CHAPTER 1
w—
Sherwood Park is twelve miles
from Washington. Starting as a
somewhat pretentious suburb on the
main line of a railroad, it was
blessed with easy accessibility until
encroaching trolleys swept the tide
of settlement away from it, and left
it high and dry—its train service,
unable to cempete with modern mo-
tor vehicles, increasingly inefficient.
Property values, inevitably, de-
creased. The little suburb degener-
ated, grew less fashionable. People
who might have added social luster
to its gatherings moved away. The
frame houses, which at first had
made such a brave showing, be-
came a bit down at the heel.
The Barnes cottage was saved
from the universal lack of loveli-
ness by its simple lines, its white
paint and green blinds. Yet the
paint had peeled in places, and the
concrete steps which followed the
line of the two terraces were
cracked and worn.
Old Baldwin Barnes had bought
his house on the instalment plan,
and his children were still paying
for it. Old Baldwin had succumbed
to the deadly monotony of writing
the same inscription on red slips
through thirty years of faithful serv-
jce in the Pension Office, and had
left the world with his debts behind
him.
He had the artistic temperament
which his son inherited. Julia was
like her mother who had died two
vears before her husband. Mrs.
Barnes had been unimaginative and
capable. It was because of her that
Julia had married an architect, and
was living in a snug apartment in
Chicago, that Baldwin Junior had
gone through college and had some
months at an art school before the
war came on, and that Jane, the
youngest, had a sense of thrift, and
an intensive experience in domestic
economy.
As for the rest of her, Jane was
twenty, slender as a Florentine
page, and fairly pretty. She was in
love with life and liked to talk about
it. Young Baldwin said, indeed,
with the frankness of a brother, that
Jane ran on like a babbling brook.
She was “running on’ this No-
vember morning, as she and young
Baldwin ate breakfast together.
Jane always got the breakfast.
Sophy, a capable Negro woman,
came over later to help with the
housework, and to put
o'clock dinner on the table.
was Jane who started the percola-
tor, poached the eggs, and made
the toast on the electric toaster,
while young Baldwin read the Wash-
ington Post. He read bits out loud
when he was in the mood. He was
not always in the mood, and then
Jane talked to him. He did not al-
ways listen, but that made no differ-
ence.
Jane had named the percolator
“Philomel,” because of its purling
harmonies,
“Don’t you love it, Baldy?”
Her brother, with one eye on the
paper, was eating his grapefruit.
“Love what?”
“Philomel."”
“Silly stuff"
“It isn’t. I like to hear it sing.”
“In my present mood I prefer a
hymn of hate.”
She buttered a slice of toast for
him. “Well, of course, you'd feel
like that.”
“Who wouldn't?” He took the
toast from her, and buried himself
in his paper, so Jane buttered an-
other slice for herself and ate it in
protesting silence—plus a poached
egg, and a cup of coffee rich with
yellow cream and much sugar.
Jane's thinness made such indul-
gence possible,
“1 simply love breakfast,”
continued.
“Is there anything you don’t love,
Janey?’ with a touch of irritation.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“You.”
He stared at her over the top of
the sheet. “I like that!"
“Well, you won't talk to me,
Baldy. It isn't my fault if you hate
the world.”
“No, it isn't,”" He laid down the
paper. “But I'll tell you this, Janey,
I'm about through.”
She caught her breath, then flung
out, “Oh, you're not. Be a good
sport, Baldy. Things are bound to
come your way if you wait.”
He gave a short laugh and rose.
“1 wish 1 had your optimism."
“1 wish you had.”
They faced each other, looking
for the moment rather like two
young cockerels. Jane's bobbed hair
emphasized the boyish effect of her
straight, slim figure. Baldy tow-
ered above her, his black hair
matching hers, his eyes, too, match-
ing-gray and lighted-up.
Jane was the first to turn her eyes
away. She looked at the clock.
“You'll be late.”
He got his hat and coat and came
back to her. “I'm a blamed sore-
head. Give me a kiss, Jane.”
She gave it to him, and clung to
him for a moment. “Don’t forget
to bring a steak home for dinner,”
she
was all she said, but he was aware
of the caress of those clinging
fingers.
