CHAPTER XIII—Continued
we] Be
The ocean was not visible from
here, but the salt of it was in the
air, and James heard the roar of
waves breaking against rocks. As
the sun disappeared behind a cloud
the old man stopped, laid down his
bag and buttoned his coat higher
about the throat, shivering a little.
In summer this road would be alive
with tourists, he supposed. It was
deserted now—a man-made strip of
macadam that seemed curiously out
of place between the rocky pastures
which bordered it on either side.
Strange, James Lambert mused
as he started on again, that 24 hours
ago he hadn't dreamed of being
here. Strange too, that despite the
uneasiness he felt at seeing Nora,
he was happier than he'd been for
years and years. After a time he
found himself hurrying a little. That
“short half mile” which the con-
ductor promised, seemed very long.
Yet he couldn't have missed the
place. This was a lonely stretch of
road with no lanes leading seaward.
He stopped again, drew Nora's post-
card from his pocket and was study-
ing it minutely when a voice star-
tled him.
R. F. D. man?”
Moving a step or two
James saw that the voice belonged
to a small boy who had, apparently,
been swinging on a rustic gate, half
hidden from view by a clump of fir
trees. There was a mail box too.
This must be the place! The old
man’s heart-beats quickened as he
responded: “I haven't seen anybody
since I left the trolley. Are you—"'
Then, all because a sudden breeze
had blown the boy's hair away from
his forehead, the question died on
James’ lips. Where had he seen a
forehead and hair like that? he
asked himself, some half-forgotten
memory stirring to life. Ah! now
he recalled it! The door to his own
library—a tall young man stand-
ing upon the threshold, youth incar-
nate .
“You're kind of out of breath,
aren't you?” the boy was saying. “I
guess you've been hurrying. If
you're tired why don’t you sit down
on that rock? It's a good smooth
one. Mother sits there when she's
waiting for the postman. 1
he'll bring the money this
She'll be pretty discouraged
doesn’t, b'lieve me.”
James asked, as he availed him-
self of the proffered resting place:
“So your mother expects the post-
man to bring some money?”
The youngster nodded, his
eyes very serious.
““She’s been expecting it for
more’'n a month, and she's pretty
'sturbed about it. A lady that lives
in the biggest house at the Port
summertimes, owes it to her for
teaching her little girl to play. Moth-
er’'s a swell piano player; and she's
a swell cook, too. Are you going
to Norton's, Mister? It's quite a
walk.”
“I'm not going to Norton's,” re-
plied James. “How old are you,
sonny?”
“I'll be six and three quarters
before very long,” was the prompt
answer. “What's your name,
please?”
James, doing a hasty sum in men-
tal arithmetic, failed to respond, He
said: “Then you must be"
“I'm James Lambert Mason," put
in the boy. “I'm named for my
grandpa, but I've never seen him.
It’s sort of funny not to know your
own grandfather, isn’t it? But I've
heard a lot about him and seen his
picture. It's on Mother's desk. Do
you know, if you weren't so old and
didn’t have so many wrinkles, you'd
look something like him. That's
queer, isn’t it? Gee! here comes the
postman! I hope he’s bringing Moth-
er’'s check!”
Eyes on the eager face, James
echoed this hope; but the mail car-
rier merely tossed out a paper;
and the old man saw with conster-
nation that his grandson was fight-
ing tears of disappointment as he
picked it up.
“Was it a big check?’ The ques-
tion was a kindly effort to make con-
versation.
“It was—e-normous,”’ replied the
boy, and swallowed. “It would buy
two tons of coal, and coal’'s expen-
give. Last winter we burned wood
and Mother got pretty tired tending
the fires. Dwddy said he couldn't
stand seeing her do it. Besides,
now he cam"t move fast any more
he's awl'ly cold. Days when the
wind blcws off the ocean he doesn’t
get warned up at all. I've got to
go now, Mister; but you can sit
there as long as you want to. It's
our rock.”
“Thanks, sonny; but I think I'll
make a little call on your mother.”
The child's face lighted.
