TR A Romance of the Commonplace By Frances Parkinson Keyes WNU Service Copyright by Francs Parkinson Keyes SER SYNOPSIS through Vermont, Philip Starr, young Boston architect, meets, In unconventional fashion, Blanche Manning, girl of seventeen, with whom he is Immediately enamored. In con- versation, he learns something of her family history. It being a long distance to Burlington, Starr's destination, Blanche suggests, the village of Ham. stead not boasting a hotel, that he be- come, for the night, a guest of her cousin, Mary Manning, Mary receives Philip with true Vermont hospitality, and he makes the acquaintance of her ousin Paul, recognized as her flance, starr fir Mary is acquainted with tiale Hamlin, noted Boston architect, in whose office Philip is employed. He informs her of his desire to *win Blanche for his wife. She is thetic, and tells him o superstition concerning of the Manning family. inclined to be dis Mary's true worth for his undue “cor received by Paul, anc to have misgivings as of the alliance, Motoring heg $ he girl n wisdom to the CHAPTER IV—Continued wines She faced this fact resolutely. Paul did not love her as much as she loved him, Why—why? She almost cried it aloud. He was constantly failing her, not only by his whole idle, selfish life, but by follies such as he had committed the night before, Follles! There is little compromise of lan- guage in the speech of the average New Englander; he does not, as one writer has wittily put it, call a spade a silver trowel. The real name for such follies was sin, and Mary sald it, even though she flinched In doing so. Sin! and how had she ever failed him —Or anyone else— in thought or word or deed? Mary could not help knowing that there were other men in the village who had been attracted to her, who would have been glad to make it plain that they were more than attracted, if she hadn't made it plain that no one in the world mattered to her except Paul. There was Thomas Gray, for instance, slow and plodding, but hard. working, kind and wholesome. And then—then there had been Gale Ham- lin, the great architect, whose name Philip pronounced with an awe amount- ing almost to veneration. She had never told her family much about Hannah Adams’ uncle. Her casual remarks about him had included little mention of his frequent calls at the Adams' house when she visited there, none at all of that last call, paid at the school when the news of her mother's death had come, . The sharp note of a phoebe bird, singing beside her, brought Mary to the consciousness that she must have been dreaming a long time, and sent her hurrying down the hill, still unde- cided what she ought to do, but Im- measurably, if vagpely, comforted and refreshed. teaching the house, she slipped out of her wet garments, took a hot bath, dressed again in crisp, clean clothes, and began, a little breathlessly, to get dinner, She need not have hurried, everyone else was late, but as she had no means of knowing that they would be, she was both tired and ruffled when, at half-past she had a meal ready to serve which would have done credit to an older and more ex- perienced cook. Violet was the first to appear, and Vielet was “nervous” Mary knew It the instant she looked at her, “Paul isn't coming to dinner,” she sald tartly, “You hurt his feelings very much this morning. [I can't think Low you can act so, especially when the poor boy Is Ill. I should have asked nothing better than to sit be- side him the whole morning, bathing his poor aching head, If I'd only been equal to It. But then, of course, there's no love as devoted and self- sacrificing as a mother’s! Though I felt the same way towards Martin, 1 didn’t feel towards him at all the way you do to Paul. I couldn't have” *No, I don't believe you could,” sald Mary, trying to control the grief and anger that seemed to be struggling for mastery In her voice. “I'm sorry he won't come—I'll take off his plate. Won't you come Into the parlor now and meet Mr. Starr?” While this meeting was taking place, very satisfactorily to both persons concerned in It, Seth Manning was sit- ting patiently In the family carryall outside the village church, waiting for his cousin, Jane, and his small son, Moses, to come out of Sunday school. Miss Manning, In common with her neighbors, saw nothing Irreverent in using aisles and porch for a little In- formal visiting after the services were over. And as just at this time Chil dren's Sunday was looming large ahead of them, there was a good deal to consider. “I'm just as nervous as I kin be about them new-fangled exercises Mis’ Weston has chosen,” Mrs. Elliott was confiding to Miss Manning. “Of course, seein’ she’s chairman of the committee on entertainment, none of the rest of us could say a word, but it looks to me as If she'd bit off more’'n she ean chew, If Sylvia Gray was so's she could be around, I shouldn't worry none, but Land! have you heard? Sylvia's expectin' again, and she’s real poorly. She ain't strong enough to have children so fast, I went and told her so the other day and what do you think she sald? That she was real pleased, that she only hoped It would one pr. o be twins, twin girls, so she'd have two of 'em, right off, to go with the two boys! She does beat everything!” When at last the assembled family, with the exception of Paul, sat down to a repast