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Bellefonte, Pa., June 24, 1982,
——
THE BIG PROBLEM
Now Comes the college graduate,
His sheepskin in his hand,
To clarify and mitigate
The evils that contaminate
This worried land.
He knows the wherefore and the why
Of all tae cosmic plan,
His mind is soaring in the sky,
Aflame with notions far too high
For mortal man.
Beneath his calm, unruffied brow
Idyllic visions throb.
He dreams of noble conquests now
But soon he will be wondering how
To get a job,
CLAIR WAS A WONDERFUL GIRL
You don't have to tell me, my
dear! I know every tongue in West-
brook has been wagging its little
wag about Claire and every one else
concerned for more than a year.
That's why I want to tell you the
whole story. I feel that if some one
would explain just how it was—well,
1 suppost it would be too much to
hope that even people would under-
stand, but it might stop some of
the poisonous stories that have been
going around.
They met at school, you know.
Claire and Del. Claire was the cam-
pus queen. I mean she really was.
I think nearly every man in school
cherished a more or less hidden
yearning to go out with her, and
every girl was flattered to be seen
with her, Those big, lovely eyes,
that pale, blond hair, she was a
knockout then, just as she is now.
There were few coed cats who
said she was spoiled and vain and a
few other things. But they didn’t
know her. I did, and she was won.
derful.
We were pledged at the same
time. I always will think, and it
used to hurt a little but I've got
over it, that I just slipped into the
house under cover of the luxurious
fur coat Claire was wearing. I mean
we went there together and the
girls were so dazzled by her that I
probably tagged along, absolutely
unnoticed. And when they voted,
some one must have said, “Lucia
Franklin? Oh, she's the girl who
was with Claire!” and the magic of
her name carried me over.
After that, we were good friends.
I'll confess I sometimes wondered
what she could see in me—don't
bother to remonstrate, I know I'm
not beautiful and before I was mar-
ried and ‘blossomed out,” as they
say, I was even homelier, But that
has nothing to do with Claire ex-
cept that some of the cats used to
say that she went with me because
it made her seem better-looking! Did
you ever hear of anything so ridic-
ulous? I don't think Claire thought
much about her beauty. She just
accepted it.
By the time she was a junior,
Claire was class secretary, a mem-
ber of every all-campus dance com-
mittee, the year's hit in the annual
“Vode” and had numerous offers of
jeweled hardware from some of the
spnootiest vests along Fraternity
Row.
Then she met Del Long. Until’
that time, she had never really gone
with one man for very long. The
campus sometimes said that no one
dared annex her permanently, but I
think it was just because there was
no one good enough for her.
I must say that Del was a lot
smoother than most of the others.
He didn't dash forward and lay heart
and hardware immediately at her
feet. But I'll always think it wasn't
technique—just dumbness. He was
awfully unsophisticated for a boy as
good-looking and well liked as he
was,
He was magnificent looking! Still
is, people say. A wonderful profile
and big, wide shoulders. Played
football, of course. He had an awk-
ward grace about him. Sounds con-
tradictory, I know, but if you've.
scen some football players you
know what I mean. He always look-
el independent, too, and as though
he could tell all the world to
RUE, any minute it started pushing
m.
Until he met Claire, at the end of
their junior year, he hadn't gone out
with girls very much. He wasn't
any ordinary college boy, you could
eg Jat Maybe that explains things
a e.
Claire asked Del to a house dance
first, That was a good old custom
of the elect, I mean the most popu-
lar girls, to ask some one with
whom they'd never been out before.
It carried through the summer and
next year, our senior, Claire and Del
found themselves hero and heroine
of the school's most picturesque ro-
mance. Perhaps when you went to
College, there was one big love that
seemed to bathe the entire us
in a warm, rosy light. Well, you
know how it was then. They were
made for each other, or so one de-
cided.
I'l admit Claire was pretty firm
about some things as the year roll-
ed along. If Del came late or forgot
to telephone often enough, she put
her pretty foot down hard. But then
he didn't seem te mind, except
sometimes at first, for she was so
sweet and dear afterward when he'd
said how sorry he was and done
something nice to make up for it.
