© Ben Ames Williams.
SYNOPSIS
Barbara Sentry, seeking to sober up her
escort, Johnnie Boyd, on the way home
from a party, slaps him, and attracts the
attention of a policeman, whom the boy
knocks down. As he arrests him, Professor
Brace of Harvard comes to the rescue and
drives Barbara home. On the way they see
Barbara's father driving from the direction
of his office at 12:45, but when he gets home
he tells his wife it is 11:15 and that be's
been playing bridge at the club.
CHAPTER I—Continued
—
Mrs. Sentry poured coffee, and
Oscar, who had served them for a
dozen years, hesitated at the table as
Mr. Sentry said: ‘‘Oscar, tell Eli
he'd better take me in today. I'll
be ready in five minutes.” He be-
gan to eat, hurriedly ‘Barbara not
awake?’ he asked.
‘“Oh, she may sleep till noon. She
was probably late getting in. Did
you hear her, Mary?”
Mary shook her head. She asked
her father, ‘‘Can you drop me at
the hospital on the way to town?”
“Of course!” he told her. He
asked, a little impatiently, ‘Paper
not here yet, Oscar?”
“I think the boy forgot us this
morning,’ the man replied. ‘‘Nel-
lie says she saw him go by, but
when I looked, just before you came
down, the paper wasn’t there.” He
added, “The car is ready, sir.”
“All right. Thanks,” Mr. Sentry
agreed. ‘‘Ready, Mary?”
“Soon as I get my hat on.” She
went into the hall.
He rose, stooped to kiss Mrs. Sen-
try on the cheek she turned to him;
and she followed them to the door
to watch them drive away, in the
high - topped old limousine with
brass side lamps, and with old Eli,
gardener, chauffeur, and general
handy man, who had served them
through all the years of their mar-
riage, at the wheel. Mrs. Sentry
liked old things, things with dig-
nity, about her. The Sentrys were
an old, fine family. Mrs. Sentry
had been a sea captain's daughter,
had met Arthur during his youthful
summers on the Cape. She thought
this morning with a familiar con-
tent that she had married wisely
and well.
Turning back into the house, she
heard a warning hiss, and Barbara
peered down at her from the upper
hall. Mrs. Sentry said: “Oh, awake,
are you? Why didn't you come down
to breakfast?”
“Is he gone?” Barbara demanded
in a dramatic whisper. “The coast
clear?”
“Your father? Of course.”
Barbara, with exaggerated cau-
tion, on tiptoe, came down the
stairs. Mrs. Sentry, thinking proud-
ly how pretty the girl was, smiled
at Barbara's pretended stealth and
asked:
“What have you been up to now,
you imp?"
“I stole his morning paper,” Bar-
bara confessed. “See!” She pro-
duced it from behind her. *I was
watching for the boy, and when he
came I slipped down and got it. I
even bolted the front door after-
ward so Oscar wouldn't know.”
“Why?" her mother asked in sud-
den concern. “Barbara! Have you
got yourself into the headlines?”
“I was afraid I had!” They were
at table now. ‘But I didn’t. There's
not even anything about Johnny.”
“What happened?”
Barbara laughed softly. “It was
really exciting,” she declared.
“When Johnny hit the policeman I
fairly squealed. After that, of
course, he had to put poor Johnny
in jail, and I'd have been stranded
if Professor Brace hadn't come
along.”
Mrs. Sentry said drily, “Suppose
you start at the beginning, Bar-
bara.”
Barbara considered. “Well, Hel-
en Frayne deliberately got Johnny
drunk,” she said. “I suppose that
was the beginning. So I persuaded
him to start home. He was really
awfully nice about it.”
“I'm sure he gets drunk in a most
gentlemanly way!”
Barbara laughed. “There, now
you're being severe! I love to shock
you, mother! You ought to be sorry
for poor Johnny, instead of being
80 sarcastic!”
“lI stil don’t know what hap-
pened.”
“Well, when we started home,
Johnny knew he couldn't drive, so
he asked me to, and I did, of
course; but I didn't want to take
him to Cambridge and then have to
take a taxi out here; and Johnny
was in no shape to drive. So I
turned down toward the ocean and
parked so he could get some air.”
“lf he was drunk, why not let
someone else take care of him?
Why did you have to—""
“Oh, 1 had to stand by!”
“Noblesse oblige?’ Mrs. Sentry’s
tones were scornful.
“I thought it was up to me,” Bar-
bara confessed simply.
Her mother relented.
it was. Go on.”
Barbara nodded. “But I couldn’t
wake him up. They say if you slap
their faces that helps; so I did, and
just then the biggest policeman in
the world came along and wanted
to know what the trouble was,
“Perhaps
“I told him it was all right, but
when he tried to help, and got John-
ny out of the car, Johnny hit him,
and they began to fight. So the po-
liceman had to knock him out. And
then Professor Brace came along
and offered to help, so he brought
me home, and he was going to take
Johnny some clothes this morning
so Johnny wouldn't have to go to
court in his dinner jacket.”
““And who is Professor Brace?”
‘““He’'s a professor in the Harvard
Business School, and he's ever so
disapproving and respectable. You'd
love him, mother.” Her tone was
affectionately derisive. ‘‘He looked
at me just the way you're looking
now."
Mrs. Sentry smiled. *“I don’t
mean to—look that way, Barbara.
It's just that you young people be-
wilder me a little, sometimes.”
“Poor dear!” Barbara murmured.
“That's just what Professor Brace
said. That was afterward, while he
was bringing me home.” She hesi-
tated, and Mrs. Sentry had a sud-
den impression that the girl was
holding something back; but she
was too wise to ask questions, to
force a reluctant confidence.
‘“‘He brought me home,’ Barbara
repeated. “And of course on the
way I thanked him, and told him
who I was, and he said I kept very
bad company. As if a girl could al-
ways pick and choose! And he told
me who he was—"
The telephone rang; they heard
Oscar go to answer it, and Mrs.
Sentry listened half to him, half to
Barbara.
“And he lectured me like a Dutch
uncle,” Barbara explained, “and I
told him he talked as if he were a
thousand years old, but it turned
out that he was only twenty-eight.
He's nice, even if he is serious. I
suppose, being so young, and a pro-
fessor and everything, he thinks he
has to be.”
Mrs. Sentry called to Oscar, “Did
they want Mr. Sentry, Oscar?”
The old man came to the door.
“Yes, Mrs. Sentry. It was his of-
fice. I told them he was on his
way.”
‘Is anything wrong?”
“They seemed anxious to get hold
of him."
“1 wonder why.” Mrs. Sentry re-
flected. Oscar made no suggestion.
“Probably just business,” she de-
cided, and spoke to Barbara.
“And Professor Brace brought
you home?”
“Yes.” Again that odd hesitation;
then she added: “We sat and talked
for a while, outside. He's coming
Sunday evening to call!” Her eyes
were dancing. “I think he plans to
reform me, mother!”
“Well, I hope he does!”
“l hope he tries,”
agreed. ‘I like him.
would be rather fun!”
Barbara
I think it
CHAPTER II
Mrs. Sentry liked to think of her-
self as extremely busy. She often
said, a little complacently, “My
days are so full, you know!"
This morning, after breakfast and
the mail—there was a letter from
Phil at New Haven—she consulted
with cook, and then for an hour or
two she was engaged with Miss
Simpkins, the sempstress who came
in by the day.
While she was being fitted, she
heard the limousine return, and
wondered whether Eli would know
why the office had telephoned to
Arthur. But Eli was deaf, and—it
could have been nothing worth in-
quiry. Their lives had long since
assumed a pattern. They dined with
their friends; their friends dined
with them; they went to the Sym-
phony in the fall before going South
for the winter; they saw the better
plays. Arthur had his golf on week-
ends, in a foursome of years’ stand-
ing that included Dean Hare, Judge
Ray, and Ernest Waring. The
Hares were probably their most in-
timate friends. Gus Loran, Arthur's
partner, did not play golf. Riding
was his sport. They exchanged din-
ners with the Lorans, but not often,
because of Mrs. Loran. They were
on old and cordial terms with a
dozen or a score of families like
their own. Mrs. Sentry thought of
their ordered lives complacently.
Then, remembering Barbara's ad-
venture the night before, she hoped
Barbara would, another time, be
wiser, and that Johnny Boyd would
be sobered by his thrashing at the
policeman’s hands, and she won-
dered what It was that Barbara had
decided not to tell her. Then she
heard voices on the tennis court be-
hind the house, and looked out and
saw Barbara playing with Linda
Dane; and she watched the two
young girls, slender, graceful, play-
ing hard tennis in a way that made
it look easy, in a fashion so con-
trolled and smooth they seemed to
move to music as though in a dance.
Then the set ended and the girls
came toward the house and Mrs.
Sentry could hear their voices in
Barbara's room, raised to be audi-
ble above the hiss of the shower.