by this time slightly over done, Seth was hampered by the de sire to avoid trouble and to please everyone all the time. Violet had come to him just before they sat down, and urged him to omit asking a bless ing, for fear that Mr. Starr would think they were Old-fashioned. He had agreed with her. But now he quailed before Jane's stern eye. “For-what-we-are-ahout - to - receive make-us-duly-thankful,” he gulped, all in one breath, and was Immediately conscious that now he had offended both his cousins, one by asking the blessing at all, and the other by his manner of doing It, “Lemme give you some chicken, Mr, Starr,” he sald hastily, “which do you favor, light or dark?” Before Philip could answer, Cousin Jane also asked a question, “1 suppose you're not a church mem ber?" she sald with dark conviction, Philip “Oh, yes” “My father was a Congregational min ister 1 hadn't told you that had I? Dark, please, Mr. Man ning." “A Congregational minister! ex- claimed Cousin Jane In amazement, while the others sat staring at him in speechless relief at his tact In intro- smiled. he said. before, oy The Slow Drive Home Was Perme. ated With Magic, ducing so exemplary a relative Into their ruffled midst. “Why, 1 under. stood Mary to say that one of your grandfathers " “—-Was an [Irish Immigrant. Yes, he was—North of Ireland Protestant, Plumber, after he got to this country. Made lots of money when he got start ed to plumb--—Jjust hit the first wave in the fashion for bathrooms. He only had one child, and there was plenty of money to let him travel and study and prepare for the ministry which was what he wanted to do— those queer freaks of heredity come sometimes, you know, He was min- ister for years of one of the largest Congregational churches in Massa- chusetts—until he died, In fact. He he was an awfully good sort for a fel My mother She was an And I'm another came from Brookline, other only child. ended Philip, less cheerfully, “Do you mean to say,” asked Blanche, with unconcesled envy, “that You haven't a cousin In the world?” “Not one. Nor parents nor grand parents. It isn't much fun” “Blanche wouldn't agree with you” sald Cousin Jane. But her mind was still too busy with Philip's unexpected and gratifying disclosures to dwell long on the shortcomings of Blanche, “How come you not to go to church this ‘morning, then?” “Extenuating circumstances,” an- swered Philip promptly, glancing at Blanche, Cousin Jane's next remark was In- terrupted by a terrific clattering and banging in ‘the room above them, Mary arose hastily, In the act of sery- ing stewed tomatoes, “That's only Algy.,” she said by way of explanation to Philip, “waking up from his nap. I'l go and dress him and bring him down.” When Algy, still pink and warm with sleep, was settled In his high chair, the Ice cream was being served, and the fresh, feathery sponge cake passed about. Both were delliciots. There was a comfortable silence as everyone began to eat with renewed appreciation of Mary's talents as a cook. CHAPTER V On Monday morning It was still raining-—raining much too hard to at. tempt the unknown roads to Burling. ton. There was, Blanche added, to be one of Hamstead's Infrequent: dances in the town hall that evening, It was stupid for her tagging along with Paul and Mary, even when they were on good terms, and anyone could see that Paul was having one of his grouches. (Paul's “grouches” corresponded to his mother's "nerves.”) And none of the boys in the village seemed to realize that she was old enough to be asked to go to parties by herself now. , . . “Well, thank the Lord for that.” sald Philip plously. “I'll stay, of course” In the afternoon it cleared, and he went to Violet, hesitating a little, and asked If he might Invite Blanche to go for a little ride with him, “Why, of course,” she sald delighted. - ly. “Take one of the roads out to West Hamstead. They're very pretty and quiet, I know our fine Vermont alr is golng to do you lots of good. You look better already than when you came." awfully for letting me take Blanche, I'll take good care of her.” The route which Violet had suggest. ed was one which could easily be cov- ered in two hours, with the old family horse, but no one seemed to think it worth a comment when Philip Blanche, leaving the house a little be- fore three, reappeared late for a six o'clock supper. They had come to a little lake—Sllver pond, Manche called it—and found an old water- logged rowboat lying neglected beside it. They bailed out the water in it with a tin can, found providentially near at hand, They they rowed about the lake for a time, and finally climbed a hill back of It, where they sat and admired the view, Philip had laughing, end on, all the afternoon, from sheer joy, and when Blanche told of her little stories, with perfeet artlessness, he laughed more than ever, “It here,” he said. a been ofl one seems so absolutely peacetul “Let's not hurry away.” “Well, we needn't, Blanche, “if it “Oh yes, of course,” replied for the dance” Will you give wasn't the dance other one?” “l think that's rather many, haps, don't you? asked BI! flushing a little “O4, no, not at dream of asking done” “Now you're laughing at me again!” Had any man, Philip wondered, ever found a terly delicious? It was difficult for him to refrain from taking her into his arms then and there: and though