There was just one troublesome
time, I remember the day we were
leaving school. Claire and I were go-
ing home together and Del had a
job to finish up and was going to
drive down the next week, About an
hour or so before we left, Del came |
up. His face looked sort of funny, | then paused and seemed to give up.
And there were |I guess he had sense enough not
strained and set.
black circles under his eyes.
He had a funny old broken-down
looking car, you know the kind.
Horrible! But on the campus people | find they had been invited to stay
In fact, they thought at one of the grandest places in
€¢idn't mind.
almost pounced on her,
. scrapheap,
it was wonderful because Del was
| driving it.
He said he had something to tell
Claire and asked us to come out to
the car. I backed away with excuses
about packing, but he said, “You |
come, too, Lou.”
When we were out there, he turn- ing
ed to Claire and said, “Sweetheart,
I can't come to Westbrook for a
while—a long while, maybe.”
For a second, Claire looked as
though some one had slapped her.
Then she burst out laughing. “Dar-
ling,” she said, didn't you get a wink
of sleep last night? Your eyes look
terrible.”
He asked her if she was listening
She said, “Of course, Del, but
vou're talking such nonsense. You
know you're coming. You have to
meet mother and father and we're
going to have so much fun. Oh, dear,
now don't get me all upset just
when I'm leaving,” she said, looking
so sweet and coaxing. “I wanted
this to be a happy day, with us teli-
ing each other good-by and knowing
we'll meet again in just seven days.”
He raid something like this: “Well,
you see, Claire, to be frank, I
haven't nearly enough money. We
can't get married just yet, sc the
best thing for me is to work hard
so we can. I've been thinking it all
out the. last couple of nights.”
I don't know exactly what else he
said, but he looked intense and
serious, as though he wanted more
than anything, to be understood.
Claire flared up. “Del, don't make
money the excuse,” she said. ug
you want things to be over——
“Oh, Claire, I don't at all.” That
was Del, almost frantically. You
could ses he didn't, He was crazy
about her. As though any one
wouldn't be. “But don't you see,
don’t you understand that I sort of
owe it to myself to see what I can
do now that school is over?”
“I don't see at all,” Claire said,
“I suppose the next thing you'll say
is that you want to take that coach-
ing and teaching job at Outlands—
Outlands!” Her soft voice ridiculed
the pame and she leaned back
her head and laughed. Claire looks
marvelous when she laughs.
Del's face looked funny, sort of
fierce. “That's exactly what I was
going to say,” he said. “You've al-
ways laughed at Outlands—but after
all, it's near home and home's where
mom and dad are.”
She was looking straight ahead
at the row of trees bordering the
campus,
He went on: “You see, I want to
make—aw, heck—make something of
myself, all by myself—only that,
sounds dumb.”
“I'm afraid it does,” she said help-
fully. But you couldn't blame her for
being hurt, could you? “There's
this, Del. If you really care about
me, you'll come. After that, you
could do whatever you wanted.”
“It isn't fair to put it that way,
Claire,” Del said. “I could say if you
loved me, you'd come to Cutlands.”
He winced a little as though he
were afraid she mould laugh again.
She looked a little mysterious in-
stead, “No, Del, you know I couldn't
do that. For many reasons, If you
don't want to come, it's all right.”
“You mean it would be the—the
end?” he asked.
“You don't seem to mind letting
me go.” That was Claire. “Perhaps
it's better——"'
“Claire, I can't let you go,” Del
said.
She put her hand on his arm, her
head against his shoulder.
“I'll never ask anything of you
again,” she begged, “only come this
time and after that I'll do anything
you say.”
Oh, he came down all right, I
knew he'd keep his word and per-
haps that's one reason I was so sur-
prised when——
I must tell you about the day he
came. It was funny. There he drove
up the main street in that perfectly
preposterous old car of his. How it
made the trip, I don't know. It
rambled along, rattles to the right
and to the left. Claire looking like a
Jalry. Suineas, and I were waiting
in re's gorgeous big car. The
chauffeur looked far more well-turn-
ed-out than Del.
But I was glad to see the tramp.
There was some about him, At
that time I felt, “Well, here's a real!
man.” You see, we'd been playing
: to him.
go around with some of Claire's friends
and the young men were pretty
gosh-awful. The reclining kind, tea-
cup on knee. Oh, yes, frightfully good
contract players. But you know,
don't you?