When Miss Simpkins finished with
Mrs. Sentry, Barbara--hair in tight
wet curls on the nape of her neck
from the shower, slender and love-
ly in her slip—took her turn while
Linda watched, and the two chat-
tered happily together.
When Mrs. Sentry was dressed for
the luncheon—Mrs. Keith Urban
would call for her—she went to ask
whether Barbara would be at home
for luncheon. Barbara explained:
“No. I'm lunching with Linda, and
we're going to a movie, and tea at
the Ritz.”
Tires grated on the drive, and
Mrs. Sentry said: ‘‘“Here’s Mrs. Ur-
ban. Then I'll see you at dinner,
Barbara.” She went down the stairs.
Luncheon was pleasant, even though
Miss Glen—she was an English nov-
elist—did monopolize the conversa-
tion. Mrs. Sentry, listening to her
lecture afterward, thought Miss
Glen interesting but inclined to pa-
tronize. She remembered vaguely a
phrase, “On a certain condescension
in Englishmen,” and wondered who
said it, and it annoyed her that she
could not remember certainly, and
then she began to be sleepy, and
had to stifle yawns, and wished
there were a window open some-
where. Mrs. Furness’ furnace
must be on. It was too early to
start furnaces, Mrs. Sentry thought.
Open fires were enough to banish
the occasional chill of these early
fall days. El had protested yester-
day at the amount of firewood he
had to carry in every day. She won-
dered again whether Eli knew why
the office had telephoned for Arthur
this morning; but Arthur would be
home by a little after five, to tell
her. It was past four now.
Then Miss Glen had finished; and
Mrs. Sentry, when she and Mrs.
Urban were in the car, said in dry
distaste, ‘Alice feels she's responsi-
ble for our cultural life, doesn’t
she?”
“I like Miss Glen's books,” Mrs.
Urban confessed.
“They're good enough,” Mrs. Sen-
try agreed. ‘But it's a pity a woman
who can write as well as Miss Glen
does should feel called upon to try
to talk. I thought her deadly!”
Mrs. Urban subsided meekly.
Very few people argued with Mrs.
Sentry. Sip prided herself on speak-
ing her mind, had sometimes a bit-
ing tongue; and when she expresed
an opinion it was in the tones of an
oracle. Mrs. Urban was faintly re-
lieved to drop her presently at her
own door.
Mrs. Sentry expected to find Ar-
thur already at home; but Oscar
said he had not yet arrived. ‘Miss
Sentry and Doctor Ray are in the
living-room," he explained.
Mary, when Mrs. Sentry joined
them said, “Neil brought me home,
and I made him stop for tea.”
“Have you rung?’ Mrs. Sentry
asked. Mary had; and Oscar pres-
ently brought in the tray. Mrs. Sen-
try poured, and she suggested that
Neil stay to dinner; but Mary said:
‘“He can't, mother. I'm dining out.
At the Lorans'."
She saw the older woman's ex-
pression of surprise, and said: “Oh,
I know, mother. But Mrs. Loran
asked me three weeks ago, by tele-
phone; gave me no chance to think
up an excuse. What could I do?”
“Nothing,” Mrs. Sentry confessed.
Mrs. Loran was of course a vulgar
nobody, whom she herself had al-
ways held at a distance. Barbara
would simply and honestly have de-
clined this invitation; but Mary's
standards were conventional as her
mother’s. There were things one did
not do. Mrs. Sentry herself would
have felt compelled to accept an
invitation given three weeks in ad-
vance, unless the truth would serve
as a reason for refusal
Neil Ray said now in a jocular
tone: “‘Pshaw, Mary! You know
you'll enjoy yourself. Mr. Loran al-
ways makes love to you.”
‘““He makes love to everyone when
he's had a drink or two.”
“Well,” he insisted cheerfully,
“Endle’s good company—they say.”
Mary met her mother’s eyes.
“Mr. Endle’s calling for me, moth-
er,” she explained defensively. “Aft-
er all, he’s Mrs. Loran's brother,
and she suggested it. I couldn't very
well refuse.”
Mrs. Sentry said, “I suppose not!”
She heard the front door open,
called, “We're in here, Arthur.”
Mr. Sentry came to join them and
she saw that he was tired. “Hullo,
Ray,” he said, shaking hands with
the other man. “Hullo, Mary.” He
declined tea. “I'd rather have a
cocktail. Shall I ring?”
“Do,” Mrs. Sentry assented. She
perceived that something had dis-
tressed him; but she asked no ques-
tions, thinking he might prefer not
to speak before Neil Ray. Yet he
said at once, ‘“It’s been an upsetting
day.” And he explained, “The of-
fice was robbed last night.”