“Goody! We don’t have much
company. If you'll put your bag
on this side I'll help you carry it.”
“It's not heavy,” James told him.
“Why—why can’t your father move
fast any more?”
“Because he's a hero!” The boy
lifted his head proudly, and again
James seemed to behold a tall young
man standing in his own doorway,
if he
blue
“Mother's told us about it heaps of
times. It's one of our best favorite
stories. You see, Mother and Daddy
were at a movie and the roof sort of
caved in and lots of folks were hurt
and killed, children, and their fa-
thers and mothers too. That's sad,
isn't it? Well Daddy grabbed Moth-
er and got her out all safe; and
then he went right back to help the
others. Mother says he went where
no one else would go. He saved a
life.”
“I see,” said James. ‘‘And—and
where was your mother while he—
saved it?"
‘“‘Sne was out on the sidewalk near
as they'd let her get. There was
deep snow everywhere, and pretty
soon it began to snow some more
and the wind blew dreadf'lly and
she thought he'd never come. And
when he did come two real kind fire-
men were carrying him; but he was
hurt so hard he couldn't answer
when she called. I was a little boy
“But she couldn't wait for him.”
then so I don't remember very much
about it; but I remember one
thing!”
“What was that?” James asked
as the child looked up in expecta-
tion of the question.
“It was next morning. A lady
wanted us. We jumped right up and
ran into her and Daddy's room and
Mother hadn't got up yet and what
do you s'pose was there beside
“I can’t imagine.”
“A baby! We thought Santa Claus
going to bring her, but she
little sister Iris!"
“Irig!"’
At something in the old man's
voice his grandson glanced up, puz-
zled.
“Yep. It was my grandma's
name. It's the name of a flower
too; and Daddy says my little sis-
ter's mere like a flower than any-
thing he ever saw, ’cept Mother.
But we boys don't think Mother's
one bit like a flower. She's too
useful.”
“Well!” said James. The Nora
he remembered might have been
likened to a flower, but she surely
wasn’t useful.
“Don’t you think Iris is a pretty
name?’ queried the little boy.
“Yes, yes,” James murmured,
but hardly knew what he was say-
perhaps, at that scene of tragedy
. snow driving against her face
: . waiting waiting . . .
Dread in her heart and her babe
about to be born . . .
He had to force himself back to
the present as the boy said happily:
“That's our house! See the roof
over beyond those pine trees? You
wouldn't think it was a barn once,
would you? It's a swell house now,
Mother calls it our shining palace.”
“I see.” The old man’s heart was
thudding unaccountably. “Is—is she
at home now?”
“Nope. I mean no, sir. She's way
down the beach with Daddy, and
Donald, and my little sister. You
see, Mr. Perkins the ’spressman
gave us an old wheelchair that
belonged to his grandma, so now
Daddy can go most anywhere. We
push him down to the water when
the tide goes out, and he walks
back, going real slowly. Last year
he couldn't walk hardly at all.”
For a moment James was filled
with a sense of horror. Confined to
a wheel-chair—that boy who had
found life in an office stifling! It
was unthinkable! They had reached
the house, and feeling suddenly very
old and very tired, he said: “I'll
sit down on the steps, sonny. You
tell you mother—well, tell her it's
someone who knows her father.”
“You mean my grandpa? Gee!
She'll be glad to see you! It's get.
ting cold now, isn’t it? I guess you
better come inside.”
He had opened the door, but
James stood for a moment regard-
ing the exterior. So this was Nora's
“palace,” this weather-beaten old
stable, a relic of more leisurely
days when people drove horses in-
stead of automobiles. And it wasn’t,
he mused, even an attractive sta-
ble! To be sure, the casement win-
dows gave it a pleasing look, and
the front door possessed a certain
dignity; but there was one of those
abominations known as a cupola on
top! Indeed, his namesake, seeing
that this unexpected caller was
pausing for a view of the ‘swell
house,”” came back to point out the
cupola with pride.
