SYNOPSIS Mary Loring and her father, Jim, an in. effectual attorney, meet a train which brings his wealthy sister-in-law, unmarried Linnie Cotswell and her friend, Lelia Ormsby, di. vorcee, for a Christmas visit, Waiting at home for them are Mary's mother, her younger sister, Ellen; her father's nagging maiden sister, Aunt Mamie, and Peter, the baby of the family. At the depot Dr. Christopher Cragg helps the guests with their luggage. Mary is secretly in love with Doctor Cragg. In leaving, her Aunt Linnie urges Mary to visit her in New York, but Mary refuses. Mary works in a rental li. brary, where she spends her spare time writing short stories. Mary's father is let out as railroad attorney, the fees of which were almost the sole su rt of his family. To earn money she decides to begin writ. ing in earnest. Mary feels sure that her newest story, "At Sea,” would please the editors of National Weekly. After finishing it she calls Doctor Cragg, who comes to the book store for a current novel. Falling from a ladder while getting his book, she regains consciousness to find his arms around her, He tells her he loves her, and then tells her he is to be married the coming month to a girl he has known all his life. Despondent, Mary decides to accept her Aunt Linnie's inyitation. In New York her aunt laughs at her for her plans to write, and insists that she meet as many eligible men as possible, The new week brings two letters. One, from the National Weekly, with a $100 check for her story, makes her deliriously happy. The other, from her sister, tells her that finan. cial conditions at home are getting worse, ‘The next day, at a party given by her aunt, Mary meets distinguished Jerome Taylor, wealthy middle aged man-about-town, and effusive Count Umberto Balianci. The co s oily manner nauseates her. A note from her father the following day pleads with her not to mention the family's finan. cial plight to her aunt. After reading it she forces herself to begin vork on her next short story, which is more difficult to write than the first She labors on until her aunt informs her that Count Umberto, whom Lelia terms a sponger and fortune hunter, is to take them to dinner that eve. ning. He takes them to a garish restaurant in Greenwich Village. That evening Mary sends her story, "Their Son.” to the Na- tional Weekly She goes to see Phillip Buchanan, editor of the National Weekly, to whom she has given her last story. CHAPTER VIi—Continued oe She smiled at Mr. Buchanan. “Yes, I am Mary Loring.” “You took me rather by sur- prise.” “Oh! But I thought Miss Hicken- looper announced me!” “She did, of course. I mean that I was hardly prepared for a debu- tante. ‘At Sea’ has the wisdom of years in its theme.” “I'm twenty-two,” Mary replied, as if that explained everything. Phillip Buchanan smiled, and his teeth seemed very white because of the contrast they made with the tan of his face. “All of that? Do sit down, Miss Loring. I'm so glad you dropped in. I've wanted to tell you how very much we liked ‘At Sea.” It's scheduled for publica- tion April fifteenth.” Mary seated herself in a chair which faced him across the desk, the envelope containing her manu- script held tightly beneath her right arm. “Oh! Not until April?” ‘avot until April?” Mr. Buchanan repeated. ‘“Why, that's giving your story an early publication! Don't you know that our material—at least as far as fiction is concerned--is planned months in advance? In fact, we shelved a story we had arranged to publish on that date in orcer to make room for yours. By the way, have you written anything since you sent us ‘At Sea'?"” Mary produced the envelope con- taining her precious script, and placed it on the desk before him. “Indeed I have, Mr. Buchanan, and here it is. Another short short.” Phillip Buchanan glanced at it, put it on a pile of papers at his left, and then casually lit his ciga- rette. “That's fine. I'll turn it over to Mr. Johnstone today.” Mary's eyes clouded with disap- pointment. She had supposed that Mr. Buchanan, himself, would read the story—perhaps this morning while she sat there in his office. “Mr. Johnstone?’ she repeated numbly. “Yes, one of our readers.” Then, evidently sensing her disappoint. ment, he explained, ‘You see, all material submitted to The National Weekly goes through a regular rou. tine. Mr. Johnstone reads it first, separates the wheat from the chaff; hands on the possibilities to Mr. Arbuckle, who in turn «does a bit more weeding. After which, what- ever is left goes on to Mr. Van Winkle. He then okays what he considers best suited to our needs and sends it on to me. A sort of survival of the fittest, as it were!” ‘Heavens, what a test!” Mary re- plied, that elusive dimple playing at one corner of her meuth. “I'm sur- prised that anything ever reaches your desk! I had supposed . . .” “That I read everything that comes to the office? Lord, nol 1 couldn't wander through all that trash! However, you may rest as- sured that your story-—what's the title, by the way?" “Their Son,” Mary replied. “You may rest assured that ‘Their Son’ will be given a sympathetic reading. We like your style, and the realistic manner in which you handled the situations in ‘At Sea.’ Once an author has appeared within our pages, he's given, as far as we're , a place in the sun. In fact, on second thought, I'll prob- ably just turn this over to Mr. Van Winkle—not put it through the mill" He glanced abruptly at the dull gold watch strapped to his wrist. ‘Lord! It's nearly one o'clock, and I have an engagement with Ford Hansen at two. How about having a spot of lunch with me, Miss Loring?" Mary's hands clutched convulsive- ly beneath the protection of the coat which lay across her lap, and, to her embarrassment, her face flushed scarlet. Phillip Buchanan, the editor-in-chief of the most popu- lar magazine in the United States was asking her to have a ‘spot of lunch’ with him! “Why, thank you,” she managed to reply. “That will be fun.” Buchanan leaped from his chair, and went towards a cupboard at the far end of the room. “All right,” he said. “Let's go.” And opening the door, he dragged out a camel's hair top-coat, and slid into it. *I want to talk to you about a series of shorts, and this is a swell op- portunity.” Mary felt dizzy with excitement as she and Phillip Buchanan, closet- ed ip one of the silent elevators of LAY A g 4 NG RRNA ho WN JApd] Mary felt dizzy with excitement. the building which housed The Na- tional Weekly, descended twenty floors to the lobby. Mr. Buchanan was taking her to lunch! Mr. Bu- chanan wanted to talk to her about a series of “shorts” for his maga- zine. She mentally estimated how many words she could write a day; how many hours it would take to revise and polish what she had writ- ten. She must not be hasty or care- less. She should, she figured, al- low herself two mornings for the original composition, two additional mornings for revision, and a fifth sitting, perhaps, for perfect retyp- ing of the script. They had reached the lobby, now, and were heading for the street door. ‘I say,” Mr. Buchanan be- gan, "you don't mind barging all the way down to the Lafayette, do you? My appointment with Hansen's in that neighborhood.” Mind! Mary would have gone to Chinatown, or Great Neck, or Tim- buktu with him, had he suggested one of those spots as a lunching place! “l don't mind at all,” she returned. “I've wanted to see the Lafayette ever since Greta Garbo appeared in ‘Romance.’ Mr. Buchanan locked puzzled. * ‘Romance’? Oh, yes, I remember now. All about a young minister who fell in love with an actress! That's right. Some of the scenes were supposed to be laid at the La- fayette. Well, I don't know that you'll find a great deal of the at- mosphere of the sixties remaining, but it's a good place to eat. Come on, we'll hop a taxi.” Once in the cab, he settied him- self comfortably back against the leather cushions, as if to snatch a bit of rest while the opportunity of- fered, lit a cigarette, and said, “Well, tell me something about yourself, Miss Loring. You're from some small town in the West, aren't you?” Mary glanced shyly at the clear- cut lines of the man's profile. He looked rather bored. No doubt his taking her out to lunch was only a necessary evil as far as he was con- cerned-—the courteous gesture made by a publisher to one of his con- tributors. Perhaps he was asking her to tulk about herself merely in order to avoid the trouble of mak- ing conversation. “My home's in Hawkingville, Iowa,” she began obediently, feeling that at heart he wouldn't care if she Hailed from the just yisiting my aunt in New York for a while,” “Oh, so your aunt lives here” “Yes, my m 's sister.’ But she's going South’ sometime in March, and I'll probably return to Hawkinsville, II. would like to stay in New York indefinitely, a would you like to stay in New York?’ Mr. Buchanan asked. “1 should think it wo easier away to write in y oat ty AWAY Fight in touch with a certain type of life which, judging from ‘At Sea,’ you're particularly capable of han- dling. Hawkinsville téwn, isn't it?" “I suppose that's what you'd call it, Mr. Buchanan,” Mary replied, hating herself for the resentment that had crept into her voice. ““The population's almost ten thousand." Then, with a chuckle, “In fact, it's been almost ten thousand for the past fifty years! Most of the boys leave for Saint Louis or Chicago to get positions as soon as they're fin- ished with high school or college. Some of the girls marry and go away. A few new families dribble into town every year, and the men get employment at the leather fac- tory. People die, babies are born, but the population remains the same.” The man finally “That's interesting,” he comment ed, and the faint lines around his mouth crinkled with amusement. “Tell me. What are the—ah-—en- tertainments? What do people do all the time?" “Well,” Mary is a country looked at her. replied, warming pverlooking the Mississippi. The men, and some of the women, play every Saturday night there's a din- ner dance with Swanson's orchestra from Burlington to furnish the mu- gic; and even though Art Swanson could never, in anyone's wildest mo- ments, be termed a second Paul Whiteman, the music is good. Real- ly, it is! Then, there are two movie houses, and often we get pictures that haven't even been released in Saint Louis yet. And, of course, the churches are very active, and there during the winter, with the women of the guild cooking and serving the food themselves.” “And darned good food, 