‘““Robbed?’” Mrs. Sentry echoed,
incredulously. “‘But there's nothing
there to steal! Except oranges!”
“Oh, there's always some money
in the safe. Some of the truckmen
who peddle their wares pay in cash,
you know.” He added soberly: “But
that's not the worst of it. A girl
was killed.”
There was an instant’s dreadful
silence. Mrs. Sentry asked through
dry lips: “A girl? One of your em-
ployees?”
‘‘No,”” he said; but he added:
“She did work for us for a while
last summer, during the vacation
season, when we were short-hand-
ed. Miss Randall got her from busi-
ness school. She was only with us
about two weeks. Her name was
Miss Wines.”
Oscar brought cocktails, but Doc-
tor Ray declined one. “I'm on duty
tonight,” he explained, and rose.
“You'll be wanting to dress, Mary,”
he said. “I'll go along.”
Mrs. Sentry thought he felt his
presence here an intrusion; but Ma-
ry, watching her father, said: “No,
stay. We're not dining till eight.”
Neil remained standing, uncer-
tainly; and Mrs. Sentry asked, “But
how was she killed, Arthur?”
“Shot,” he said. "Shot in the
back. They found her in the upper
hall this morning, outside our of-
fices."”” And he spoke again to Neil
Ray, explaining to him, seeming to
find relief in his own words. “Mr.
Loran and 1 have our offices on the
top floor, the third floor. It's an old
brick building, down in the market
district of course. His office is in
front and mine in back, with a re-
ception room between. Switchboard,
and some typewriter desks. Our let-
ters are handled there. Our book-
keeping and so on is done on the
second floor, and on the street level,
the routine business. Of course
mostly we sell directly from the re-
frigerator cars.”
“But what was she doing there?”
Mary asked; and she added: “I
think I met her last summer, father.
You remember the day I came down
from York to do some shopping and
had lunch with you? She was taking
some letters when I came in to get
you, and you introduced her. Lit.
tle, and rather pretty, and innocent
looking? I'm sure I met her.”
“Probably you did,” he agreed.
“1 don't recall.”
going.”
“You needn't hurry, Neil, really,”
Mary urged.
Mrs. Sentry said, “Mary, don't
you see Doctor Ray is embarrassed,
wants to get away?” Ray started to
protest; but was silent as Oscar
brought the Transcript.
took it, looked at the front page.
‘““Here it is,” he said, and was silent,
reading the brief story under its
small headline.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
The terrier is a tailor-made dog.
He's a product of civilization, being
no more a creature of the wild than
his boss. It's just as fitting for a
terrier to spend his life ungroomed
as it is for the gentlemen of the era
to wander unshaven. Or, for that
matter, for the ladies to defy the
dictates of fashion, to the last hair-
dresser, and be natural, asserts an
authority in the Washington Star,
By grooming is meant stripping
and plucking. Every one knows that
a dog of the heavy-coated type must
shed, come springtime. Otherwise
there are skin troubles and general
discomfort. Terriers fall under this
classification. Of course, if Pups
isn’t plucked he'll shed some. And
if dad's hair wasn’t cut it'd shed
some, too, after it had grown as
long as Mother Nature intended in
the first place. When Pups is re-
lieved of his winter coat in the
proper manner, he emerges a ca-
nine fashion plate.
Taking terriers as a whole, pluck-
ing makes the greatest difference
in a wire fox terrier. Scotties and
sealyhams, etc., still resemble scot-
ties and sealybams with all their
CLASSIFIED
DEPARTMENT
HOUSEHOLD
COMFORTERS
Clubs. Rovelty and bingo users. Tipe wade wpe:
cially for this trade. Opporiunity w buy direct
from manufacturer and save widdleman’s profit.
Address Phils. P. 0. Box 85, 9th St. Annex, Phila, Pa.
THOSE P. 0. PENS
The determined-looking lady was
trying to fill out a money order ap-
| the post office. She made several
| trials, but in vain, says the Montreal
| with a glare as she demanded:
CHICKS
BR. AND WH, ROCKS, REDS AND BR,
| CROSBES., AIl' hatched from selected
| Blood -Tested Breeders. Hatches weekly.
MILFORD HATCHERY
Milford Road nr. Liberty Rd., Plkesvilie,
FP. 0. ROCKDALE, MD. Pikesville 36-1,
Here's an Answer to
School Hat Problem
| when signing Magna Charta?”
| The official replied: “Informa-
| tion at the next window, please.”