somehow he managed to steel himself against doing this, he reached out for the little hand that lay lightly on the extremely narrow strip of wood that separated him from Blanche, and locked his hard, lean fingers with her soft pink ones. Nothing that he had ever experienced In his life had awak- ened in him such a feeling of ecstasy. What tremendous-—what undeserved luck had been with him when he de cided to take that swim! "I am so glad you agree with about the dances,” he sald, at last, Ing reluctantly. “But I didn't can you ™ Philip ! forget to call him Mr never known before ful name Philip was, The slow drive home was permeated with magic. Without knowing when or how he had begun to do so, Philip found that he was holding both Blanche's hands; he felt her golden head sink gently on his shoulder and rest there quiescent. The deepening dusk, enfolding them, seemed pregnant with the promise of still closer companionship, of more ar- dent embraces. Bat the prelude fo these was perfect and complete In itself, Neither the return to the farm, nor the family supper, nor the departure for the party to which Blanche had looked forward to eagerly, dispelled Philip's illusion of enchantment. Of course he got his dances the alternate ones he Mary. All on the Lady Blanche farm were sorry when Phillp sald good-by bright me every per anche, wouldn't It isn't any I for less, me ris- agree! Philip, how She had already begun to Starr. He had what a wonder danced with to whom he had suggested a short walk through the orchard, lifted brimming eyes to his. He stooped and L kissed the tears away from her lashes Then he laid his cheek against hers, “This isn't really good-by, ly, “sweetheart!” Violet's farewell was companied by tears, as well little pats and cooing sounds. as by Mary route clearly marked In red pencil, on top of his suitcase, The day after his departure, the station agent called up Violet’ to tell to her, and marked perishable, express pald, waiting there. And, when it was promptly brought home by Seth and opened with some excitement, it was found to contain four five-pound boxes of candy, all exactly alike, but elaborately tied up with different col- ored ribbons, And under each how of ribbon was slipped a card which read, “With kindest regards, and many thanks for my wonderful visit, from Philip Starr.” AS Jane Manning had never had a suitor, this was the first box of candy that had ever been given to her. She tried to conceal her pleased surprise as long as she was with the others Then she carried the box home, very carefully, and put it on her bedside table, near her Bible. It did not occur to her to open it. She drew up her rocker, and sat for a long time looking at it “No one but him would ever have re. membered me,” she sald aloud, “at all, let alone sendin’ me candy, at my age, and all tied up with red ribbon! , . . That nice boy!" she ended abruptly, and blew her nose hard The excitement aroused by the boxes of eandy and the pleasant “bread-and- beer” letters which followed In their wake had hardly subsided when some thing even more thrilling happened, A beautiful limousine, beside which Philip's little runabout could no more have stood comparison than eould Cinderelin’'s pumpkin with the fairy conch Into which it was turned, driven by a slim young chauffeur, very smart in a uniform to mateh the ear's up holstery, drew up In front of Seth Manning's door, and a tall, distin guished-looking man of early middle age got out and asked for Mary. (TO BE CONTINUED.) V HATEVER you do, be colorful Evidently this is the message which fashion alms to convey for the coming months, It's like seeing things through multi-colored glasses to look at the gay spring clothes which are out on style parade. No kaleldoscope could do better than designers of this day and age are doing In this matter of producing unexpected yet withal star. tlingly beautiful color effects You get the the new which idea first of all from tallored suits, so many combine plaids, checks stripes with bright monotones. For instance, an ensemble Is apt to be worked out with a Tartan plaid wool in green, vivid blue and orange com bining with a plain blue diagonal weave. Other equally as intriguing contrasts could be recited by the hun dreds, of or The new giddily striped and plalded taffetns, Ukewise scarf-prints, sre working wonders in the way of con tributing vital color to street clothes it it isn’t a glant-sized bow of plaid taffeta tied at the throat then, per. chance, the blouse Is of gay taffeta with the coat lining saying ditto or possibly all three will flaunt their col- orfalvscheme before your.eyes. Then there are the new smart tweed travel suits of the swagger variety which take on & refreshing thisseason's aspect because of their alliance with fancy checks. Sometimes it is the skirt which is of the check. Then again It is the jacket or cape which pose checks over the tweed skirt, As to skirt and sweater schemes of color. When It frocks of wearable type, costume Is worked out or bl-color ways. most the color problems are solved. of some such. The conveys the idea. almost outrivalling for spring. done In navy and white, Navy with white is black with the model pictured to the right, mania of color which session of the fashionable world, At velvet gown will which bright-colored haps a white red velvet straps