she had created
for them.
“That’s why we live in this bunga-
law, Tony. A bungalow upon the
ground is only a house. A bungalow
close to the stars takes on an as-
pect of achieved impossibility. All
this is part of the spell by which I
retain my hold upon the imagination
of the public, One must fit the ped-
estal, you know.
Anthony regarded her with a sen-
sation of awe. Such clear, sharp
| thinking for such a pretty head!
He began to see why Jacinth at
twenty-five had her own theater,
| why the Jacinth who had apparent-
ly no more than any other pretty,
i talented girl to offer had conquered
New York. Also he perceived that
{the unreal quality he had sensed
tabout their life together was the
product of deliberate creation.
Jacinth wouldn’t, perhaps - couldn’t,
meet life on the same terms on
which other people met life.
i The play opened, and Jacinth spent
the long day preceding its initial
performance alone in the room which
wasito enable her to express her real
self.
Gathering mysterious strength of
personality for forthcoming conquest,
reflected Tony, eating his solitary
dinner. No doubt she was right, but
he was feeling lonely and out of
i things in spite of himself, when he
went to the theater, and inclined
not to use the stage box provided
for him, but to purchase an incon-
| spicuous seat where he would be
lost among the masses,
Second thought changed this pref-
erence. Jacinth would expect him
[to be in the box. Might even, at
i some hazardous moment, be either
"subtly steadied by his presence or
subtly unsteadied by his absence.
After he had seated himself in
he saw that any attempt
would’ entertain. < A small diming- | ridiculous in that the theatre was
room ‘where ‘they would eat when [packed to ove
they were alone. Bedrooms. Dress-
2
rflowing.
Brénnan, the stage manager, drop-
of furnishing, its view of unimped- |
Apparently, though he couldn't un-,
ped into the box briefly before the
curtain went up. “Nice crowd, eh,
Clavering? But Jacinth’s first nights
always draw a crowd.”
Shrewdly he studied Tony's im-
ve face,
“You'll find it none to easy,
ing
be-
married to a celebrity, Claver-
ing. There are times a man simply.
has to take second place with a
great personality like Jacinth.”
He hesitated, looking closer into
Tony's impassivity.
“I'm saying this only to be kind,
you know. I like you,
we all do! We were uneasy when
i Jacinth married, but you seem to
be the right man. I mever saw her
The lights went out. Brennan went
away. The play began, and because
he was familiar with the play, Ton
watched the crowd, while his heart
Clavering—
|
Y |
after Jacinth had fallen instantly
asleep in the bed beside his own,
wondering what possible need of
himself Jacinth could have. Jacinth
was sufficient to herself. That was
why she had climbed so high. Only
people who were sufficient to them-
selves could climb high, And he
wanted so urgently to be necessary.
Any man in love wanted to be
necessary.
Winter went slowly by. Tony grew
accustomed to waiting in Jacinth’s
dressing room. To departing morn-
ings without waking Jacinth. To
making frequent public appearances
as the husband of his famous wife.
“You don’t mind it too much?” de-
more glorious than she is tonight.” manded Jacinth deprecatingly.
“Not too much,” he assured, and
that was true enough.
What he minded was feeling that
he could so little serve her, that he
listened to every note of Jacinth’s [could so little protect her—or, rath-
voice,
ithat marvelous voice!
; built with that voice and some magic
How she swayed them with ©
How she | tection.
|
i
that Jacinth so little needed pro-
Added luster to the crown of
of her own a creation with which fame, glittering notices of the play
, the audience laughed and suffered
“gladly. It was as though the pack-
ed house had but
' Jacinth pulled upon the strings of
that heart at will with gaiety, with
sweetness, and with light sorrow,
as she did upon his own.
Sitting there in the semi-gloom,
Tony saw tired, unhappy people es.
cape from their wearying selves and
$S1ip over into a new world. Escape,
that was what Jacinth gave them,
and a haunting knowledge of beau-
ty, because Jacinth herself was love-
ly. Escape, and something with which
to fight away that disillusionment
which is a crumbling of the soul.
He had never given particular
thought to Jacinth’s talent, because
Jacinth herself had intrigued him
to give it consideration as some.
thing entirely separate from Jacinth.