It was one of his grievances that
he had to do the marketing—one
could not depend on Sherwood’s sin-
gle small store—so Baldy with
dreams in his head drove twice a
week to the butcher's stall in the
old Center Market to bring back
chops, or a porterhouse, or a festive
small roast.
He had no time for it in the morn-
ings, however. His little car took
him over the country roads and
through the city streets and landed
him at the Patent Office at a quar-
ter of nine. There, with a half hour
for lunch, he worked until five—it
She felt poignantly the beauty of it.
was a dog's life and he had other
aspirations.
Jane, left to herself, read the pa-
per. One headline was sensational.
The bride of a fashionable wedding
bridegroom had failed to appear at
the church. The guests waiting im-
patiently in the pews had been in-
formed, finally, that the ceremony
would be postponed.
Newspaper men hunting for the
bridegroom learned that he had left
he was on his way to southern wa-
ters. The bride could not be seen.
Her uncle, who was also her guard-
ian, and with whom she lived, had
said. That was all
was on tiptoe. Delafield Simms was
the son of a rich New Yorker. He
and his bride were to have spent
their honeymoon on his yacht. Edith
Towne had a fortune to match his.
But society
aristocratic families. No wonder
people were talking.
There was a picture of Miss
Towne, a tall, fair girl, in real lace,
orange blossoms, seed pearls—,
Pride was in every line of her.
Jane's tender fancy carried her to
that first breathless moment when
the bride had donned that gracious
gown and had surveyed herself in
the mirror. “How happy she must
have been.” Then the final shudder-
ing catastrophe.
Sophy arrived at this moment,
and Jane told her about it. "She'll
never dare trust anybody, will
she?”
“Yo' kain’t ever. tell whut a wom-
an will do, Miss Janey. Effen she a
trustin’ nature, she'll trus’ and trus’,
and effen she ain’ a trustin’ nature,
she won't trus’ nohow."”
“But what do you suppose made
him do it?”
“Nobody knows whut a man's
gwine do, w'en it comes to gittin’
married.”
“But to leave her like that, Sophy.
I should think she'd die.”
“Effen the good Lord let women
die w'en men 'ceived them,” Sophy
proclaimed with a chuckle, ‘“‘dere
wouldn't be a female lef’ w'en the
trump sounded.” Her tray was piled
high with dishes, as she stood in the
dining-room door. ‘Does you-all
want rice puddin’ fo’ dinnah, Miss
Janey?”
And there the subject dropped.
But Jane thought a great deal about
it as she went on with her work.
She told her sister, Julia, about
it when, late that afternoon, she
wrote her weekly letter,
or
‘he worst of it must have been
to lose her faith in things. I'd rath-
er be Jane Barnes wethout any love
affair than Edith Towne with a love
affair like that, Baldy told me the
other day that 1 am not unattrac-
tive! Can't you see him saying it?
And he doesn't think me pretty. Per-
haps I'm not. But there are mo-
ments, Judy, when 1 like myself!
“Baldy nearly had a fit when I
bobbed my hair. But I did it and
took the consequences, and it's no
end comfortable. Baldy at the pres-
ent moment is mid-Victorian. It is
his reaction from the war. He says
he is dead sick of flappers. That
they are all alike—and make no ap-
peal to the imagination! He came
home the other night from a dance
and read Tennyson-—can you fancy
that after the way he used to fling
Amy Lowell at us and Carl Sand-
burg? He says he is so tired of short
skirts and knees and proposals and
cigarettes that he is going to hunt
with a gun, if he ever decides to
marry, for an Elaine or a Griselda!
But the worst of it is, he takes it
out on me! I wish you'd see the way
he censors my clothes and my man-
ners, and 1 sit here like a prisoner
in a tower with not a man in sight
but Evans Follette, and he is just
a heartache, Judy.
“Baldy has had three proposals;
he said that the first was stimulat-
ing, but repetition ‘staled the inter-
est’! Of course he didn’t tell me
the names of the girls. Baldy's not
a cad.
