LADY BLANCHE FARM A Romance of the Commonplace by Frances Parkinson Keyes WNU Service Copyright by Frances Parkinson Keyes CHAPTER XII—Continued one lan Mrs. Elllott had seen Mrs. Gray watching her slow approach through the deep snow from the kitchen win. dows, and had waved a greeting. Now, as she mounted the porch, she shook her umbrellas and stamped the snow from her overshoes, “No, | ain't a bit wet,” she sald, returning Mrs. Gray's hearty kiss, “I'm dressed real warm, If we're goin’ to set in the kitchen, | guess | won't lay off my overshoes. [If | keep 'em on my feet, it'll take ‘em off my mind” This point being satisfactorily set tied, the two ladies sat down In rock- ers beside the stove and started work on their sleeveless sweaters. Mrs Elliott, as usual, scarcely stopping for breath bhefare she began her recital of the recent news of the neighbor. hood. “Have you heard that old Mis’ Hun- ter, up to White Water is married agnin? Mr. Taylor tried to reason with her, seein’ he's buried four of her husbands already, but she sald, as long as the Lord took 'em, she would. Shockin’, ain't it?—How's the baby? | shouldn't have thought that Austin could have borne to go off and leave that little heipless creature, but it seems to be thrivin', don't it? 1 don’t g'pose you have the least notion he'd want to marry again, not for a while, anyway. Yes, |] knew he was real fond of Sylvia, but men are hu man, Writes you real regular, does he? And Thomas, too? I'm always real pleased to hear about your boys, but 1 declare | steer clear of Violet Mannin' these days. You know how set she was against Paul goin’ to war, But now she's got the biggest service flag in town and ‘we are 100 per cent subscribed’ on her Liberty loan card. I bet all she bought was $30 bonds, don't you? Be that as It may, morn. in’, noon and night she don’t open her head except to talk about ‘her hero. Goes around with a letter of Paul's in her hand, and" “Does he write her regular?” “Seems to. | can't make out that he's ben in any great danger yet, and I've questioned her close. Enjoyin' himself considerable, | should say. Them Mannin' children always just itched and hankered to get out of Hamstead and | shouldn't be a mite surprised If that itchin’' and hankerin' didn’t have somethin’ to do with Paul's ‘patriotism’ and Blanche’'s ‘romance.’ And that brings me to my main piece of npews—Philip Starr's number's been called and he's goin' to Devens this week. Blanche's comin’ home for the present and | hear she's mad clear through” “Oh, the poor child!” “Poor child nothin’. 1 don't deny Blanche Is pretty and pleasant, but there ain't nothin very deep about her, | bet she's lookin’ forward to comin’ here with lots of good-lookin’ clothes and new ideas and puttin’ on airs with her old neighbors. Mary's got her faults, but I'll say this for her, she ain't near so high and mighty a8 the rest of the family. Well, | must start along home. Clearin’, ain't it? Well, this'll make nice sleighin’ and that's one thing to be thankful for. It's lucky we got a few comforts left.” Philip had longed to volunteer in the first days of the war and Blanche had been so bitterly opposed to it that he had given in to her wishes, trying not to let her see the bitter spiritual struggle and loss of self-esteem which it had cost him to do this. But when the draft came, there could be no question of evasion or hesitation. His little Income would keep her com fortable, and there was no child This, Blanche knew, had been a source of disappointment and grief to Philip while she had secretly rejoiced at “not being tied down right away.” Now the fact that a baby might have kept him at home made her résentful that she did not have one, It was out of the question for her to stay on in the little Brookline apart. ment alone, and there was nothing for her to do but to return, rebelliously, to Hamstead. Philip, with never-fail ing understanding and gentleness, saw how hard it was for her to do this, and insisting that it should hereafter be called “Carte Blanche” to perpetu- ate his joke, urged her again to amuse herself by having the little law office renovated to suit the plans which he had made so long before, This time, the suggestion was a godsend. Blanche became genuinely interested and worked harder and more happily than she ever had done before in order to have the tiny home in perfect order for his first furlough, There was a merry little housewarming, When Philip appeared, wearing his sergeant's uniform, for all Hamstead wanted to see him, But after the last guest had de parted, he lighted a fire in the wide, shallow fireplace of the big, soft-col ored bedroom, and unfastened Blanche's party dress by candlelight as they stood before it. It had grown very cold outside, ard the many-paned windows were frosting over with dell cate