Del looked as though he wanted
to gobble Claire up in one bite. He
his huge
arms out for her. She
laughed a little breathlessly and
pushed him feebly.
“Del, do be careful,”
“You're mussing me,”
He drew back at that and seemed
to take in the car and eve
she said.
“Is it a wecling or a funeral?” he |
asked,
“We've been lunching,” we ex-!
plained. Personally, I could sympa- |
thize with the slightly alarmed look |
on his face. I'd lots rather go around |
in golf clothes than in chiffon and |
gardenias. But Claire loves dressing
up and if I looked the way she did,
I would, too. |
“Hop in with me and we'll go to!
a hotel and get me settled,” he sug- |
gested. |
Wasn't that priceless? She looked
like something in porcelain and if!
she had piled in with him in that
u would have expected
her to break. Of course, she said no,
he must leave the car some place
and come with us, He did, with just
a suggestion of little-boy-aged-6
pout, but he recovered his good
spirits as we cruised along the
Drive. Claire explained that he was
to stay with her family.
“But Claire——" Del said and
be disagreeable the very first time
they saw each other. Most
would have been tickled to death
with Claire! It was perfect.
Father Kilbourne took Del under
his protecting arm from that mo-
He was simply splendid to
him, I saw them lunching downtown
soon afier, Mr. Kilbourne was lean-
back, cigar in hand, being a
little expansive, I could tell, about
the good things ahead for Del. You
Westbrook. And to be right there er in the day, telling me the wed-
| ding day was set.
The announcement of the date was
in the papers a few days later. I
think Claire probably decided the
best way for them both was to get
everything over as soon as e.
so they could settle down by them-
selves and be happy. I know she was
thinking of Del just as much as her-
could almost tell by his gestures self
that he was saying, “My boy, our
business needs fine, square young
men like you!”
For a young chap in a fair way
to be sitting pretty, Del was look-
irz rather harassed. Once I heard
him lift his voice and say “But Mr.
Kilbourne, I want to tell you—" He
was cut off firmly but politely with
a wave of the cigar.
I didn't see Claire for several
cays, although I called her up once
or twice. She was terribly busy
every time.
“I'm taking Del out to the club
today,’ she'd say, Or “Del hasn't
met the Alexanders yet and mother
and I are having them over.”
The lucky egg! Why he was get-
ting places and doing things that it
would have taken other boys simply
years to get and do. Not that the
Kilbournes move in the very highest
circles, but they are just as exclu-
sive. And they're up in the heavy
money, too.
Del telephoned one afternoon a
week or so later and asked if he
could see me. I was tickled to death,
not having had a glimpse of him for
several days, and icld him to rush
over.
He drove up in a shiny new road-
ster, dark green with nickel trim-
mings.
“Hi, fella,” I said, “Struck oil?”
He laughed. “I'm trying to figure
out whether it's oil—or just soft
soap.”
We sat down on our porch.
“Claire said she couldn't be seen
in Bouncing Bertha, the campus
chariot,” he told me. “And I said I'd
be eternally sizzled if I'd let a guy
named Horace barge me around. Mr.
Kilbourne heard us arguing and he
bought me this in a nice. paper
sack. I didn't want to take it, Lot,
honest, I didn’t, But he just there-
there-my-boy’'d me and—well, what
could I do?”
“You shouldn't do anything. It's a
grand car,” I said.
“Isn't it though?” he asked me.
His eyes lighted up. “A lotta fun
to drive, too. But I'd like it better
if I'd bought it myselt.”
I said he would buy plenty of
things himself when he started
working.
“You're thundering right I will,”
he . “But, say, Lou, this wor-
ries me. It's going to take barrels
of gold to give Claire as much as
she has now. I don't see how I ever
had the nerve to ask her to start
out poor. Why didn't some one tell
me she was rich?"
I asked him if he thought those
fur coats and snakeskin slippers and
imported evening gowns came from
the 5-and-10.
“Oh, I knew she always looked
wonderful,” he said, “but I never
realized how much it cost. You know,
she seems different down here. At
school, she was a beautiful girl.
Here, she's a grown woman with a
whole world of her own, Aw, Lou,
do you mind if I tell you how I feel
about ag?"