A responsibility which they shared,
that talent. Something which they
must struggle mutually to give to
the world,
The play came to an end. The
lights flashed on for the last time,
and he saw that the audience was
still under the spell. Near bya wo-
man with the heavy, yellow-gold
turned to her clumsy
husband with renewed tenderness,
and all over the house he saw the
same sight: new tenderness called
forth, the tribute of silence, the
tribute of tears!
Jacinth was waiting for him back
‘| stage, still in costume. still in make-
up, her eyes feverish between heavi-
ly beaded lashes.
“Was it good, Tony?”
“It was perfect,” he assured her.
“Not perfect,” denied Jacinth, re-
laxing with a sigh of content.
“Weak in spots, but good.”
He saw that she was intensely
weary, as though vitality had de-
parted from her in a remarkable
degree. She was perceptibly trem.
bling, and Sarah, her plump, middle-
aged theatrical dresser, came from
behind the dressing screen to shake
her head in warning.
“Miss Jacinth’s worn out, Mr.
Clavering.” ga |
He would take her home at once,
stated Tony firmly. Jacinth must
rest. Tomorrow held another per-
formance. >
“And a rehearsal,” sighed Jacinth
ruefully.
“But I can't rest yet,” she added
repentantly, “We must attend a
supper with the producer and the
author. The author expects it. He
would be greatly hurt if we didn’t
go.”
She dressed.
Sitting outside the screen, in an
atmosphere which was becoming
familiar to him, Tony waited with
closed eyelids. The scent of flowers
with his own somewhere among
them. The scent of powder. Of
perfume. Of new costumes. All
blending into one harmonious whole
which was the very soul of the
theatre.
The author,
radiant.
“Your greatest success,” he pro-
nounced, “The only play you have
ever had which was just right for
you!”
The producer, remembering other
triumphs, lifted bored eyebrows pro-
testingly, but Jacinth was generous.
The play was wonderful, she de.
clared warmly, and she loved every
line of it. As. well she might,
thought Tony with a smile remem-
bering how many lines Jacinth her-
self had written into the play.
“Don’t mind him!” urged Jacinth
in a swift aside to Tony as they
went outside into the pleasantly
sharp air of late evening. “This is
his big moment, and he may never
have another. That's sad, isn’t it?”
Perhaps it was sad, but as the
boy author talked interminably
through supper and the producer
withdrew farther into silent bore.
dom, and Jacinth exhausted herself
in the role of sympathetic listener,
Tony grew savage.
“My wife must have rest,” hein-
sisted at last, standing up in brusk
inability to endure longer the sight
of purple smudges of weariness be-
neath lovely blue eyes.
“But of course—’ yielded the boy
author reluctantly. “I am being
selfish,”
“You are!” declared the producer
brutally, encouraged into frank rude-
ness by the prospect of release.
“I've been dead the last hour.”
Through a gray dawn Anthony
Clavering and his famous wife went
home.
He must leave at nine to fill an
important appointment, remem-
'bered Tony. That meant he would
see ‘Jacinth only at dinner. Then
would come the evening performance
——desolately he looked into an im-
medjate future in which he and
Jacinth could spend little time to-
gether.
“You'll give me Sunday?” he in-
quired of a Jacinth 'resting limply
against his shoulder.
“But, - my. darling, of course I
(will give you Sunday!” . promised
Jacinth, opening . her eyes. “No-
body. shall rob us of that!”
"In spite of the eager reassurance
of her reply, Tony lay awake long
joining them, was
so utterly, but now he was forced
wedding ring of a past generation
inarticulate :
|
one heart, and | the theatre,
:
1
in the newspapers, long files of peo-
ple in line before the ticket office of
long lines of carriages
discharging jeweled freight at eight-
thirty, the public incessantly surg-
ing in between Jacinth and himself.
He returned from the office slight.
ly earlier than usual, one day, to
find Jacinth stretched full length
upon the sofa in the huge living-
room.
“We're closing the theatre,” an-
nounced Jacinth calmly, “You'll have
me with you quitea lot now, Tony.”
Closing the theatre—with all the
throngs still jostling for admittance.
Slowly Tony understood.
Now the lacking element of reality
was to be added to his marriage.’
Now he was at last to be necessary
to Jacinth, but perceiving that love,
for Jacinth, had been a trap, ¢his
own joy became slightly uncertain,
and ‘uneasily he reflected upon the
amazing cost of his child.
No king’s son had ever been so
costly! There was a queer pride in
the thought, until he wondered if
Jacinth would think their love worth
what it was costing. He didn’t know.
