———
Bright
Star
By
Mary Schumann
Copyright by Macrae Smith Ce.
WNU Bervice
CHAPTER X-—Continued
aL ann
“Oh, Mother,” he sighed. His eyes
were tearless, but the aching pain
was released. Her arms folded
around him; her cheek lay against
his hair; they were close in that
mystic bond of mother and son.
“It’s hard, Hugh.”
“I'm glad you know.” He groped
to his feet, stood by the mantel.
“Don't grieve too much. I have
to get myself together—meet it. It
has happened to quite a few others
. « « they've lived through it.”
“It isn't hopeless? Tell me about
it, for while I saw you getting
haggard and silent, it wasn't until
Dorrie came this week that I
realized—"’
“Did she speak of it?”
She shook her head. “I only knew
something is very wrong. I met
Lizzie Pendleton this week in a
department store. She said, "Too
bad about Hugh and Dorrie.” I
asked her what she meant, and she
gave me an odd look, and said she
supposed I knew—and swept away.
1 pieced it together.”
He began to pace the room. Then
he told her the story, or as little
as he could, minimizing, suppress-
ing, scanting details. “1 suppose
you have to know—I hoped you
wouldn't. But situations like this
never stand still. To go back to
where we were'—he shook his
head—*‘is impossible. Something is
killed—destroyed.”
His mother's eyes were filled
with tears: she looked suddenly old
and white, her vitality borne away
by her deep suffering for him.
The telephone rang in the closet
under the stairs and they heard
Kezia scramble to answer it. Her
oment by, “You won't be home?
. « « Yes, cars have a way of get-
ting out of commission at times!
. . . I'll tell your husband not to
expect you . . Here? Of course
he's here—got in an hour ago.”
She appeared at the library door
then. ‘‘Hugh, the telephone.” She
lingered a moment, caught by the
gravity of their faces. “It's Dor-
rie,” she whispered.
Hugh took up the receiver. ‘‘Hel-
lo, Hugh,” she began with hesita-
tion. *‘I didn’t think yeu'd be home
until tomorrow.
“You didn’t?”
“No, I didn't,” her voice strength-
ened and had a whip of defiance in
it. “Anyhow I'm at the Lawrences,
and they find they have a flat
tire, wanted me to stay all night
. But if you're home I'll send
for a taxicab.”
“Shall I come for you?"
“No need of it. It's way across
- town. I'll be along in half an hour.”
“Very well,” said Hugh grimly,
“but don’t come here. Go to our
own house.”
He began to gather up his things.
“I'll take your car, Mother, if you
don’t mind.”
Kezia hovered over him in ex-
cited solicitude. “I'll drive you
over, Hughie. Come, Jerry, help
me get the car out.” She paid
no attention to his protestations
that he drive himself, but hurried
away with Jerry following.
Soon Kezia sounded a summon-
ing horn from the driveway. Hugh
put down his burdens in a corner
of the hall. “I'm going . . . but
I'll be back in a little while. I'm
only going to talk to her.”
He strode out the door. He waved
to Kezia in dismissal. “Thanks
but I want to walk.”
CHAPTER XI
The walks were littered with
leaves that scuffed under Hugh's
feet. His shadow lengthened as
he passed under one arc light,
shortened as he approached the
light at the next corner. He
walked slowly, took the long way
round, that he might give Dorrie
time to get home; for Cun to get
away; time for her to rehearse her
story for the last time. And he
must be cool, as he was now,
viewing the whole thing with bal-
ance.
The turmoil which had mounted
in him the last hour, and which
had increased when he heard Dor-
rie's voice on the wire, ebbed
away.
Dorrie had taken off her hat and
coat. They were thrown on the
davenport. A plaid scarf with rus-
set tinges was still around her
neck. “Hello, Hugh,” she said
briefly.
“Hello, Dorrie.”
She leaned over and tied the lace
of her shoe. “Have a nice trip?”
she inquired as she raised her
head.
In spite of himself the sight of
her flusned cheeks, her strange
shining eyes, sent a tremor through
his blood. He rested his arm on
the mantel. “I had a profitable
one.”
She cogitated this. ‘‘Meaning
—
“What I said.”