1 bet it ist" “Oh, is it! Fried chicken and cream gravy, and corn on the cob, in the summer, with great slabs of chocolate cake and home-made ice- ham, all coated with crisp, brown sugar and baked in wine, Boston “Stop! water! Lord! small towns know how to live!" “In—more ways than one,” Mary said tensely, her thoughts flashing back to her father and mother; a sudden wave of homesickness and pity assailing her. "At least, they know what Life is all about. They're closer to it, somehow, than people in the cities. Closer to times, you get annoyed because ev- erybody in town seems to know your innermost secrets—vyet, on the other hand, you know that those very same people care-—and care terribly when you're sick or dying, or in trouble.” Their cab was drawing up before the Lafayette, and Phillip Buchanan turned abruptly and faced her. *“That is the kind of people you must write about!” he said. “That's the life you know. You were born to it. You were raised in it. You've been steeped energetic jerk, he tugged open the door of the taxi. - The Lafayette was seething with activity. Smartly groomed women were lunching at “tables for two" with smartly groomed men. Larg- er tables, surrounded by males only, buzzed with laughter and conversa. tion. At first, Mary thought per- haps she and Mr. Buchanan would have to find another place for their “spot of lunch,” but the captain miraculously located a small table for them, decorated by three yel- low jonquils in a bud vase, and plumped against a window, “What sort of cocktail would you like, Miss Loring?’ Phillip Buchan- an asked, almost before he had suc- ceeded in getting his long legs be- neath the snowy cloth. “None, thank you,” turned. “You see . . ." “Fine!’ the man replied. “Well, you don't mind watching me drink, do you? Have you decided what you'd like to eat?" Mary glanced at the menu in her hand. *‘““An Egg Benedict, 1 think, and endive salad.” “Egg Benedict and endive salad, Alphonse, for Miss Loring, and I'll have fillet mignon with sauce men- uiere. Coffee, later.” He glanced at his watch again. His life, thought Mary, seemed to be run on sched- ule. He had consulted that time- piece exactly five times in the past hour. “It's a quarter after one,”’ he announced. “I'd better tell you what we have in mind for you, Miss Loring. Both Mr. Van Winkle and 1 are enthusiastic about ‘At Sea.’ The plot, of course, is not particu- larly new, but then, after all, no plot is. You attacked it from a fresh viewpoint, however, and we liked the manner in which you handled we feel that a series of done in the same style, be used by The National over a period of several months. Say, one every other week. And, in time, if they prove satisfac- tory, and click with our public, we will, of cgurse, gradually increase the pay.” “I'll do my best, Mr. Buchanan, she said breathlessly. “I'll start in tomorrow. I-—I think I have a plot in mind right now. And then, of course, you have ‘Their Son." "' “Yes. Jan Winkle will give that a reading within a few days, if pos- sible. We're practically deluged with scripts right now, but many of them are unsolicited, and he'll give ‘Their Son’ preference as far as the time ele- ment is concerned." “Is there any particular treatment your . . . 3 “Simply stick to writing about type of life you know,” Buchan: replied, cutting she He then attacked for the next few min pletely ignored her existence resentful, she adhered to her vow of silence. Buchanan, however, didn't seem to notice the deficiency, and luncheon would probably have gone on indefinitely without further exchange of words, had it not been interrupted presently by a young man with an engaging smile, who spied them from an adjacent table, and came over to speak to Buchan an. He was short and dark, with gray eyes that were serious yet friendly. “Hello, Phil,” he said cordially, coming towards Buchanan with out- stretched hand. “You're the very person I hoped to see today.” “Hello, Jim! Glad to see youl Miss Loring, this is Jim Ormsby.” Jim Ormsby! Could this stranger be Lelia’s former husband, or were there any number of Jim Ormsbys in New York? “How do you do?” she returned. “What's on your mind, Jim?" Phil Buchanan was asking. “Won't you sit down?” “Thanks, no. I'm dashing off to keep an appointment. [t's this, Phil -Paul Waring and Lorry Wood and I are running up to my place in Connecticut over the week-end, and we want you to make a fourth. Bad- minton at the club, you know, and plenty of Contract between drinks. How about it?" “1 think it's a swell idea, Jim, Count me in.” “Fine! I'll give you a ring tomor- row, and inform you on all the finer points of the situation! Good-by, Miss Loring” {TO BE CONTINUED) Mary re- shorts, Weekly " some or Science, playing the role of a mod. ern Joshua, has devised a method whereby life can be commanded to stand still in a latent state in which no change can take place for tens of thousands of years, it was report. ed before the American Philosophi. cal society, according to a Philadel- phia correspondent in the Boston Herald. While the new method of making time stand still can be applied at present only to very small living organisms, such as yeast cells and bacteria, with no present indica. tions that it could ever be applied