“That's our watch tower! We can
see the enemy approching for miles
and miles. Did you notice the win-
dows? Daddy and us boys are crazy
about the colors. Come on in.” And
as James followed him: “This is
a gorgeous room, isn't it? Mr. Little-
field says it's miles too big; but we
don't think so. You see, it's the
ball room."
‘Indeed?’ responded James. “No,
it's not too big, and as you say,
sonny, it's—gorgeous.”
It was; yet looking about him cu-
riously, James Lambert pondered
on what made it so. The place was
shabby enough in a way. The build-
ers’ paper with which the walls were
covered, was stained in places. A
big chair needed upholstering. But
on the wall opposite was a rug that
would have done honor to a.Rajah’s
palace! James went forward, touch-
ing the beautiful thing with reverent
fingers.
“We picked that up in Persia,”
said the little boy.
His grandfather smiled at the odd-
ly old remark.
“You did?"
“Well, I didn't, "zactly. I've never
been there. It was Daddy found it;
and it's a magic carpet. That's why
Mother wouldn't sell it to the rug
man from Boston. You see, Daddy
can lie here and look up at it, and
then he remembers things—like the
queer place he found it in and, oh,
you know-'speriences he's had in
foreign countries. It makes him
happier. No one would sell a magic
carpet, would they?"
“I suppose not," said James: and
thought: “What was it Nora told
me about memories?"
“It's very old,” went on his name-
sake. ‘Older than I am; and so
was Mother's di'mund came
way from South Africa. She and
Daddy were on their way home with
it when I as born. Did you know I
was born on the high seas?”
“You were!" Nora had never
written about that.
“Yep. Mother was sort of expect-
ing me, but she thought I wouldn'
come till they got to England. Dad-
dy says I'm the only fellow he ever
knew per—personally, who was born
on the high seas."
The small boy stopped to struggle
into a scarlet sweater.
“When I get back,” he promised,
“I'll show you the watch tower if—
if you're young enough to climb a
ladder. I've got to run now and
find Mother . . . Oh, I forgot!” He
turned at the door, evidently re-
membering his manners. “Just
make yourself at home.”
“Thanks,” smiled his grandfatk: ¢,
“I believe I will.”
that
ial
CHAPTER XIV
So Nora's father was left alone in
her “shining palace.” He stood by
the fire, letting his eyes roam slowly
around the “ball room.” It was an
unusual room, a room of extraordi-
nary beauty; yet James had never
seen anything just like its curious
blending of poverty and riches.
In one corner stood a baby-grand
piano. He was glad that Nora had
kept up her music, but—a baby-
grand, when the stuffing was com-
ous. Evidently this improvident cou-
ple believed in spending when there
was anything to spend. That rug
now-—that bit of cloisonne—the Rus-
sian candelabra on the mantel. Only
real money could procure such
things.
The old man moved forward,
passing his hand over the lacquered
chair, its mother-of-pearl inlay shin-
ing dimly. Leonora had written him
about that chair at the very first.
Something her husband had picked
up during his wanderings. Japanese,
of course. No one surpassed the
Japanese when it came to lacquer.
His own Chinese cabinet (of which
James was rather proud) couldn’t
for one minute compete with work
like this, he admitted honestly. And
here was a nest of tables to match
it. Beautiful! Those tables belonged
in a museum; yet on the smallest
stood a set of tiny dishes, put out,
evidently, in anticipation of a doll's
tea party! Did Nora's children play
with things like this? Extraordi-
nary!
James turned again, his eyes
caught by a painting of a clipper
ship above the fireplace. That was
a ship! One could almost feel the
wind filling its sails. A Venable, of
One would recognize it any-
ad been
erstood.
them
course.
where. Well, Carl Venable }
a friend of Don's, he und
The picture may have cost
nothing. Too bad the artist had
been cut off in his prime-—a man
with a gift like that. It was a mar-
velous painting—worth a great deal
of money; yet here it was in a
room where the bookshelves were
nothing but boxes, packing boxes
piled one upon another and stained
to match the woodwork.
Books, books, and still more
books. A pretty penny they must
have spent on books, two;
and yet, Nora's father al-
most with reluctance, the books fur-
those
aa
could—gave it
varied bindings made
a camel's hair shawl his mother
used to wear How they
blent with the fine old rug that hung
above them!
Well,
softly
he must sit down for a
while. That walk from the car had
tired him unaccountably. Despite
its worn upholstery the big chair by
the table looked inviting; but he
must get nearer the fire—stretch
out on the davenport a moment.
James paused, staring down at
what he had taken for a divan. Why,
world but a
pew out of some old church! Wo-
ever heard of putting such a thing
into a living room? And yet—by
George! —it seemed to fit the place
—belong here! What beautiful carv-
ing on those old posts. One seldom
saw such work in these days. Well,
this was certainly the strangest yet.
A pew out of some old New England
meeting house! But it looked sur-
prisingly attractive with its thick
crimson cushion and pillows of the
same warm hue. And it looked
comfortable. “A great deal more
comfortable,” James told the empty
ball room, ‘than those modern,
overstuffed affairs one can't get up
from without a helping hand.”
For a tired moment the old man
gat down and closed his eyes, won-
dering wearily if this strange home
of Nora's possessed a guest room.
His sense of humor, grown rusty
since she went away, lifted its head
as he soliloquized:
“Perhaps they'll allow me to curl
up in the watch tower!” James
chuckled. “The enemy in the wa‘ch
tower would be something new!”
Then remembering that the boy had
said his picture was on Nora's desk,
he forgot his weariness and arose
briskly.
{TO BE CONTINUED)
the
Although a healthy and organical-
ly sound race, Eskimos are serious-
ly susceptible to ailments which or-
dinarily cause white people only
minor discomfort. Before the com-
ing of the white man, says London
Tit-Bits Magazine, they knew noth-
ing of such ills as colds, influenza,
and other kindred ailments, and
there had been no need for their
bodies to build up a resistance to
the attack of these diseases. Con-
sequently the arrival of the first
whaling and trading vessels each
season was followed by widespread
outbreaks among the natives, often
with disastrous effects.
Today the medical services in the
Far North take particular care upon
the arrival of vessels to check the
spread of these diseases. Modern
hygiene has been a contributing fac-
tor to the physical well-being of the
natives, and by instructions about
proper diets doctors have reduced
considerably the number of deaths
from dietary causes. A most strik-
ing success has been made in the
correction of methods of feeding in-
fants and older children, with the
result that happy-faced, vigorous
children now form a considerable
portion of the population.
Medical care for the dwellers in
the Far North is provided by doc-
tors,
pitals, and for thousands of miles
along the Arctic coast of the Do-
minion, in fair weather and in foul,
medical officers in the service of
the government bring their healing
art to the Eskimo citizens. Indians,
half-breeds, and indigent whites are
also given medical aid.
Winter and summer patrols of
hundreds of miles are not unusual,
and nearly every mode of transport
known to the North country, such
as airplane, steamboat, motor boat,
canoe and dog-sled has been used to
extend this service.
Much Water to Grow Sugar
As about 4,000 tons of water are
required to grow one ton of sugar,
some of the cane fields in the less
rainy sections of the Hawaiian is-
lands are obliged to maintain ex-
tensive and costly irrigation sys-
tems, says Collier's Weekly. One of
these sugar-cane plantations uses,
throughout the summer, about half
as much water as is consumed, dur-
ing the same period, in the city of
Philadelphia.
i
Star Dust
* Pearl Was Canny
* Gargan Reduces
* “Willie” Flops
ee By Virginia Vale
PEARL WHITE'S death
4 brought out an odd fact,
when her father denied that she
was forty-nine. She was forty-
she had just tacked on a few
years, long ago, ‘‘to keep ahead
of Mary Pickford.”
A woman who interviewed the se-
larity was talking about her recent-
I'll never for-
see her one
reading a
"
throwing it around.
get, either, going to
day, and finding her
It seemed odd, too, that Warner
Oland, who so often played the vil-
lain in Pearl White's pictures,
should have died soon after she did.
He was famous in those days, but
of course his great success came
with his creation on the screen of the
character of ‘Charlie Chan.”
armcrirsfnm
“The Crowd Roars’’ not only gives
Robert Taylor a chance to give an
excellent performance; it also
brings Bill Gargan back to us in a
good picture, minus some 20 pounds.
Leslie Howard sent for him to come
BILL GARGAN
d and play in “Alias Mrs.
be-
made a hit in the new
But the name of
be
* which he is producing,
If you've seen Hedy Lamarr In
“Algiers’’ vou probably have won-
dered whether she will be one of our
A-1 movie stars in a year or so, or
will just be making pictures that
are nothing special. And if you've
seen the announcement that Josef
von Sternberg has been engaged to
direct her first picture for Metro,
probably you're still wondering, Of
course, Mr. von Sternberg may not
have been responsible for slowing
Marlene Dietrich down so that she
seemed to be doing nothing but
stand around, but sometimes he's
been blamed for it.
Ch
There are a lot of good pictures
at large nowadays; better make a
list of them. Include “The Crowd
Roars,” “Alexander's Ragtime
Band,” “Mother Carey's Chickens,”
“The Rage of Paris,” and, if for-
eign pictures come your way, “May-
erling.”
ene
Charlie McCarthy has been such
a success on the air here that the
British Broad-
casting company
tried out the idea
lie of their own.
called the
“Willie
And
was a
Which
puppet
really is.
Incidentally,
another Edgar Bergen
that, no matter how popular you
are, there's always a time ahead
when the public grows tired of the
same old thing.
isin
ODDS AND ENDS—W atch W. C. Fields
make a comeback as author of, and actor
in, “You Can't Cheat an Honest Man
lonting 4
ture together again . . .
ing to turn
still act in a picture occasionally—and is
in England . . . After having too much
excitement, seeing too many people, and
a eh
. emple was awfully g
to end her vacation and get back home
« « « Lots of people didn't believe that
Simone Simon would really sail off to
France without signing a new
though the aniy siniract hat
seemed to one appearance al a
Now York might club.
© Western Newspaper Union,
HOUSEHOLD
QUESTIONS
Left-Over Juice.—Save the juice
from canned pineapple and the
to use when making fruit punch.
* ® *
Clean With Soda.—If there is a
constant smell of burning when
cooking is going on, examine gas
burners. They are probably filled
with sediment from “boilovers.”
* \d *
Economy Note.—Pieces of rib-
bon that come on gift boxes may
in making shoulder
Cut them
Putty That Sticks.—To make
small quantity of white lead; mix
thoroughly with the putty.
When the grocer says be prefers DWIN
be is speaking with cuthority. He bas
hundreds of insect killers from which ©
make his choice. Do as the grocer does
choose DWIN to kill insects In your home.
It is also effective for many plant insects in
the garden. DWIN is first choice among
millions of customers from coast to coast,
Copyright 1038. BALDWIN LABORATORIES, ING,
Bosgerwws Fo
BIN HOUS
L ;
Vain Learning
How vain is learning unless in-
How Women
in Their 40's
Can Attract Men
Here's good advice for a woman during her
change (usually from § o 52), who fears
she'll lose her appe 0 worries
sbout hot flashes, y, dizzy spells,
Upset nerves and »
Get more {resh
E. Pink ound,
especially f t helps Nature bull
up physical resistancs, thus bheips give more
vivacity to enjoy life and assist calming
jittery nerves and disturbing symptoms that
often accompany change of life. WELL
WORTH TRYING!
Faith's Own
Give to faith the things which
belong to faith.—Ba
WORMS quickly removed from
children or adults by using the
famous remedy, Dr. Peery’s
“Dead Shot’ Vermifuge. No
castor oil or anything else is
needed after taking “Dead
Shot.” 50c a bottle at drug-
gists or Wright's Pill Co., 100
Gold St., New York, N. Y.
Give to the Living
The living need charity
than the dead.—Arnold.
more
Were you ever alone
in a strange city?
this newspaper is so important to you.
NOW is a good time to get to...
KNOW YOUR NEWSPAPER