“But he is discouraged and des-
perately depressed. He has such a
big talent, Judy, and he just slaves
away at that old office. He says
that after those years in France, it
seems like a cage. 1 sometimes
wonder what civilization is,
how, that we clip the wings ‘of our
young eagles. We take our boys
and they pant
for freedom. Is that all that life is
going to mean for Baldy-—eight
hours a day-—behind bars?
“Yet I am trying to keep him at it
until the house is paid for. I don't
know whether I am right—but it's
all we have—and both of us love it.
He hasn't been able lately to work
much at night, he’s dead tired. But
there's a prize offer of a magazine
cover design, and 1 want him to
compete. He says there isn't any
use of his trying to do anything un-
less he can give all of his time to it.
“Of course you've heard all this
before, but 1 hear it every day. And
I like to talk things out. I must not
write another line, dearest. And
don't worry, Baldy will work like
mad if the mood strikes him.
“Did I tell you that Evans Follette
and his mother are to dine with us
on Thanksgiving Day? We ought to
have six guests to make things go.
But nobody will fit in with the Fol-
lettes. You know why, so 1 needn’t
explain.
‘Kiss both of the babies for me.
Failing other young things, I am go-
ing to have a Christmas tree for the
kitten. It's a gay life, darling.
“Ever your own,
“Jane.”
The darkness had by the
time had finished her letter.
She changed her frock for a thin-
ner one, wrapped herself in an old
cape of orange-hued cloth, and went
gut to lock up her chi She
had fed them before
letter, but she always
last look to be sure they
The shed where the
kept was back of the
Jane opened the door,
Merrymaid,
come
she
ckens.
he wrote her
took this
were safe.
‘hickens were
garage. When
her old Per-
came out to
puff-ball of a kitten.
the lights in the
and tt biddies
stirred. she snapped them
off again, she beard them settle
back to sheltered slur
The kitten ahead of
an the old cat danced too, as the
nd whirled her great tail about.
‘We won't go in the house—we
won't go in the house,” said Jane,
in a sort of conversational chant,
as the pussies followed her down a
path which led thre pines.
She often walk
she loved it
She
itethe
moon of the
wind at her cloak like a riotous play-
mate
Bs aldy
sian cat,
her,
Jane snapped on
chicken - house
and a
When
danced her,
felt poig
dark
above
was not the only
the family, but Jane's love of beauty
was ir ns culate. She would never
be able to write it on paper or
draw it ]
(TO BE CONTINUED)
poet in
Starting comparisons
human and animal populations are
analysis by the
American Wildlif
inventory by the
States Biological survey.
‘There are 874.000 deer in Michi-
gan alone,” points out Stanley T.
Boggess, who made the analysis for
the institute. “There are 15 states
in the Union which have fewer than
this number of human beings.”
In general it is noted the entire
trend of the big population is on
the upswing. It would be difficult
to say just how many years it has
been since the big game population
of any given state exceeded the
number of human beings in the
same area.
The state which comes nearest
this is Nevada. Nevada's 91,000
people outnumber the big game re-
ported in that state only by about
3 to 2. The five species of big game
animals resident in Nevada totals
60,875.
The state which comes nearest
the proportions indicated by these
figures is Wyoming. In that state
nine big game species total more
than 125,923. This figure represents
a sum equal to more than half of
repor ted pop ul ation.
48 states are with-
out deer, rding to this report.
A revelation which will be aston-
ishing to some, outside of Pennsyl-
is that the Keystone state,
the second most populous in the
union, also ranks second in deer
population with 700,083 reported.
California leads the western states
with 435,555 deer. The deer com-
prise more than four-fifths of the
big game of America, outnumber-
ing in population the great city of
Chicago.
In all, there are 5,160,605 big
game animals in America, or less
than one to every 25 persons re-
corded in the last census.
When one harks back to the mil-
lions of head of big game which
roamed the country 100 years ago,
these figures are but an insignificant
remnant. It is possible the ante-
lope and bison alone reached a fig-
ure over 100,000,000,
Of the 15 species enumerated in
the census only the deer seemed to
have recovered to a figure appre-
ciably near their original abund-
ance. Some of the species, notably
the big horn sheep, are still on the
decline.
acct
vania,
YOUNG PSYCHOLOGIST
An employee of the public library
between a progressive
the progressive scholar
was trying to explain the difference
between an inferiority complex and
a superiority complex to his unen-
lightened contemporary. ‘Suppose,’
he said, “I asked you if you could
jump ten feet and you said sure.