to larger living forms, it opens up new vistas for the future, both ihc. oretical and practical, it was point. ed out, In this new state of being, de. scribed as the *'latent state of lite,” one minute in the life of the organ ism can be stretched out to 10,000 years, the philosophers were told by Professor Alexander Goetz, hoted physicist of the California Institute of Technology, inventor of the time- arresting process, Forms of suspended animation have been achieved before ip lower realms of life but the earlier proc- esses were based on an entirely dif- ferent principle, much more limit- ed in its scope than Dr. Goetz's method for producing latent life, in which animation, instead of being merely suspended for comparatively short periods, can be placed in a state of apparently complete inani- mation for periods of time that, from a terrestrial point of view, may be regarded as timeless. In an interview, Professor Goetz revealed that he is applying his new “time machine’ to human sperm cells, in an effort to establish wheth- er the seed of human genius may not be placed in a state of latent life to be revivified from generation to generation, thus preserving the talents of future Newtons, Shakes speares, and Beethovens for all gen- erations to come. India’s Mountains Five of the world’s highest moan. tains are located iin india. They are: Kanchenjunga, Godwin A Nanga Parbat, Nanda Devi Kamet. Mt Everest, the highest mountain of all, is in Tibet, ADVENTUROUS AMERICANS By Elmo Scott Watson Immortalized by a Dam BONNEVILLE dam in the Colum- bia river perpetuates the mem- ory of an adventurous explorer who was both a great success and a great failure. In 1832 French-born Capt. Benjamin Bonneville of the United States army obtained a leave of absence to engage in a fur trading expedition on condition that he ex- plore the trans-Missouri West obtain information Indians, the topography ef the « try and its economic poss Two years later he set out head of a party of 110 men. Commerc y complete fail such poor tiersmen called sense.'”’ Some were so high in the mountains that they were of from the outside by the first snows of winter, But his expedition was successful in that he explored the route through South Pass for wagon trains and mapped the pass of the Columbia river through the Cas- cade mountains, was an able military not lose a his perilous journ dian-infested wilderr After return to met Washington Irving : Jacob Astor an book , Captain Bonneville” writer. and the i venture He that the “Fort built fc A438 3 rts ocations fron. nN » NOn- cut age Moreover he singl his er’ of Bonne had absence son reinstatec 1836 n oD protested have been ie service ins yroved them wrong that his conduct during the “Aan wa which won r him a citation gallantry in action. In 1852 he be- came com ver wni river his name. adier Louis in the spring * ‘A Message to Garcia’ UT in California year-old retired whose name Was once on every American's lips. He is Col. Andrew Summers Rowan, the man who car. ried “a message to Garcia.” In 1898 war with Spain was im. minent and President McKinley wanted to know if General Garcia, commander of the Cuban insur. gents, would co-operate with the American forces if an army was sent there. The man chosen to find out was young Lieutenant Rowan. Rowan proved that the confidence of his superiors was not misplaced. Making his way through the steam- lives 82- army officer an germ-filled water, living on such food as he could find and in constant danger of capture and execution by the Spaniards as a spy, Rowan found Garcia, got the information ly perilous return trip. Rowan was taken to the White House whete he received the thanks of the President and promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel of vol- unteers. But the thing which made him famous was an editorial, writ- ten by Elbert Hubbard, for his mag- azine, the Philistine, the followin year. 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If a man ] : ly while a instead of himself, he und women. The mistakes most of us re- gret are the mistakes that cost us money. If our ideal: should we sions? Pa y about Years in Moments i At certain periods of life we live years of emotion in a few weeks, and look back in those times as on great gaps between the old life and the new.—Thackeray. CONSTIPATED! Gas Crowds Hea Death Valley Samaritan ing lizards and darting poisonous erous trap baited to lure adventur- ers with promises of gold. Beck became known as the “Good directing prospectors to water holes. them to safety. For 13 years, sided only by Rufus his Newfoundland dog, Beck braved the hardships of the Colorado and Mojave deserts, as well as Death Valley, and saved between 300 and 400 lives. In 1017, although warned not to by his dog, Beck drank from an infected spring and never re- covered from the resulting illness, Although comparatively unknown today, Lou Westcott Beck is proba. bly one of the most selfsacrificing of all the great American adven- Vain Attempis It is impossible for a man who | attempts many things to do them | all well.—Xenophon. That Nagging id 18 of the kidneys. are aot $0 become overdazed and fail to Alter exces acid trom the Hlegiving
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers