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