I didn't. But as it happened, he
didn't tell me very much. He seem-
ed always on the verge of making
some explosive declaration and then
he'd tighten his lips and look out at
the green car. He talked around and
around things but never reached a
point. I thought what a fortunate
man he was to have a girl like
Claire, a chance to work for Mr.
Kilbourne at what I imagined would
be good money and-—well, all the
things most people work ten or
twenty years for. But he didn't look
very happy.
He said things like this:
know,
married so soon, But Claire thinks
And: “Damn it, Lou, who do you
“You
think ought to be boss of a family? |
Or should there be a boss?”
And, finally: “Oh. Claire is so
wonderful, Lou. And beautiful! Did
You ever know a woman so beauti-
Rather ridiculous things, you
know. Not any sense. I told
him I thought I understood, although
I didn't altogether, but he liked
that.
“I believe you do,” he said and
looked at me a long time. “You're
swell, you know,” he said.
And somehow I liked that—just,
even after saying
“You're swell,”
how beautiful and wonderful Claire
was, I don’t think I was ever jealous
find it out the better.
Del went on
He told me he'd been looking for a
job and hadn't found anything that
offered even one-third the
that Mr. Kilbourne's did. And he'd’
almost decided to go back to Out-
lands, only that he couldn't bear to
int Claire.
“You really love Claire,” I said
seriously,
He frowned instead of agreeing as
promptly as I ted
“Yes, I think
crazy about her. I think she’s the
most fascinating, lovely creature in
sometimes I'd like
the world. And
to break her neck.”
I knew what, as a friend of
Claire's, I wanted to say. I said it,
“Do you want my best advice? Just
figure out to yourself that Claire is
worth an in the world and
that all this preliminary fuss is
something that has to be put up
with. And figure out also that this
job will make money and money's
what you need.”
“In other words,” he broke in, “do
exactly what Claire wants me to
3c} reap) on OPH. 1 The rét OF WY
e!”
He left. And IT hadn't mentioned
that Claire had telephoned me eafli-
I really didn't plan to get
¥ do,” he said. “I'm |
There was a gorgeous picture of
Claire with the story, a full-length
view of her standing by a window
hung in black velvet. She wore a
white satin evening gown and look-
ed like an angel. The story had
quite a lot in it about the charm-
ing and popular Miss Kilbourne and
all the things she'd done in town and
on the campus. At the foot of the
column it was mentioned that Mr.
Delbert James Long had also at-
tended the university.
Of course, for the next two or
three weeks every one in town was
giving Claire a whirl, There were
tea es and bridge-luncheons and
evening functions. And she seemed
to live on it; to look more and
more radiant all the time, instead of
a little bored or fatigued, as you
might have expected. And Del,
though I saw him less often, as so
many of the parties were the all-
women kind, looked more and more
strange. I couldn’ understand him
and it worried me.
I had been so fond of Del and
now he seemed to be like a different
man. He wore a set, humorless smile
when he was at a dinner or a dance,
and when I saw him on the street
he looked dazed and gueer. His eyes
were bloodshot most of the time, I
thought if he were taking to drink-
ing heavy, Claire ought to be told,
and yet I didn’t want to meddle.
As yet he hadn't gone to work
for Mr. Kilbourne. I asked Claire
about it and she confided to me that
he was drawing a salary, but that
she and her father thought it better
for him to wait until after their
honeymoon before actually keeping
office hours. It relieved me about his
drawing a salary. He probably didn't
feel so dependent any more.
Four days before the wedding
Claire had a Trousseau party just
for her most intimate friends, There
were eight or ten of us, with her
mother fluttering in the background.
Her things were simply gorgeous.
She had about twenty-five pajama
sets, including some mandarin out-
fits and a black velvet arrangement
that simply wilted you, it was so
divine. And lounging robes. And
piles of the most beautiful hand-
underthings you ever saw!
The girls were just leaving when
Del came. He looked a little strange,
but he was pleasant enough, and
said “Hello,” to every one, and even
let himself be teased by some of the
more coy guests, [Everyone but
Claire and Del and me went out and
I turned to tell Claire good night,
Del had gone over to her.
“Did you telephone that woman
today and tell her we wouldn't take
he house ?" he asked. “She says you
‘“Yes, I did,” she said sweetly,
lifting her long-fringed eyes to his.
“You see, darling, I couldn't live in
that place—sweet as it is. The
flowers are lovely and those old trees.
But it's too far from where things
are doing. So, after I thought it
over, I knew you wouldn't mind. I
called the other place where that
divine big apartment is and they said
we could have it if we decided to-
day. So I rushed down and made a
deposit.” She looked adorably con-
trite, ‘Oh, Del, I'm so if I've!
been too impulsive. But I liked it so
much. There's everything there and
it's near the club and a lot of the
girls. That other house, well, it
wasn't really modern, you know. A
breakfast nook instead of a room.
And an upstairs, And it's miles from
a soul I know.”
“1 the fact that I would
| be there wouldn't make it any more
attractive.” Del said that.
“But, darling, you wouldn't be
there during the day,” Claire said.
‘““And the fact that the apartment
is just twice as much didn't make
any difference, either?” he asked in
a queer voice.
Claire said she was tired, and
please, not to scold her, she'd had
such a lovely evening, “Let's talk
things over later,” she said.
“You've been saying that to me
for three months, Claire, he said.
“And I think the sometime later had
better be right now. You agreed
with me, or at least you let me
' think you did, that we were to have
a small wedding. And I understand
now Toure having eight bridesmaids.
Eight! And a lot of fuss before and |
after. I would have let that go. The
wedding is the girl's business, I'm
only the man that's getting married.
ot Claire: when le: raved t! But after the wedding, where we're
her. She was horn to have men mad |
about her and I wasn't. Some of us.
are like that and the quicker we
after a while, |
to live and what we're to do—well,
that's at least half mine!”
Claire looked nervously around to
see if her mother was in the offing,
and then she turned to me. I sup-
pose it was terrible of me, but some-
how I just couldn't leave, and I had
the feeling they didn't want me to;
that they didn't want to be alone
together, even then.
“Don't make a scene in front of
Lucia, please, Del,” Claire said.
“Let's don’t quarrel. You're just
tired.”
There had been rumblings before,
| but this was the first time he really
blew up,
“Damn it, I'm not tired!” He
simply roared at her. “Am I a man
or am I a paper doll you've cut out’
(of a ? Lucia must know
all about it or she's blind! I'm
going to settle things right now.
I'm going to have something to say
about what we do.”
Claire looked at me appealingly
and I rushed to her. I couldn't imag-
| ine a man turning such a brute all
‘of a sudden.
| “Del, for heaven's sake, |
| alone,” I begged him. “I don’t know
| what's come over you the last few |
| weeks, Claire has been so wonder-'
| fully happy and you seem like a dif- |
ferent man. ‘This ought to be the
most thrilling time of a girl's life.” |
“Oh, my God!" cried Del, and]
rushed toward t ‘por. He turned
for a moment ai his mouth was
twisted. “Claire,” he said, and you
could tell he was trying to keep
calm, “will you consider taking the
house and letting the apartment go
if I promise to try very, verv hard
to do everything I can to make you
happy there?”
14 Del,” she said, tears in her
ey-s, “don't ask me to, Del. Let's
take the apartment and then I'll do
anything you want me to.”
He went out,
Claire sobbed for a little while,
1 against me. And ther she
locked up with a shaky half smile.
“He'll come back,” she said. “I know
he will——"
I said good night and left. Out-
side the house I saw the dark-green
roadster run into the driveway. I
tiptoed over and popped my head in-
side, but it was empty. I thought
perhaps he had gone to his room at
the Kilbourne’'s' by the side entrance,
but there was no light in his win-
dow, I got in my own little car and
drove toward home.
“Claire has the most marvelous
self-control,” I told myself, “If any
one had roared and shouted at you
that way, Lucia Franklin, you would
have started throwing things. Oh,
I do hope they'll be happy.”
Just then I saw a little way down
the boulevard a big, hulking figure
striding along, shoulders hunched
over, the pale night lights shining
on his hatless head.
It was Del. I drove slowly, want-
ing to stop, and yet feeling that per-
haps he would rather be alone, I
didn't know what I could have said
to him, either.