He really didn't know very mich,
after all, about the Jacinth who was
so gay and light-hearted even in
her most solemn moments.
He remembered how she had
laughed during their wedding, ex-
plaining later:
“The ring’s entirely too large,
darling. And I kept thinking that
if I lost it, nobody would believe we
were married, and that would be
quite too bad, wouldn't it?”
He remembered his solemnity as
opposed to her lightness, and that he
had tied the ring on tightly against
the possibility of losing it, because
no other ring would ever be the same.
No, he didn’t know a lot aboul
Jacinth., He'd never known beyond
doubt that she loved him. People |
could be fooled about love, and peo-
ple were fooled sometimes. But if
Jacinth had been fooled, she would
know it now. Nobody could pay so
heavy a cost for something which
wasn’t love, and not know.
After a time the theatre was
dark, and Tony took little hope from |
inadvertently overhearing Brennan's
raging protest and Jacinth's quiet
reply.
“But any woman can have a child,
Jacinth!”
“Any woman can’t have my child,
Brennan.”
And, of course, that was true, and
if Jacinth felt like that about it,
perhaps she was neither counting
nor minding the cost of love. ;
Long evenings of happy compan-
ionship then, with fire leaping gaily
upon the hearth, and roses, pink,
white, yellow, and red, standing
about in tall vases and the public
barred out.
Almost Tony could convince him-
self now that his marriage was like
other marriages. ;
“You're happy, aren’t you, Tony?”
said Jacinth, laughing at him.
“I'm happy,” acknowledged Tony
past a lump in his throat.
He wanted to say more, much
more, and couldn't, perhaps because
Jacinth had laughed at him, perhaps
because he wasn’t entirely happy,
not being sure his happiness would
last, nor being sure their marriage
‘had come down at last to the plane
of reality.
He couldn't even ask
herself were happy,
was really so much more important
than his own happiness,
And then, right in the middle of
that time of quiet peace when Tony
came home every night whistling
and used his latchkey to let him-
self in instead of ringing, because
it gave him so much more the feel-
ing of being a happy householder,
the bottom dropped out of things
for Tony. Jacinth went away,
shutting him out of her life and
proving to every one—and to Tony
most of all—how little he had mat-
tered in her life.
One morning she was there, that
night she was not there, and after
that she was only a voice calling
him every evening to demand an ac-
count of his activities, but refusing
steadfastly to disclose her where-
abouts.
“Pll come back to you when this
is over, Tony.”
“Come back now, Jacinth.”
“Not now, Tony. Later!”
if Jacinth
“But why?”
A pause. A silence. An in-
credible answer. ‘You've loved me
because I was gay, Tony, because
I was charming. Everybody has
loved me because I was gay and
charming, and perhaps I shall not
be able to be gay and charming—
“That's no. true!” he managed,
then came the click of a replaced
receiver, - and next evening the
bright, laughing voice talked to him
again.
This went on and on, until the
night he waited in vain for the
laughing voice, walking the floor
queerly conscious of roses in the
tall vases, of fire on the hearth,
just as-it had been when Jacinth’
was there, of fingernails driven deep
into his palms, and of what his
frenzied thought said over and over.
“Jacinth—Jacinth—Jacinth—I send
although that
you strength—I send you love—O
God, let it count!
Perhaps it was a prayer. It must
have been, because at daylight the
phone rang sharply, and another
voice than Jacinth’s murmured an
address. Not two blocks away, just
around the corner, so near all this
time and yet, by Jacinth’s will, a
million miles removed.
Lights burned all over the house
to which his eager feet carried him.
Not high up inthe air, this house,
but on ground level, as though Jacinth
removed from contact with life, had
pathetically desired to contemplate
it
A smiling servant admitted him,
but he forgot the servant at the
threshold of the room to which she
led him, for there was Jacinth in
a room also filled with roses, red,
white, pink, yellow.
He had expected her to be
mysteriously different, but Jacinth
was so exactly the same Jacinth
that unaccountably rage gathered in
y's
A white_clad nurse brought for-
ward a bundle which was his son,
carefully wrapped, carefully held as
though unbelievably precious.
Jacinth’s eyes, Jacinth’s perfect
chin in miniature. A fuzz of hair
which would be dark.
“Quite a creditable job! said
Jacinth of the baby, belittling the
miracle by her complacency.
| “Quite!” said Tony out of stormy
young pride.
The nurse withdrew.
Tony fixed upon Jacinth eyes
which were stern with accusation.
“But I gave you the moment when
you came through that door!” said
! Jacinth, answering his silent re-
proach.
And so he had, of course, and he
dropped beside her on his knees,
anger forgotten, his face buried in
her shoulder.
“We'll be home soon now,” com-
forted Jacinth. Then, a little tensely,
| “Have you missed me, Tony?”
! Had he missed her? At this al-
together ridiculous question Tony
lifted his head, Their eyes met, and
Jacinth smiled, .
| Everything would be different be-
eatige of young Anthony, Tony was
certain of that during the next few
days. Young Anthony had brought
' reality and sane existence as gifts
in the palms of his two pink hands,
and was to be valued for this as
well as for his own engaging self.
No more uncertainty, no more of
the public endlessly coming between
them—but when Jacinth came back,
and they were three who had been
two, Tony found that he was wrong.
Nothing was to be different, after
all. Except for young Anthony him-
self, installed in the room which had
been Jacinth’s in which to be herself,
“with a small bedroom for the nurse
added on, fit was soon quite as it had
been.
There were crowds, dividing into
‘actors, producers, managers, authors.
There was the inevitable public, in-
exorably exerting the pressure of its
demands. And there was ‘the day
Tony came home to find Jacinth
{ poring over a new play upon the
{huge sofa in the living_room.
“It’s really good,” said Jacinth
contentedly. “I shall love doing
this.”
instantly the old bewildering fear
that life and the public might
eventually take Jacinth away from
him, which he had counted upon
the baby's driving away forever,
{came back to Tony.
But then, he admitted wretchedly,
.he hadn’t known Jacinth would ac-
| cept the baby so nonchalantly, She
iliked young Anthony whole-heartedly
‘and had an entirely friendly inter-
jest in him, but never once had she
{shown any stress of emotion over
| him.
i No, the baby hadn't mattered any
| more in Jacinth’s scheme of things
| than he himself mattered, decided
i Tony, and went to his dressing-
| room to prepare for dinner in a
heaviness of defeat which lastedall
! evening.
| It was, fortunately, ome of ‘their
| rare evenings alone, and Tony was
glad. Jacinth needed more quiet
and more rest than she was getting,
and if she was going back to the
theater—the heaviness of defeat
' deepened. 5
“You're not happy, are you,
{ Tony?” said Jacinth, as they left
ithe dinner table.
“Is anybody ever .really happy?”
countered Tony, smiling above the
betraying misery in his candid eyes.
“I want you happy, Tony. Iwant
you entirely happy!” persisted Jacinth
gently.
He had to turn away from her.
To talk of something unimportant
and far removed from what lay in
his heart. Because happiness, at
just that moment, was something
he couldn't discuss.
It was a little thing, after all,
which gave him the complete happi-
ness Jacinth desired for him, So
little a thing that it would have
been absurd, except for the power
of enlightment it carried with it.
Late that night Tony was roused
from reluctant sleep by Jacinth’s
precipitate departure from the room.
Not the usual sort of departure
certainly, he was drowsily sure of
that, but a spring which carried
her clear into the hall outside in
one bound.
Startled and alarmed, he followed.
Jacinth was in the nursery, lean-
ing over young Anthony's crib in
an absolute panic.
“He made a queer sound!” she ex-
plained. “I heard him!"
The nurse appeared from her bed-
room. “He coughed,” she explained,
smiling. “Even very little babies
cough.”
From her matter-of_factness Tony
was aware that in the eyes of the
nurse they presented an appearance
bordering on the ridiculous.
“Come, sweetheart,” he
leading her toward the door.
But in the hall outside Jacinth
clung to him with tears running down
her cheeks,
“I thought—' she sobbed—* if I
should lose him, . if I should lose
either of you!”
He had never known this Jacinth.
Had never even guessed that she
urged,
the
PEDESTRIANS RIGHTS
ON ROAD CROSSINGS.
Benjamin G. Eynon, commissioner
of motor vehicles, has declared that
recent rulings of the Pennsylvania
Supreme Court with respect to
pedestrians are of interest not only
to pedestrians, but to operators of
all motor vehicles.
‘“Pennsylvania’s highest court,”
said Commissioner Eynon, “has def-
initely defined the status of the
pedestrian and assured him beyond
question the rights conferred by the
Motor Vehicle Code. It behooves
pedestrians to recognize that at
times vehicle operators have superi-
or rights.”
Observations of the Supreme Court
in the case of Rhoads et ux. vs.
Herbert are as follows:
“When a driver of a motor car
approaches a regular crossing at an
intersecting street, he is bound to
exercise the greatest care for pe-
destrians thereon. and the car must
be operated so as to stop at the
shortest possible notice.
“What will be negligence at a
crossing is not necessarily negli-
gence between crossings; there a
vehicle need not be under instant
control; drivers are not required to
sound their horns there, and an
automobile has the right of way.
“A pedestrian on a regular cross-
ing, in view of a driver, hasrights
superior to those of the approach-
ing car; when he crosses between
the regular crossings, the superior
right to travel is in the automobile.
“While no fixed rules such as
those at and between crossings can
be laid down to govern conduct
where an automobile turns into a
street, the driver of a car must
make the turn with due regard not
only to pedestrians who may be on
the regular crossing, but also to
any person or vehicle lawfully on
the highway immediately beyond
and close to the crossing.
“An automobile cannot dash around
a corner at an undue rate of speed
and crash into a vehicle or pedestrian
without subjecting the driver to
liability.
In determining what is due care
in turning a corner, while consider-
ation must be given to the general
rules, they must be modified by the
nearness of the pedestrian to the
crossing, and the time and circum-
stances under which the accident
occurred. ?
“A speed of 20 miles an hour is
not ordinarily unusual between
crossings, but such speed in turning
a street corner at night into a
street 34 feet in width is negligence.
“Where one attempts to cross a
street between crossings when ve-
hicles are rapidly approaching close
by, and injury results, he will be
chargeable with such carelessness as
to prevent a recovery.
“Pedestrians may not be guilty
of negligence, as a matter of law,
in crossing a street between regular
crossings, but when they attempt
to do so, they are charged with a
high duty to observe approaching
traffic on the street crossed, and on
interesting street when the
crossing is made close to such in-
tersection; in this situation the
pedestrian has a double duty to
perform, that is, to watch for cars
on two streets.”
EE ETT meme lpm emma.
A CHINESE ROOM FOR
“OLD MAIN” AT STATE
When the rebuilt Old Main build-
ing at Pennsylvania State College
is opened for use in September, one
of the interesting features will be
a Penn State-China room.
Chinese fu.niture, pictures, lamps,
dishes, and other furnishings will
make the room a transported por-
tion of the Orient, Officials of
Lingnan University, Canton, China,
are supplying the complete furnish-
ings for the room and they will ar-
rive in New York September 8. A
representative of the New York of-
fice of the university will come to
State College to put the equipment
in place so that the effect will be
typically Chinese.
Besides being a show place, the
Penn State-China room wil be used
for conferences, including meetings
of the Penn State in China Mission
board. For many years students of
the college have sent their chapel
‘offerings to aid the work of Ling-
nan University, where two gradu-
ates of Penn State are on the
agricultural college staff. G. W.
Groff, of the class of 1907,is dean,
and L. M. Zook, a 1929 graduate, is
an instructor. A month ago the
dairy department of the college
presented a Holstein and two Jersey
heifers to Lingnan for use in the
dairy herd of the Far East school.
Dean R. L. Watts, of the Penn
State School of Agriculture, also
served for many years as a trustee
of the Chinese institution.
“Why don’t you
Johnny ?”
“I'm waiting for Billy. It tastes
much better when another feller is
lookin’ on.”
ene fp pes
—Are you reading your own paper
or that of some other person?
eat your apple,
existed, but immediately Tony loved
her more than he had ever loved
the gay, brilliant Jacinth he had
known.
Lifting her as though she had
been the baby they had left in the
other room, he carried her back to
bed, valiantly seeking comfort for
this Jacinth so completely shaken
and tremulous.
“But you can’t lose us!” he assur-
ed her, magnificently, in some strange
way entirely convinced of the truth
of his own statement, as though by
some means he had glimpsed im-
mortality.
He was so certain of it thal
Jacinth herself was convinced. Her
arms relaxed. She looked up, smil-
ing, terror vanished from her eyes
“Gibraltar!” said Jacinth, anc
anybody would have known ther
that she loved Tony and why.
Even Tony himself knew, and wa¢
‘at
last entirely happy. —By Ja}
Gelzer, in Good Housekeeping.