Then you'd have a superiority com-
plex. But if you said no, then you'd
have an inferiority complex.”
“What would I have,” the other boy
inquired, ‘‘if I said maybe 1 could
and maybe I couldn't?” The pro-
gressive boy pondered. “I guess,”
he remarked, “you'd have a split
personality.”
LAUGHS AT HOME
“Do you go to many amusements
these days, Bill?"
“No. Don’t have to now.
gone to wearir
cretonne vests.
My son's
1g Oxford bags and
Why Not ‘Crepe de Chine?’
man and his wife decided to
at a tearoom or cafeteria on
3 Recently some very de-
flon pie was served
next Sunday after
Mrs. Green in-
Joh nt"
her husband
all we eat today,
her amusement
t's go where they have that
good georgette pie.”
Moving De Luxe
ily was moving across
th city. When the moving men
c he small family kitten was
no where to be found. Donnie burst
into tears but a neighbor promised
to keep the kitten when it appeared
and let Mr. J pick it up the next day.
When the family arrived at their
new home, ver, and mother
opened the cabinet to get a dish tow-
el, there was the kitten fast asleep
on the pile of towels.
howes
Five Year Plan
It was during the empanelling of
a jury; the following colloquy oc-
curred:
“You are a property-holder?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Married or single?”
“l have been married for five
years, your honor."
“Have you formed or expressed
an opinion?”
“Not for five years, your honor.”
SUN STROKE
“How did he get a sun-stroke?”
"
him.
Kept Out
“If time hangs heavily on your
hands, why don't you go into pol-
“A man as rich as I am,”
dare go into politics.
card under the door with a check
attached to it.”
Turn About
“Gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Fil-
lip. "The baby has eaten a lot of
that dog biscuit!”
“Never mind, dear,” said a caller,
“jt just serves Fido right. He's
often stolen the baby's food
haven't you, Fido?”
By Comparison
Diner (after a long wait) Waiter,
have you ever visited the zoo?
Waiter-—No, sir, 1 haven't,
Diner--Well, you ought to-—you
wouldn't half enjoy watching the
tortoises whiz past,
Quick Thought
The nurse came into the library to
proclaim the good news. “It's a liv
tle boy,” she announced.
“What?” asked the absent-minded
professor. "Oh, yes, just ask him
what he wants."
CLASSIFIED
DEPARTMENT
POULTRY
BRED FOR PRODUCTION:
BRAISED FOR FROVIT:
SOLD BY QUALITY: Turkeys
BETARTED CHICKS: Puliels
MILFORD HATCHERY Jj thine Ma.
Ducks
Chicks
Showing the Latest
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How Women
in Their 40’s
Can Attract Men
Here's good advice for a woman during her
change (usually from 38 to 62), who fears
she'll lose her appeal to men, who worries
about hot Sashes, loss of pep, dizzy spells,
upset perves and moody sg polis,
Get more fresh air, 8 hrs. sieep and # you
need & good general system tonic take Lydia
E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound, made
expecially for women. It helps Nature build
up physical resistance, thus helps give more
vivacity to emjoy life and amsist calming
Jittery nerves and disturbing symptoms that
often sccompa change of life, WELL
WORTH TRYING!
Motto of Quarrels
Weakness on both sides, as we
all know, is the motto of all quar-
rels.—Voltaire.
©OT VeTont ~ Cando
he Wilinot sail or injure si
Lasts all eesson, 20 "
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$50 re Knits Ave. B MIAN. Y
TE 284 IN
For the Cause
It is the cause and not the death,
that makes the martyr.—Napo-
leon.
OR SPREAD ON ROOSTS
You find them announced in
the columns of this paper by
merchants of our community
who do not feel they must keep
the quality of their merchan-
dise or Piices wheat cover.
It is safe to bu
chant who A VERTISEE.