That night I didn't sleep very
well. I tried to think about Claire
and how sorry I was for her, having
to marry a man that could turn in-
to such a tyrant for so little a rea-
son. But I thought about Del in-
stead.
Well, of course, you know the rest.
Only perhaps you didn't know that
I saw him early the next morning.
I think I must have been hoping
that I might because I went down-
town before 9 and drove around the
streets in an absurd way, Finally |
I remembered my appointment with
the dressmaker and parked the car.
Just as I was getting out, I saw!
Del bumping along in Bouncing
Bertha, that horrible old car of his.
He looked wilder than ever, one el-
bow slouched over the sagging door,
his dark hair standing on end. He
hadn't shaved and his clothes look-
ed as though he'd slept in them.
When he saw me he stopped his
car alongside mine.
“Hello,” I said,
over his bad humor.
“Goodby,” he said. “You might
tell Claire you saw me, though I
wrote her a note, I wanted to tell
her good-by but I was afraid if I
saw her, she'd cry, and then I would
ve weakened again. You remember
I said not long ago that she was
worth anything in the world? Well,
I found out she wasn't. There are
some things''-—and this he said with
a gesture of his long arm—"“no wo-
man on God's earth is worth!”
He looked at me a long moment
or so, as though he wanted to say
something else, but he just said:
“So long Lou,” and stepped on the
starter. The car, with a sigh and a
jerk and a quiver, rolled forward,
picking up sped as it moved down
the street. I stood on the curb, gaz-
ing after him, simply numbed.
What surprised me most of all
was the look I'd seen on Del's face.
He was radiant. There were dark
circles under his eyes and he luok-
ed as though he hadn't eaten or
slept for weeks, but—well, he look-
ed like a man that has just escaped
death and found out how wonderful
it is to be alive. He looked glori-
ously happy; as though he wanted
to yell and sing!
Claire was wonderful about it. She
cried in my arms a little. but she
was awfully brave, My neart ached
for her. And now, she's married, I
hear. I don't know much about the
man except that he was lucky to
get such a wonderful girl.
That's all, really. Cluire was ht |
about one detail, wasn't she?
did come back, only it was nearly
a year later.
Oh, my dear, you mustn't leave
So soon. You don't know how
it is to have some one from West-
brook here in Outlands. Besides, Del
will be home in just a few minutes
and I know he'll want to see you.—
By Mary Stanley.
trusting he was
WORRY—THE DRIVER'S BANE
Mental lapses are a far more im-
portant cause of automobile acci-
dents than is commonly believed.
While the reports of accidents may
give physical causes, such as reck-
less driving, wrong side of the road,
cutting in, etc.,, those may only be
symptoms of a disturbed mental
state, asserts Dr. H. J. Stack of the
National Bureau of Casualty and
Surety Underwriters, who says:
“Extreme hurry or worry caus-
ing intense preoccupation, fatigue,
elation or excitement, or slowed
| down reaction as a result of the in- |
dulgence in alcohol or other nar-'
cotics may be behind an accident,
Many of these mental conditions are
within our control.” He suggests the
following precautions as preventa-.
tives:
1. Take a short rest or let some-
one else drive the car when you
have been driving for a long period
at night.
2. Be especially alert when hurry-
ing to work so that you can keep
your mind on your driving.
3. The best place for the confirm-
ed back-seat driver is at home, i
4. Don't day dream driving in a
car or crossing the street.
5. Control your temper. If the
| traffic cop calls you down, probably |
let her you
deserve it.
6. If you have a superiority com- |
plex, forget it when you get behind |
the wheel, i
7. Don't become a speed maniac.
This mental disorder is serious and
contagious. A serious accident seems pa
to be the only cure for its victims
‘work women must do.
| of
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN
DAILY THOUGHT
Lord let me see the hidden beauty
In the commonplace;
And let me catch the melody
Above the day's turmoil;
Give me a vision of the love
Behind the sin-scarred face,
And let me know the blessedness
Of dull, soul-testing toil.
Paris.~The small town woman
who wants to be smart will spell her
summer chic with color.
Scores of gay little frocks, scarfs,
jackets and caps have been produced
by designers to brighten suburban
wardrobes,
Polka-dotted silks, smart flowered
prints, stripes and plaids are used
for both cestumes and accessories
for the woman who lives outside the
urban crush,
A simple dark wool coat should be
the basis of her wardrobe, designers
say, since with one frock it is suit-
able for more occasions than a tail-
ored suit.