You Better Not
| Amos—When yo'all gwine pay dat
note?
| ‘“Ah ain't got no money now, but
| Ah gwine pay just as soon as Ah
kin,"
“Dat don’t git me no nothin’,” re-
torted Amos. *‘If you'all don’t pay
| me here an’ now, Ah gwine burn
up your old note; den where all you
gwine be at?"
“You better not! You better not!"
shouted Nat. “You just burn dat
note of mine and Ah'll burn you up
wid a lawsuit.” —American Legion
Monthly.
I'll Be Back Later
The young man, in faultless eve-
ning dress, came hurrying into the
police station early in the evening
and placed his suitcase on the coun-
ter of the charge-room.
“Hey, what's that?”
sergeant in charge.
“O, just my pajamas, shaving
tackle, and what-not,”” came the
cool response. “I'm just going off
to a party with the boys and, as far
as I can see, I'm pretty certain to
be along here later on.”
asked the
POISON GAS
“Run for your life, Jack, we al-
most ran into that bag of Paris
Green.”
Matter of Choice
“Tell me, captain,” said one of
the passengers on the cruise, “do
you think a light diet or an ordinary
meal is the best preventive for sea-
sickness?’’
“Well,"”" said the captain, a keen
bridge player, thoughtfully, “it
really depends on whether you pre-
fer to discard from weakness or
strength.”
Do as the Lord Does
“1 was rather surprised to hear
that you were thinking of marriage
again, Mrs. Jones,” said the vicar.
“Let me see—this is the fifth time,
isn't it?"
“Yes,” replied Mrs.
fiantly, “and as often as
takes ‘em, so will L.”
Jones, de-
Heaven
Handling Him
| Manager—I just learned that this
fellow you wrestle next Tuesday
used to be a sailor.
Wrestler—Well, I ain't supersti-
tious, Mike, but you wait till next
Tuesday and watch me throw that
salt over my left shoulder.
Teacher's Privilege
Professor—Are you teaching this
i class?
Pupil—N-N-N-No, sir.
Professor—Then stop acting like
a fool.
SEASIDE WORRIES
it's heavy coated.
a floor mop.
painless. An instrument is used that
resembles a short-toothed comb,
with sharp edges. This “stripper”
is run through the coat (by hand),
thinning it down and shaping it up.
Dead hairs, ready to come out any-
way, are plucked between the
thumb and finger. All in all, there's
nothing to it to give the dog any
discomfort. Nails are clipped and
filed, furnishing the manicure, and
Pups is washed and ready to be
admired. The job can be done for
a small sum, including everything.
Carried Coffin With Her
Mini fany | now that Sarah
rnhardt, great car-
Fld ha Cole Sa har
every night on a trestie made espe-
cially to hold it,
| was down here all alone, hubby?"
By RUTH WYETH SPEARS
Here is a cunning schoolgirl hat
that's easy to make. You need
two pieces of goods—one for the
hat and one for the lining. They
may either or contrast.
Fach piece should be 1-inch longer
than the measurement around the
largest part of the child's head.
The depth of the pieces should be
half their length. The diagram at
match
he uppe sketch
hows
tern for
y
make a paper pat-
he hat Cut a square
piece of paper '%.-inch wider and
deeper than half the meas-
urement. Mark point A on the
ight edge { way between the
Points
ked at the center
top and bottom of the paper
dotted |] are guide lines to help
i lines between A
Point D i
+ nf H .
nt of the top
oy
now to
+
+
nead
as shown.
The
nes
shape the curv
and B
the cen
h 2 1
and C and D.
in cutting eac
The diagonal
£1 ¢ 4 are
18 the center back
) wit}
planned Bo
and Embroi y—1i0
Every page contains complete,
clearly illustrated directions for
hings you can make at almost no
cost. Enclose 25 cents and address
Mrs. Spears, 210 S. Desplaines St.,
Chicago, IlL
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Dept. PW2 1558 Milwaukee Ave. Chicage, ill.
Worthy Spark
Our humanity were a poor thing
were it not for the divinity which
stirs within us.—Bacon.
The Devil Leads
i When rogues go in procession
| the devil carries the cross.
3
another hundred.”
Not So Lively
Oldtimer—How do you like our
little town?
Visitor—It's the first cemetery
that I ever saw with lights in it.
For Guys With Pash
\ “Boy,” exulted Joe Prepp,
“y'oughta see my new machine! It's
a honey-—perfectly safe, cheap to
run, and you can take corners on
two wheels without any danger
a'talll”
“Yeah? What kind is it?”
“A bicycle!”