shapes. The man, looking towards them from the fire, suddenly shivered a little. They were so icy and spark. ling, reflecting the frozen moonlight out there, that there was something of almost unearthly loveliness about them, something ghostly “Blanche,” he sald abruptly, “when you fixed up Carte Blanche, what did you do with those old law books that were here?” Blanche was standing before the mirror, combing her hair, She did not even turn, “They were 80 musty and shabby and dry-looking, I burned them up. Why, did you want them?" “No, Did you burn them all?” “Yo “Read any of them first?" “No. 1 could tell by the looks that they were dull. Not what you and I wanted in oyr lovely home.” She walked across the room to him, her golden hair falling over her shoul. ders, her soft white dressing-gown flowing from her bare neck and arms in an unbroken line to the floor. De liberately, she blew out the flickering candles, one after the other, and, in the dim firelight, put her arms around his neck. “It is pered. Philip bent over something in her manner that had never been there before. Was she, too, feeling the mystery and power of the night? Had these last weeks of separation been teaching her, too— teaching her the lessons that for a time, it seemed as If he, for all his love, had failed to make clear to her? Was the dread which had been slowly growing through the spring and sum- mer that his white star was to prove only a willo'-the-wisp, to be taken from him after all? “Yes, sweetheart, beautiful,” he an- swered. “But | want you to know a story that was in one of those books you burned, just the same, If you don't already. 1 ought to have spoken of it to you before" As quietly as he could, he told her first of his reading of the legend and then of his talk with Mary about It afterwards, © “1 can’t pretend to explain It. But it seems to me the first Blanche didn’t want to hurt any person, espe- cially—that it Isn't a curse in that sense—but to teach her descendants, if she could, what a terrible thing it Is to be selfish, Most of all, the selfish ness that calls itself love. Occasion. ally mothers feel that kind of love for their sons, or children for their par ents. or husbands for their wives" “You mean that is the kind that Colonel Moses felt for the countess” said Blanche slowly, “and-—-and (t's been so, straight through the family. That's the way mother cares for Maul, That's the way—that's the way | cared for you—once. But, oh, [| don't any more!” “That isn't the way [I've cared for you,” said Philip, “I'm not very strong, and I'm not very good. 1 don't think that for a minute. But | do love you with all my heart and soul (hit e— that makes more difference than any- thing else, | believe. That curse Is never going beyond this generation, and you must tell me tonight, that you're glad-1 ought to have gone to war when | first knew it was the right thing for me to do. We can't help that now. But you've got to say you're glad I'm going now" His arms tightened around her, his lips, meeting hers, lay for a long time against them, “If only we had a son" “Whenever | think of Lady Blanche farm,” he went on, after a long silence, “lI think of you and the brook-—its freshness and fragrance and purity, It's shallow in places, it rushes into little falls, but where I found you, it widens to a deep pool, clear as crystal, a haven of refreshment and delight and-—holiness. That's what you seem to me tonight—do you understand? Oh, my darling" lovely, Isn't it?" she whis- her. There was CHAPTER XIII And so the first winter of the war came to Hamstead. The mall that brought letters from Jaqueline, nurs ing in a convalescents’ home in Brit tany ; from David, operating in a fleld hospital directly behind the firing. lines: from Austin, driving his am bulance over shell-shot roads; from Paul, “somewhere in France" from Jack and Thomas and Philip at Camp Devens—all as yet, unharmed and well, There was a ball, and a banquet, and “comfort kits” for all the boys, There was the preparation of Christ. mas packages. There was the careful searching of the newspapers for ac counts of the unsatisfactory conditions existing at Camp Devens. , . . Then, suddenly, the first blow fell, A telegram came for Blanche, And Sol Daniels, instead of tele phoning it up to the house, as he had telephoned so many times, wrote it down slowly with his stubby pencil. and locking up the station, walked down the road through the deep snow with it In his pocket, blowing his nose hard on his red bandana handkerchief as he went along, To his Intense relief, it was Mary. who was with her cousin a good deal in those days, who answered the knocker at Carte Blanche. Sol hand. ed the grimy paper to her without a word as she opened the door, and cleared his throat, “For Blanche?” asked Mary In a startled voice, “Yes—it's