“Very well—if you wish 30 be
enigmatic!” Cruel pin-points
danced in her eyes. ‘Are you go-
ing to ask me if I had a profitable
time while you were away?”
“I took it for granted.”
She shrugged. Then said: “The
house is cold; you'd better build a
fire if we're going to stay here.”
Under his steady gaze her eyes
dropped.
“I must have a talk with you,”
he said slowly.
They went into the sun room
with its wicker furniture. Forme
ally Hugh drew up a chair for her,
brought her coat and laid it
around her shoulders. He touched
a match to the asbestos-backed
grate, adjusted the flame. Then
stood in silence. Dorrie looked in-
to the fire; her white hands were
clasped around her knee. She lift-
ed her creamy eyelids. “Going to
tell me you're through?’ she asked.
“Yes, Dorrie, I'm through.”
He thought she trembled a little,
and the discernment that she was
in need of pity, even as he, battled
with his resolution. He stood watch-
ing her eyelashes flicker over her
cheeks as she looked down.
me?"
“Certainly.”
She relaxed in her chair a trifle.
“It's one of those things which
can’t be helped. At first I was dis-
out.
in his way then.”
“Except me.”
audible.
lovely face, he must, look his last
upon them.
bidden. The hate which surged
as great as his
“Yes, Dorrie, I'm Through.”
Something rose in his throat which
made it difficult to speak. He
swallowed.
“No need
there?”
She started.
“You won't
alone tonight?”
She gave a gesture of dissent.
“I'll be at Mother's. After you
apply you'd better go away a bit
not far ."” It was on his
tongue to say ‘‘near enough for him
to prolong this,
“You're going?”
be afraid to stay
from other entanglements,” but he
checked it.
the room.
evenings at his club, playing cards,
others reading in the company of
his mother, or in long
sively sympathetic when he
“What a relief!
sage in our chicken dressing now
Dorrie had difliked sage.
Kezia saw Hugh's annoyed look
when the radio moaned out a love
song, she usually shut it off and
dialed a different station. She made
an effort to be more thoughtful of
her mother in his presence, evi-
dently wishing his approval. Once
or twice she tried to discuss Jerry
with him.
“Why do you give Jerry a mere
nod when you come in? You could
be civil—say a few sentences now
and then. I tell him that it's just
your way-—one of those big, silent
business men with the reconstruc
tion of the nation on your shoulders
—but I wish you'd be decent.”
“It's no go, sis. I don't like
him.”
“How can you say that? You
don’t know him.” She was ag-
grieved.
He rattled his paper as a signal
that he wanted her to take herself
from the arm of his chair so that
he might read. “I think I do.”
Their eyes met and a thwarted
look crossed her face. She flounced
off his® chair with: “You'll all
drive me to something one of
these days! . . . No one takes me
seriously!”
A few nights later he was sitting
by the dying fire in the living-room,
leaning forward, staring at the em-
bers, when she came in a little
after twelve.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
i
“Hurtling Death”
By FLOYD GIBBONS
RNIE SMITH claims he’s the only man that has ever done
it. Way back in 1895 Ernie took a ride and he doesn’t think
it has ever been duplicated. Since that day people have learned
to cruise around in automobiles, and airplanes, and subma- |
rines and whatnot, but Ernie professes to be the only man in |
the world who ever took a ride on—a rock!
Ernie lives in Waltham. He's reached the age of discretion now,
and he doesn’t go whooping around in the country on rocks anymore,
but when he was sixteen years old—well—it seems he didn't much care
what he traveled on.
In those days he lived in the little town of Vinalhaven, Maine,
and had a job working for a fellow named Coombs who ran a
small boat building establishment down by the water front,
Blasting Solid Rock to Make a Cellar.
Coombs was just building his shop at the time this all happened. He
had the foundation laid and was nailing down the floor. Just across the
too.
Carnes was digging a cellar—blasting it out of solid rock. And
Ernie and Coombs, plugging away on their own carpenter job, worked
to the tune of intermittent thunder as Carnes set off one blast after
Carnes set off several blasts without giving them a word of fore-
warning, but one fine summer day he yelled across the street: "Hey,
I've got a little more powder in
here this time.” So Ernie and Coombs lay down their tools and began
looking around for a place where they would be under cover.
The water front at Vinalhaven started with a high sandbank,
Below that was a narrow beach, and beyond the beach, mud
flats stretched far out into the water.
Took Shelter in a Little Shack.
t was low tide and the mud flats were almost bare. At the edge of
the bank was a fish house—a flimsy little shack ten feet long by eight
feet wide—and a few feet away from that was a big, solid wood pile
Coombs and Ernie elected to stand in the shelter of the fish house.
and bits of rubble that Carnes’ blast might kick up. They gave
Coombs was sitting behind the little shed, but Ernie, who wanted
Carnes lit the fuse and ducked for cover
For a minute they waited. Then, suddenly, the air was shat-
“1 was watching it with both eyes,” says Ernie, “and I thought
the heavens had fallen in. The very air itself seemed to rock
back and forth. The sky was filled with stones—millions of
them, of all sizes and shapes. But what struck terror into my
heart was a great boulder that had shot up out of that pit and
was coming straight for our shelter!
Carried on a Huge Boulder.
That rock was a monster. When they measured it later they found
it was four feet long two feet wide and more than two feet thick. But
Ernie didn't necd any measurements to see it was big—didn't need any-
one to tell him that if it ever struck that flimsy shed behind which he
and Coombs were standing it would splinter it to matchwood and
knock the very tar out of the man and the boy behind it.
Ernie let out a cry and started to move. A few steps away was the
“Bat I never made it,” he says. “Instead, the rock made me,
It landed on a stone ledge beside our half completed boat shop,
bounced off at an angle and came rocketing straight at me.”
The next thing Ernie knew the rock was landing for its second bounce
RIGHT AT HIS FEET. Ernie had presence of mind enough to jump,
but the jump did him no good. Suddenly he felt the rock come up
under him and he was being carried through the air.
After that, Ernie couldn't tell you exactly what happened. And small
blame to Ernie for that. Coombs was standing behind the fish shed
watching the whole business. He had his eyes glued on Ernie all the
time, and he couldn't tell you exactly what happened either. All he
knows is that he saw Ernie carried for THIRTY-TWO FEET out into the
went on over the flats leaving Ernie behind flat on his back in the muck.
When Ernie got his bearings again he was in the mud. The rock was
still rolling, twenty or thirty feet farther out. He saw it stop, and then
se heard somebody on the bank cry out, “Carnes has killed the Smith boy"
Not Dead “By a Darn Sight.”
“But I lay there in the mud,” says Ernie, “saying, ‘Not by a
darn sight be hasn't.’ [It took me a few moments to work my feet
and hands clear of the mud, and then, to the surprise of a dozen
people I got up and walked over the flats toward the sand bank,
“Not a man offered me a hand as I started to climb the bank. They
just stood there petrified, looking as if a ghost was coming at them.
But when I did get up they asked me what happened. No one seemed
any too sure himself.}
Two doctors had just landed from a boat at a wharf close by, and
they looked Ernie over. Except that his clothes were practically torn
to ribbons and his right side had a few black and blue spots, they
couldn’t find anything the matter at all.
The next day Ernie went back to work again, and his first job was
juggling ROCKS-—clearing away about two tons of them that had
come out of Carnes’ excavation and showered all over Coombs’ half-laid
boat-shop floor.
©-WNU Service,
Hands Reveal Character
Anyone who sits with hands
loosely clasped in the lap is of a
quiet, well-balanced mind, while the
nervous person tries to control nerv-
ousness by tightly gripping the
hands together, states a writer in
Pearson's London Weekly. One who
has a habit of clasping hands with
fingers entwined is not keeping
strictly to the truth, while one who
partially covers the mouth with a
hand while talking has certain knowl-
edge, but is trying desperately not
to reveal it. A person who remains
seated while conversing with an-
other who is standing finds it very
difficult to tell an untruth and any
attempt to do so is easily detected
by the person standing.
Lavender Favorite Perfume
Lavender is one of the favorite
perfumes the world over and enor-
mous quantities of the dried flowers
are used annually to make the per-
fume and other lavender products.
The yield of oil varies from year
to year depending on the weather
and the age of the bushes. The
plants are very tender to
The oil has to be
Saint Bernard of Mastiff Family
Unlike many other breeds, the
origin of the Saint Bernard is a
the Mastiff family. The ancient rec-
diers used large dogs to guide sheep
Pass, no more than a pack mule
path. A hostile tribe destroyed this
path and cut off travel over the
mountains around 950 A. D.