It may be navy blue, brown, dark
gray or black, but the frock which
goes with it should be gay.
“Prints” is Paris’ favorite advice
for an all around Main St. frock. A
dark blue foulard spattered with
jagged dots of crimson, green and
beige may be worn with a dark blue
coat, a red chip straw hat and a red
bag, and a brown and green shadow
plaid frock may accompany a plain
brown coat.
Many of these little print frocks
have elbow length sleeves so that
they are ready for wear at both
bridges and teas.
Little frocks and suits of wash-
able silk such as shantung and crepe
Olympic are Paris’ newest offering
to the smart suburbanite for less
formal wear.
Many of them are brightened by
accessory sets of hat, scarf and bag
in polka-dotted silk or linen.
A beige shantung suit has a sail-
or hat and scarf of green and beige
polka-dotted silk, while a pale blue
suit is touched up with accessories
of navy blue and white striped linen,
For days at home, porch parties
and equally informal affairs cottons
are everywhere. Printed muslins,
gay ginghams and even upholstery
chintzes are fashioned into nonchal-
ant short-sleeved frocks often com-
bined with contrasting color.
By Mrs. Walter Ferguson
—Opposition to the parisitic wo-
man in our civilization is growing
more marked.
Yet that opposition can hardly be
consistent so long as men reserve
to themselves the right to select the
And this
trend is pronounced in most utter-
ances of the average man. He wants
woman to work but he wants her to
work only at certain tasks which he
will specify.
The whole hullabaloo is an insidi-
ous movement to get women back
into the kitchen. And it is now be-
ing urged in the name of patriotism.
Yet those who shout for this ap-
parently fail to realize that there
are not half enough kitchens to hold
the women and far too little domes-
tic labor to keep all the women busy
even for an hour a day,
Moreover we are told that women
buy nearly all the manufactured
luxuries, or that they are bought at
our instigation, and that prosperity
depends upon a large selling volume.
How then could away wo-
men's jobs actually help?
The whole thing is a muddle.
Everybody knows that. But let us
at least try to be consistent and
reasonable when we plan for eco-
nomic stability.
In nie first place, two moves by
men and women are necessary. The
must take every child out of fac y
mill and field and substitute adult
labor at a decent wage. They must
give to every woman the same pay
for the same work that men receive.
This is the sensible place to begin
in our reconstruction program. Then
our educational efforts should be
altered,
We spend too much money upon
those who cannot take and do not
really desire a cultural education.
Boys and girls should be taught to
work with their hands as well as
their heads, especially if their heads
are not so well stuffed with gray
matter.
Domestic labor must be liftea to
that dignified status where it has
always belo . The housewife must
be given her rightful share of fam-
| ily income, not because her husband
| ves her, but because she has earn-
i it.
We should advertise the home in-
stead of the cabaret as the center
of true happiness. Family life must
be reinstated as a civi force
and marriage elevated to an intelli-
gent rather than moving picture af-
fair. To get back to sanity, we'll all
| have to co-operate.
—Jelly tumblers with tight-fitting
covers are most useful articles for
' the picnic basket. They serve as but-
ter crocks, sugar bowls, gelatine
' pudding molds and receptacles for
meat or vegetable salads and devil-
ed eggs. Plenty of oiled paper is
essential, and one must always re-
member to separate articles with
strong odors and tastes—such as
pickles, bananas, coffee or spiced
things.
’
Cold Tomato Soup.—4 cups toma-
toes, 3 cucumbers, 2 tablespoons
| sugar, 3 teaspoons salt, 12 teaspoon
pepper, 2 cloves or garlic.
Slice but do not peel two cucum-
| bers. Cook all ingredients slowly in
jour cups of water for 30 minutes,
| strain and cool. Peel and slice third
cucumber and soak in vinegar. Serve
these thin slices on the icy cold
soup. This amount is sufficient for
six.
Rhubarb Conserve~Chop three
pounds of rhubarb and one-half each
figs and dates. Combine these
ingredients and mix with three
unds of sugar. Simmer until
thick, stirring often.