a doggone shame. You a better open It first, and then tell her what's In it.” “No--1 want it myself, please.” Mary and Sol turned quickly. Blanche was standing on the tiny winding staircase, holding out her hand. She, too, had heard the knocker, “I've been-—been expecting it ever since Philip was home-for his fur lough, Take Sol In where it's warm, Mary, and give him some coffea, [It it yourself “I'd a-rather ben a-brung it.” “I know—-please.” She opened It slowly, almost care- fully. It was from one of the doc- tors, and it was rather long. Philip had been stricken, very suddenly, with pneumonia. The entire Illness had been a matter of only thirty-six hours, The doctor was obliged, with the deep- est regret, to inform her if she would telegraph her wishes, they sofar as possible— The yellow hand. For a moment she shut eyes, swaying, and Mary towards her hut she put out her hand as if to keep her back. Not ment; she wanted to meet ft Then she came slowly down the stairs, and going to the window where the service, flag hung, she took It and stood for a long time with it In her arms, her lips quivering. At last she gathered It up, and crossing the room with it, she hung it, as If it had been an emblem of victory, over the portrait of the little French countess, friend. “I'l have a new with a gold star, In the window,” she said quietly, “but that one belongs there, Can you have the express stopped at Ham stead for me, Sol?7—You'll go with me, Mary, of course? Please tell mother and Cousin Jane. I'd tlke to be alone a little while; 1 think— But I'll be ready to start In an hour™ There was- no time to waste In “breaking the news gently.” Mary found the two older women together and, without a single unnecessary word, told them what had happened Violet, horribly stunned and shocked, broke Into angry and rebellious grief which prostrated her completely, But when Jane bad done all she could te relieve her and the frailer woman had recovered somewhat and they had taken the necessary steps to send Blanche and Mary to bring Philip home and to prepare Hamstead for ite first military funeral, Jane went alone to her room and sat a long time, the tears rolling down her grim, plain face, the old candy box tied with red ribhons which Phillip had given het long before and which she had kept ever since on her bedside table near her Bible, clasped in her hands, “That nice, pleasant, happy she sald repeatedly, and added invel untarily, "and he was a real Chris tian, too, same as Mary said from the first.” Violet, when she had discarded her mourning for ber husband, had laid it away in ber attic with her usual ex quisite neatness, and Mary. anlocking the trunk, Brought down the things that Blanche needed and helped her put them on, just as she had helped her dress for her wedding, a year and a half before “If 1 had let him go when he wanted to, this wouldn't have happened.” That was the only complaint she made, the only grief which, so far, she seemed able to wvolee jut she sald It over and over again, after she and Mary were on the train, and the door of the pullman drawing room had been closed, leaving them quiet and alone together, “Hush, dear! killed in battle ™ one, boy ™ He might have been -gome compensation—a glory of achievement in that! This was just waste! Hundreds of boys are dying have been avoided. They've been al all over the country.” “I know. [I see how you feel. But I don't believe that anything Philip ever did was wasted, just the same” “If Paul dies, at least it won't be this way.” “No.” go the way you did? never comes back, either—do you ever think of that?" Did she ever think of it! come from a letter that had just Rosalie King. had had three days together before he “went across.” And that, she had learned, was to be all the honeymoon she would ever have. Mary, taking the letter from Mrs. Weston's lmp hand, read it over twice. And she had refused “a week at some quiet place by the sea”-had denied Paul the chance of looking forward to com. ghe ever think of it! “Yen, 1 think of it,” she said slow. iy. "But 1 had to do what I did, just the same. Even If I'd known he was going to be killed, Paul didn't-—didn’t love me the way Philip loved you.” “Mary-—what do you think it all means? Why do the people who aren't needed, who aren't even wanted, live and live and live? While the ones like Philip—Do yon think that it's really punishment for selfisliness— not just mine, but" “This whole war is a punishment of selfishness-—and an atonement for it, Philip ls—~one of thousands—" “But my part. That story coming that it was going to.” (TO BE CONTINURD) IY OTHER and big sister A need not think they are the only ones who go stepping out in dramatically staged- style shows these days. There's a rival attraction on, which is about to snatch much of the glory from prideful