a huge bow at the back. Paton cre ates an enchanting formal which In volves a tricolor of pale lime green dark olive and a touch of ripe rasp berry. Even worked are better than one. have vivid develop Inte the newest i and tri-color schemes are running ram pant, gether in the making of the hat, but the season's smartest trimmings. © 191% Western Newspaper Union, JACKET OF FELT By UCHERIE NICHOLAS EN NE at A St it seems that Alpine playgrounds are lending inspiration for present-day fashions. You can detect In the smart about-town costume here pictured the influence of the brief little double breasted walst-depth Jackets which Tyrolean men wear when mountain climbing. Then too the jaunty beret with its perky tuft of colorful felt at its top crown looks as If the orig. inal of its kind may have been worn by some gay mountaineer, in the ple turesque Alps. This beret and sleeve less jacket are of pastel blue felt, worn with a tallor-finished knitted frock. ! ©. 1533. Western Newspaper Unlon. Wide Shoulders Frocks, conts and suits launched by Maggie Rout show widened accented shivulders tapering to a slender normal whist with such broadening effects as tiny pockets at the hip line, Hats Low in Back Coming down are hats In the back. says Orry Kelly, Hollywood designer, who also looks for deeper crowns In the near future. RETURN OF FRINGE When fringe is “out,” much out, but when it with the curl. At the moment, (ringe is just different enough to set one a flutter over the idea of wearing it, par fringed frock. They do say that their way back, and while there is no law that sayr shawls must be fringed, so many of them are that, when one gets to dreaming about those castles in Spain, one is bound to conjure up fringed shawls as well as fringed dresses. Yet the arrangement of the little shaw!—or would you call it a dashing, an adjective one usually as sociates with anything of Spanish In. spirntion. These shoulder shawls are for a Spanish woman when she Is hot carrying a rose in her teeth or be ing fascinating according to the old Spanish custom. But when she tnkes off that enpe, she gets right back into character! Stripes and Checks Due for Run of Popularity It'll be pretty difficult for you to dodge the responsibility of getting checks this spring (Ahy but rubber) and alse stripes as the scason goes along. While we could give you bush. els of statistics covering the names of ultrachic women who are buying checks and stripes, we won't. In hy manity’'s name, burden you. Let It suffice that Lucile Paray in her mid: season collection in Paris emphatical ly showed her approval, and that Ju. piter in heaven is going through Vir go, which means stripes and checks will be good until September of next year, at least, Fabrics With Cire Finish Have Brightest Prospects Fabrics are still dull, so that the ocensional appearance of lustrous ma. terinls for spring wear attract more attention than In other seasons. Just now It is fabrics with cire finish which appear to have hright nerasnects for the immediate future, The cire idea is not altogether new, of course, Cire satins were used in considerable quantity inst simmer for dress trimmings and Hitle jackets and reappeared In evening gowns and for mal afternoon wear last fall ARABS LIBERAL IN IDEAS OF DIVORCE In the Oara mountaios of south- ern Arabia divorce is supremely easy for the man, as throughout all Ara- bla. He has only to tire of his wife and say so in the usual formula and she must go home to her father, with a parting gift of half a cow. Divorce by the woman Is also easy, though financially more onerous, for she must return to him half the marriage price, which may amount to ten cows, Foth are immediately free to marry ggain, Divorce not require a qadhi's sanction, marriage and divorcees are frequent. A man may by religious law have four wives at any one time, but the general rule Is one, or at If a woman has borne her children, he ust ce her, but inevitably a for him to a gift does wo most two. i% unw 2 to divor jiire pos wifo wile ie i i “And did lap (wedding price) back? “More, I gave six cows for her, and demanded and got eight voree,” He laughed “Wallahi! 1 was a I, for she married Bir Zaid and From “Arabia you claim Duis for her di- mas ma How 0 train BABY'S BOWELS Babies, bottle-fed or breast-fed, with any tendency to be constipated, would thrive if they received daily half a teaspoonful of this old family doctor's prescription for the bowels. That is one sure way to train tiny bowels to healthy regularity. To avoid the fretfulness, wvomiti crying, failure to gain, and other i of constipated babies. Dr. Caldwell's Syrup Pepsin is good for any baby. For this, you have the word of a famous doclor. Forty- seven years of practice taught him pt what babies need to keep. their ittle bowels active, regular; k little bodies plump and healthy. For Dr. Caldwell specialized in the treat ment of women and little ones. He attended over 3500 births without loss of one mother or baby. De. W. B. Carowerr's SYRUP PEPSIN A Doctors Family Laxative iserable with Backache? = Tt May Warn of Kidney or A nt backache, with bladder irregularities and a tired, nervour, depressed feeling may warn of some dis- dition. U A here rely SETS EVETYyW on Doan’s Pills. Praised for more than 50 years by oy
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