ws ————
By Mary Schumann
Copyright by Macras Smith Ce
WNU Bervice
SYNOPSIS
Kezia Marsh, pretty, selfish and twenty, ar.
rives home in Corinth from school snd is met
by ber older brother, Hugh. He drives ber to
the Marsh home where her widowed mothes,
Fluvanna, a warm-hearted, self-sacrificing and
understanding soul, welcomes her, Kexia's sis-
ter, Margery, plump and matronly with the
care of three children, is at lunch with them.
Hugh's wife, Dorrie, has pleaded a previous
engagement, On the way back to his job at
the steel plant founded by one of his fore.
bears, Hugh passes Doe Hiller, a boyhood
friend whom he no longer sees frequently be-
cause of Dorrie’s antipathy. Fluvanna Marsh
wakens the next morning from a dream about
her late hushand, Jim, whose unstable char.
acter she fears Kezia has inherited. Ellen
Pendleton comes over, She is an artistically
inclined girl who is a distant niece of Flu-
vanna's. She happily tells Fluvanna she has
become engaged to Jerry Purdue. Ellen fears
that her father and mother, Gavin and Lizzie,
will not approve the match. Hugh and Dor-
rie go out to the Freeland Farms to dance
with their friends, Cun and Joan Whitney.
Whitney, who has been out of work, has a
new position. Cum and Dorrie dance together
and then disappear for a while. Dancing with
Joan, Hugh is amazed to find her in tears
Apparently she has some secret worry over
ber husband, Cun. When Ellen and Jerry
speak about their engagemens to Ellen's par.
ents, Lizzie is disagreeable until Jerry sym-
pathires with her imagined ailments. The mat.
ter is left pending. Unexpectedly Hugh has
to visit a neighboring city on business. Return.
ing home to ask Dorrie to accompany him he
finds her telephoning. In confusion she quick.
iy hangs up without saying good-by, She
finally agrees to accompany him. They spend
a delightful day and Hugh is happy. At a
family party, Kezia encounters Jerry. Ellen
is disturbed when Jerry is absorbed by Kezia
Kezia goes out of her way to charm Jerry.
Fluvanna is concerned about Keszia, who is
evasive about dates she has been having at
night. She muses over the resemblance of
Kezia to her late husband, recalling how tem.
peramental, moody and improvident he had
been. She recalls the tragic picture of his
death—how after drinking and gambling to
excess he is faced with financial ruin, how he
tries to force her to mortgage ber resources
to pay his debts and threatens her with a
gun, how in a struggle for its possession he
is fatally wounded.
CHAPTER VI—Continued
in} Bee
“I've been counting the days and
it seems as though I could scarcely
wait. The cabin has a big fire-
place where we can burn logs on
cool nights; it's near enough to
town — ten miles — so that our
friends can drive out to see us.
We'll have suppers for them-—play
cards—sing—dance to the radio.”
“Friends,” mused Hugh. ‘Any
special ones?"
“Special?” The reticence of her
English blood made her look sud-
denly shy. ‘You mean men? Well,
there's always someone who—takes
an interest.”
“And he'll come out?”
“Yes.”
“We can’t get along very well
unless someone takes an interest,
can we? If it's too special I'll lose
my very good stenographer, how-
ever. That would be a calamity—
unless—it was essential to your
happiness.”
‘He hasn't enough money,” said
Miss Ruskin in a low tone She
moved her pad on her knee and
lifted her pencil for his dictation.
Hugh turned in his swivel chair
and picked up a sheaf of letters.
“Just one or two of these should
go out today. The others can wait.
I know you want to get away
early.”
“Mr. Marsh,” said Miss Ruskin
speaking with an effort, “you say
we can't get along without some-
one who takes an interest. 1 say
we can't get along without a vaca-
tion. It helps us to look at things
differently; we are stronger to take
care of our troubles when we come
back. You haven't had a vacation.
You—you look as if you needed
one.”
Hugh shook his head. “Just lack
of exercise. I'm all right. Too
many problems this summer to get
away. Starting tonight, I'm walk-
ing home—two miles. I'm going to
walk night and morning-—exercise is
all I need.”
After she left the room, he re-
membered that Doc Hiller, whom he
had run into at lunch had said the
same thing. Doc had asked him
what he was doing to himself
burning the candle at both ends? He
had gazed at him critically. “You'd
better drop in some noon, let me
look you over. That old plant will
be there after you're dead and gone,
my boy. You are killing yourself
with overwork.”
He took his hat to leave the of-
fice. Five o'clock—Saturday after-
noon. He would walk home, al-
though he didn’t feel like it.
It would be good to have a vaca-
tion, play and swim as Miss Ruskin
intended doing, but that was out
of the question. He had urged
Dorrie to go away, visit her sister
Beryl, or her mother who had mar-
ried a dentist in Rochester, go to
the seashore. But she had shaken
her head. She was contented here.
It was no fun at the seashore if he
couldn't go along.
Late Saturday afternoon traffic
tied up the crossings in a tangle of
cars and hurrying pedestrians. The
September heat was as oppresive
as that of July, and it seemed a
"
she said smiling. “Hasn't it been
ghastly hot? 1 envied you high
up in your cool office.”
“It was hot there, too. You're
looking unusually devastating.
What's the answer?! Are we go-
ing out?”
“We're going over to Joan's—
have you forgotten?’ She did not
say it with a hint of impatience
as she usually did when he for-
got; her tone was indulgent. “Had
to work late again Saturday after-
noon, poor Hugh? Why don't you
lie down and nap for a half-hour
before your bath? I'll call you
in time.”
“Bridge?”
“Yes; but one of Joan's good
chicken and spaghetti dinners first.
You'll like that.” She folded the
spread of one of the beds with
meticulous care, pulled down the
sheet invitingly.
He could have slept for hours but
he was awakened in a few min-
utes by Dorrie standing over him
saying: “Time to dress, Hugh.”
Drowsily he opened his eyes. The
late sunlight was glimmering yel-
low on the ivy which arabesqued
the screens. He had to dress and
go out to that confounded dinner—
play cards.
“Would you like me to lay out
your shirt and tie? Put the but-
tons in your collar?” Dorrie spoke
gently. As if she had been in error
apologizing.
He rose, rubbing his eyes.
tain or go somewhere.
ordeal.
and a blue coat.”
and a blue tie.”
his drawer.
in better spirits, more alert. Late-
ly she seemed to be
said. Sweet
critical others.
He took his shower
dressing when Dorrie said:
thing happen today down town?"
‘Not much. Just the usual”
Then his face brightened.
did.
House.
I hadn't talked to him for a year.
You know Doc and I were just
“when we were boys.”
“Go on,” said Dorrie.
not all.”
“Not all?
Just about. He had
day at his office.”
he have said that?
alarmed?
with faint derision,
the rest of it.”
“What do you mean?”
Hugh, you have no finesse—ab-
to say, ‘Let's have the Hillers over
some night soon.
turned the dinner they gave for
us,’—now weren't you?"
“l don't think I was,”
Hugh with irritation.
have been any use .
ask them. They'd tell us to yo hang
-~they have some pride."
“You're mad,” teased Dorrie.
“Do get mad often! I like you when
you storm like that and get red in
the face!”
“Oh—rot!” He pulled his tie un-
done and retied it, muttering, “We
could have been courteous to them
at least!”
In silence he finished dressing
and in silence they got into the car.
Half-way to the Whitneys, she
laid her hand on his knee. “Be
nice,” she coaxed.
His left brow went up whimsical.
ly. “You be nice.”
“l will,” she promised, and be-
gan to chat gayly about the clever
way an agent for a coffee concern
had wormed his way into the house
that morning. ‘He was just like a
phonograph!”
“Treat them kindly, even if you
don’t buy,” he advised Dorrie. “It's
the hardest kind of work, and they
make scarcely anything.”
“I ordered a couple of pounds of
his coffee—sent him on his way re-
joicing.”
Cun greeted them at the door,
with a hearty welcome. “The ice
is almost melted! I made the mis-
take of shaking them up too early!
. . Come on, Joan."
Joan came hurrying in from the
kitchen; the open door wafted in an
odor of appetizing food. ‘“‘Are the
Marshes dry-—or wet?"
“Evening, Joan! Very dry with
this blistering heat.”
“Well, soak this up,” said Cun,
refilling Hugh's half-emptied glass.
“Dorrie, say when.”
Joan's table, with its lace cloth,
THE CENTRE REPORTER, CENTRE HALL
“A Twenty Dollar Bill”
By FLOYD GIBBONS
HERE are some things that money can’t buy, but there are
lots more things that you can’t buy without money. This is
the story of the money a man didn’t have and how the lack of
it almost cost him his life. And it's the story of a twenty dol-
lar bill and how it came to the rescue of Ignatius Craig of Bronx,
N.Y.
And when I tell you that Brother Craig produced that twenty smack-
er note at a time when he didn't have twenty bucks to his name—well—
that just makes it all the more puzzling. As a matter of fact, it sounds
just plain impossible. But here's the story and you can judge for
yourself,
For six years, Ignatius Craig owned and operated a grocery store.
And in that grocery store, on a bitter cold night in November, 1832, he
had the adventure and the twenty bucks he didn’t have.
In Came the Two Hold-up Men.
It was late in the evening. The last customer had left the store,
énd he was getting ready to close up. He stepped out from behind
the counter to lock the door, but before he could reach it, two young
men walked in.
One of them stuck a gun in his side and hissed, “Get into
the back room-—and if you want to live, don't try any funny
stuff.” And he did as he was told. Then, while one of them
held the gun on him, the other took the money out of the
cash register.
locked at it and cursed.
day I would take the money out of the register and hide it in some
part of the store, just in case there was a hold-up.
cent I had.
trick of hiding money.
Gave Him Ten Seconds to Produce.
to me, stuck his gun in my side and said: ‘Where is the rest of the
“You Won't Be the First Rat We've Shot”
dough’? The other fellow pushed his gun in my stomach. “We'll give
you ten seconds to make up your mind,’ he snarled. Then if you don't
tell us where the rest of the money is, we'll shoot you like a dog.’
“I shall never forget the looks on those thugs’ faces. I knew they
was no more money in the store. Five seconds ticked by while I stood like
a statue, terror-stricken and afraid even to breathe.
“Then the first crook said: ‘You won't be the first rat we've
shot either. And don't make any false moves or one of these
guns might go off before your time is up.” The clock ticked
off a few more precious seconds. Still I beld my breath. I
was in the worst predicament of my life.”
Yes—Ignatius Craig was in a spot—and well he knew it. If he
could only gain a little time! His voice shook so badly that he could
hardly get a word out of his mouth, but he tried as best he could to ex-
plain why he had so little money in the store. He even offered to show
them the receipted grocery bill he had paid earlier in the day. But all
a revolver.
Useless Plea for Mercy.
down completely.
“Please—for God's sake-—don't shoot me. I'm telling the truth.” And
see.
be just too bad.” .
That sounded like a death knell to the helpless captive. How
he prayed that a customer would walk in! These men had mur-
der in their hearts, and if he didn’t produce money he was done
for. Yet he knew there wasn't a dollar in the place.
One of the men said, “I'll count up to three. Then if you don't
talk, you'll get plugged. The other one said, “Never mind the count-
ing, Jack. Let's give it to him right now!” And then, suddenly,
Ignatius Craig had an idea!
Understand, he knew there was no money in the store. And 1
know there was no money in that store. Both of us will swear it on
a stack of bibles as high as an undertaker’'s hat. But nevertheless
he said. “Wait a minute. I have money. There's a twenty dollar
bill hidden under a can of tomatoes on the shelf right back of the
cash register.”
The Bill Satisfied Them—Then.
One fellow nodded to the other. They marched their captive out
of the back room and made him point out the can. One of the men
lifted the can, picked up the bill beneath it, glanced at it and put it
in his pocket. The thugs pushed him into the back room again, and
one of them said: “We ought to shoot him anyway.” But the other
said, “We've wasted too much time already. Leave him alone and
let's get going.”
Then they pocketed their guns and walked calmly out of the
store, apparently satisfied at getting that extra twenty dollars
that Ignatius Craig swears fo you—and I swear to you—that he
didn’t have!
A call to the police brought no results. The two men were never
caught. Ignatius Craig sold his business a short while later, because
he was afraid those fellows would come back. You see, all those ban-
dits got was the thirty dollars in the register. Craig told the truth when
he said he had no more money. The twenty dollar bill under the
tomato can was a counterfeit—one that he'd been stuck with and want-
ed to keep separate from the real money in the cash drawer.
“Bad money,” he says, “is usually hard luck to the one that gets
I'll swear to this day that my life was saved by
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