grown-ups who go pl- rouetting down fashions runway, It's the juvenile style parades which lead- ing establishments through the coun- ‘ry are presenting this season, These lilliputian style shows carry 8 very special message to onlookers that designers are making it a point to inject “style™ in the full sense of the word Into children's apparel. It Is not enough that youngsters’ clothes oe simply utilitarian and dainty and lovely but we are given to under stand that the modern child's ward. robe must bespeak a sophisticated styling which registers genuine swank. This element of ultra mode which is being so strongly advocated in the field of juvenile design flings quite a challenge to mothers who “do the family sewing.” However, what with the helpful patterns with full sewing directions and the perfectly fascinat. ing and inexpensive materials which are so easily available these days the task is made a joy rather than a bur. den. It adds greatly tg fabric in- terest that so many handsome new weaves made of synthetic yarns have been launched during recent years, such as the new crepes and sheers and lacy weaves as well as materials which look like tweeds and sultiogs of vari ous descripfon. The beauty of these madeof bemberg and rayon fabrics is that they wash and [ron as easily as a linen handkerchief. They are sun. fast, too, and resistant to perspiration. Another comforting thought is that white fabrics of bemberg always stay white, The modish little-tot trio of cos tumes in the picture tell a story of the little miss of six or thereabouts will be wearing during the coming months, The first little girl has on a Jacket-and-dress which will measure up in matter of “style” to mother's spring outfit. It is made of a two-tone red checked crepe of bemberg and rayon mixture. A perfectly stunning material this, which will endure any amcsni of hard wear, It's all “dolled up” with organdy fix. ings, too, as it should be to be stylish, The diminutive ocean pear] buttons on the collar and the pocket are just too cunning for words, costume newest The demure little lady, seated in the center of the picture, has on a frock which most any mother will be want. ing to copy. The material for this darling dress is dotted chiffon of bem berg. This features the new dropped shoulder. Tiny puffed sleeves a round yoke and an inset band in the skirt all of finely pleated net add to mode) The ribbon around the waist Is navy with red-red cherries to tell you that it's springtime, In every little girl's wardrobe there be at party pictured is in pastel The skirt frock pink is as should least one The model chiffon of bemberg full as a dress to wear to dancing school should be. That's why this adorable youngster is carrying a muff of tulle to match her Plerrot ruff. She has no doubt been doing some fancy dancing. For ordinary party wear this dress is lovely without the muff and tulle ruff © 193) Western Newspaper Union CHIC SEERSUCKER By CHERIE NICHOLAS We are going to wear lots of seer sucker this summer. It Is quite one of the smartest materials mentioned for sportswenr. When the young lady in the picture goes sporty and has an urge to play tennis she will don this sylo frock of striped seersucker. It wraps around and ties in the front it's the easiest thing in the world to slip into, having no troublesome but- tons, and it allows the freedom which an active young woman demands. In repose it has a slim and youthful sil houette, Not enly are the shops show- ing sylo frocks, but they are featuring sylo pajamas of stunning plaids and stripes which have the same practical fastenings. Odd Length Coats’ ‘The newest ensembles feature coats in odd lengths just below the hip, knee length, three-quarter, five-eighths and seven-eighths lengths. Full-length Sout3 ure Wise th eg auia th a coats wi or ve! share are also featured. STRING KNIT FOR The fashion moguls are looking to their knitting this spring. Knitted costumes for sports street are among the newest things shown In our move up and coming shops, And the big favorite now, the smart, “string Knit,” two and three plece sports outfits made out of knitted twine In natural color have a knowing air that has taken the town by storm, And it's really twine—the kind you use to tie up packages. Its meutral color and its smart dul! surface makes current sports’ costumes. a striped sweater with a solid color color dress, The new knitted sults and dresses and a trick of the season is the nse of an elastic knit which snaps back into shape. White Cotton Net Smart White cotton net is a new and smart color, especially smart, and each of them has trasting shade. Little ruled jackets of the same material are worn with the organdie, orgenza and starched chiffon gowns, Plaids Are Now Featured in New Evening Clothes Mainbocher uses plald for evening gowns, One Is of candy pink and white plaid taffeta, designed with a V decolletage, a closely fitting hipline and a skirt flaring into fullness below the kneeline. It is worn with an eo) bow length cape of the same taffeta. Red and green, and red and black taf. feta frocks are designed along the same lines and worn with jackets or capes to match, Plaids for Style Plaid silk dresses are smarter than printed ones this spring. Many of them have jackets of solid colors and it Is very chic to have a jacket of the same colored plaid in larger squares. OUR CHILDREN 8B By ANGELO PATRI BEAUTIFYING SCHOOLS CHOOL ought to be a lovely place. Children thrive best in beautiful That does not mean Things can be beautiful without being elegant, or ex- loud. Beauty is always A school building ought to be long Vines should dress and old trees shade its Flowering shrubs should the corners where chil do not reach them, and tucked in about their roots the spring bulbs should flourish. The inside of the building is where children live, That means that fit should he as beautiful as ft can be mnde without becoming obviously dee- orated. I think there ought to be one good every room. | like that picture to be the one that appeals strongest to the children who use that room, Pictures ought to inspire the children, so they must be those that the children can read. They can only read a picture that calls npon their ex- perience and thelr dreams, I would not have a lot of children’s work pinned shout 8 room. [It gath ers dust Bchoolrooms are not a8 good place for plants and animals, birds and’ fishes. If we can make them beautiful for the children we are doing well, First, let us make them clean, The walls, the the celling and the wondwork, all ought to be clean as brush and cleansing water can make them. The furniture should be smooth its fair surface unmarred. The chairs and benches ought to be comfortable. It costs no more to supply 8 comfort- able bench than to buy one that makes a child hunch and huddle and squirm to find a comfortable angle in it. snuggle in floor, There must be plenty of light and air, A dark room with poor ventila tion is never beautiful. The closets and wardrobes should be sufficient and they should be convenient. ‘When hnoks are higher than ghildren’s heads they cannot hang their things on them and they use the floor instead What ever makes for cleanliness. order. con and comfort will make the classroom and the school 8 beautiful This is 8 good time to check up on paint and washing pow- ders, furniture and equipment. Where the children live ought to be a place of beauty. venience, place to live, . + » WHY? “] WISH I knew some way. of mak- ing Clarisse practice ber music.” “Doesn't she practice?” “I should say not. If 1 didn't force her to go to the plano and stand there untii she began playing she would I've promised her every- thing but it's sll no use™ “Why don’t you try letting her alone for a change” “She wouldn't do a thing, I'm tell- ing youu Know what she did last week? So deceitful, | was so upset 1 cried. | made her go to the piano and I stayed there until she got her music on the rack and began running her fingers up and down. 1 had peo- ple coming to dinner so | had to go. I listened every once in a while and | heard her playing. At least 1 heard the piano going. “Well, her father came home early on account of the company and he came to me in the pantry and said, ‘Mary, is Clarisse supposed to be prac ticing or what? * ‘She's supposed to be practicing.’ ™ “But as a matter of fact she was doing the practicing. “There she sat reading a perfectly touching the keys, and letting her kitten go up and down the keyboard to fool me Into thinking she was play- ing.” “I'd stop giving her music lessons ™ “It's just a shame when Mrs Clure's She gave a recital at the town hall last week and everybody was crazy about it And I can’t get Clarisse to do a thing.” You can’t get Clarisse to do a thing but «cheat if you feel like that. Mak. ing a child learn to play a musical in. strument, take a professional course. learn to dance for public appearances so that you can enjoy the applause won't do. Children do not learn that way. An ‘art must have Its source in the child's soul. If It is not there You can never put it there, It is un. fair to use a child that way and no good comes of it, Fathers sometimes make the mis take of trying to make Siar sporfemen of thelr sons. A place on the nig tenm, un seat in the shell, a medal for a first in track or field sometimes he comes so important that it wrecks a bay nnd shakes a home to its founda. ons If you have a star, well and good. Let it shine, If you have a pleasant rughlight tend it well and fet it shine happily within its own little circle. It 1s better that way. © Bell Syndicate WNU Servies
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