Fen Eagles
Fen eagles were famous in the
Eighteenth century for the quanti-
ties of fish they devoured off the
Norfolk coast. One of them, shot
down in Suffolk in 1810, measured
nine feet across the wings. The
high rewards given for their cap-
ture played a great part in their
extermination. Une hundred years
ago, says the Montreal Herald, any-
body who destroyed en eagle in the
Orkneys was entitled to the gift of
a hen from every in the
nearest village.
H GRACE, before you go—
you're in a hurry, are
you—notice Mabel's slip
Isn't that
4
nos
|
A
inch material plus % yard con-
trasting.
Pattern
1970 is available
Size 38
in
requires
Or-Bi club last week, Mabel?
Yes, it's my Sew-Your-Own and
fits so smoothly. There's
bunchiness at the waistline or
|
i
i
terial plus 3 yard con ing.
Pattern 1988 is ailable in
Size 36 requires
and
shoulder
1 yard of ribbon for
there's lots of
bottom.
long it took me to make it—no
room
by the clock.
the pattern's instruction .chart—
new dessert.
Tie, Buttons, Hat to Match.
t would be grand for a tailored
dress like mine, wouldn't it,
bel?
Just the th
the Civic League luncheon at the
New Pattern Book.
for the Barbara Bell
and Summer Pattern
Make yourself attractive,
clothes,
Send
Spring
|
i
tifully in that
Grace. I'm crazy about it.
yoke-and-sleeves-in-one idea is
swell and the black tie and but-
tons to match your hat make you
look like Mrs. Merriweather her-
self.
Now, now, cut the rave. You
krow that neat-but-not-gaudy is
ny motto. Bye, I'll see you in
print.
So long . Anne, since you
like my slip so much, I'll be
glad to help you make one like
it, if you want me to.
That's lovely of you, Mabel,
but would that sort of thing be
right for a "Stylish Stout” like
me? You should hear George
when I call myself a “Stylish
He says 1 flatter my-
he
self.
That Slenderizing Effect.
Leave it to the men! This slip
would be especially good for you,
Anne, because it's fitted and,
George or no George, you look
stylish in that dress you're wear-
ing—but you DON'T look stout.
in front breaks the
skirt line, and the jabot and col-
lar do wonders for the “Buz-
zum.” It would be grand made
up in a flowered print for Spring,
Anne.
That very idea occurred to me.
afternoon and sew-—are
you game? Come to my house.
I baked a batch of oatmeal cook-
ies today.
It's a date, Anne, I'll be over
in the morning as soon as the
kids are off to school.
The Patterns.
Pattern 1200 is available in
sizes 14 to 20 (32 to 42 bust).
Size 16 requires 4% yards of 39
Foreign Words ®
and Phrases
Mirabile dietu. (L.) Wonderful
to relate.
Oui dire. (F.) Hearsay.
Parvenu. (F.) A person of low
origin; an upstart.
Qui vivra, verra. (F.) Who lives
will see.
Regnant populi. (L.) The people
reign. (Motto of Arkansas.)
Sanctum sanctorum. (L.) The
holy of holies.
Trink-geld. (Ger.) A gratuity.
Usque ad aras. (L.) To the very
altars; to the last .
Ventre-a-terre. (F.) At full gal
lop; at breakneck speed.
Wanderjahr, (Ger.) A wander-
year; a year of travel
make patterns. Interesting and
exclusive fashions for little chil-
dren and the difficult junior
slenderizing, well-cut patterns for
figure;
the most
age;
a 4
aie
dresses for
other patterns for special occa-
sions are all to be found in the
Barbara Bell Pattern Book. Send
15 cents today for your copy
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept, 247 W.
Forty - third street, New York,
N. Y. Price of patterns, 15 cents
(in coins) each.
© Bell Syndicate —WNU Bervice.,
* *
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True Charities
Our true acquisitions lie only in
our charities. We gain only as we
give. There is no beggar so des-
titute as he who can afford noth-
ing to his neighbor.—Simms.
Here's the iron that will “smooth your
on froning . It will save your
you do ironing easiec and