SYNOPSIS Young, pretty Jane Barnes, who lved with her brother, Baldwin, in Sherwood Park, near Washington, was not particularly impressed when she read that rich, attrac tive Edith Towne had been left at the altar by Delafield Simms, wealthy New Yorker, However, she still mused over it when she met Evans Follette, a young neighbor, whom the war had left completely discour- aged and despondent. Evans had always loved Jane. That morning Baldwin Barnes, on his way to work in Washington, offered assistance to a tall, lovely girl in distress, CHAPTER II—Continued ne When at last Baldy drew up at the little way station, and unfastened the curtain, he was aware that she had opened the suede bag and had a roll of bills in her hand. For a moment his heart failed him. Was she going to offer him money? But what she said, with cheeks flaming, was: ‘‘I haven't anything less than ten dollars. Do you think they will take it?" “It's doubtful. I have oodles of change.”” He held out a handful. ‘““Thank you so much, and-—you must let me have your card" “Oh, please—"' Her voice had an edge of sharp- ness. ‘Of course it must be a loan.” He handed her his card in silence. She read the name. “Mr. Barnes, you have been very kind. I am tremendously grateful.” “It was not kindness—but now and then a princess passes.” For a breathless moment her amazed glance met his—then the clang of a bell heralded an ap- proaching car. As he helped her out hurriedly she stumbled over the rug. He caught her up, lifted her to the ground, and motioned to the motor- man. The car stopped and she mounted the steps. ‘“‘Good-by, and thank you so much.” He stood back and she waved to him while he watched her out of sight. His work at the office that morn- ing had dreams for an accompani- ment. He went out at lynch-time but ate nothing. It was at lunch- time that he bought the violets—pay- ing an unthinkable price for them, and not caring. It was after office that Baldy car- ried the flowers to his car. He set the box on the back seat. In the hurry of the morning he had for- gotten the rug which still lay where his fair passenger had stumbled over it. He picked it up and some- thing dropped from its folds. It was the gray suede bag, half open, and showing the roll of bills. Beneath the roll of bills was a small sheer handkerchief, a vanity case with a pinch of powder and a wee puff, a new check-book—and, negligently at the very bottom, a ring—a ring of such enchantment that as it lay in Baldy's hand, he doubted its reality. The hoop was of platinum, slender, yet strong enough to bear up a carved moonstone in a circle of dia- monds. The carving showed a deli- cate Psyche—with a butterfly on her shoulder. The diamonds blazed like small suns. Inside the ring was an inscrip- tion—*'Del to Edith—Forever.” Del to Edith? Where had he seen those names? With a sudden flash of illumination, he dropped the ring back into the bag, stuffed the bag in his pocket, and made his way to a newsboy at the corner. There it was in startling head- lines: Edith Towne Disappears. Del- afield Simms’ Yacht Said to Have Been Sighted Near Norfolk! So his ‘passenger had been the much-talked-about Edith Towne— deserted at the moment of her mar- riage! He thought of her eyes of burning blue—the fairness of her skin and hair—the touch of haughtiness. Simms was a cur, of course! He should have knelt at her feet! The thing to do was to get the bag back to her. He must adver- tise at once. On the wings of this decision, his car whirled down the Avenue. The lines which, after much deliberation, he pushed across the counter of the newspaper office, would be ambiguous to others, but clear to her. “Will passenger who left bag with valuable contents in the car call up Sherwood Park 49.” “Is she really as beautiful as that?” Jane demanded. “As what?" “Her picture in the paper.” ““Haven’t I said enough for you to know it?” Jane nodded. “Yes. But it doesn’t sound real to me. Are you sure you didn’t dream it?" “I'll say 1 didn't. Isn't that the proof?” The gray bag lay on the table .in front of them, the ring was on Jane's finger, She turned it to catch the light. “Baldy,” she said, “it's beyond imagination.” “I told you--"" ‘ of having a ring like this--"" “Think,” fiercely, “of having a lover who ran away.” “Well,” said Jane, “there are some sought. Dee— “I care for nobody— No, not I, Since nobody Cares— For me—!" She sang it with a light boyish swing of her body. Her voice was girlish and sweet, with a touch of huskiness. Baldy flung his scorn at her. “Jane, aren't you ever. in earnest?” “Intermittently,’”” she smiled at him, came over and tucked her arm in his. “Baldy,” she coaxed, ‘aren't you going to tell her un- cle?” He stared at her. Tell him what?” “That you've found the bag.” He flung off her arm. “Would you have me turn traitor?” “Heavens, Baldy, this isn't melo- drama. It's common sense. You can't keep that bag.” “lI can keep it until she answers my advertisement.” “She may never see your adver- tisement, and the money isn't yours, and the ring isn’t.” He was troubled. “But she trust- ed me. I can’t do it.” Jane shrugged her shoulders, and began to clear away the din- advantages in being—un- I'm like the Miller-ess of “Her uncle? Towne's tone showed a touch of irritation. ner things. Baldy helped her. Old Merrymaid mewed to go out, and Jane opened the door. “It's snowing hard,” she said. The wind drove the flakes across the threshold. Old Merrymaid danced back into the house, bright- eyed and round as a muff. The air was freezing. “It is going to be a dreadful night,” young Baldwin, heavy with gloom, prophesied. He thought of Edith in the storm in her buckled shoes. Had she found shelter? Was she frightened and alone somewhere in the dark? He went into the living-room, whence Jane presently followed him. Jane was knitting a sweater and she worked while Baldy read to her. He read the full account of Edith Towne’'s flight. She had gone away early in the morning. The maid, taking her breakfast up to her, had found the room empty. She had left a note for her uncle. But he had not permitted its publi- cation, He was, they said, wild with anxiety. “I'll bet he’s an old tyrant,” was Baldy's comment. Frederick Towne's picture was in the paper. ‘1 like his face,” said Jane, “and he doesn’t seem so frightfully old.” “Why should she run away from him, if he wasn’t a tyrant?” he de- manded furiously. “Well, don’t scold me.” Jane was as vivid as an oriole in the midst of her orange wools. She loved color. The living-room was an expression of it. Its furni- ture was old-fashioned but not old- fashioned enough to be lovely. Jane had, however, modified its lack of grace and its dull monotonies by covers of chintz — tropical birds against black and white stripes— and there was a lamp of dull blue pottery with a Chinese shade. A fire in the coal grate, with the glow of the lamp, gave the room a look of burnished brightness. The kitten, curled up in Jane's lap, played coz- ily with the tawny threads. “Don’t scold me,” said Jane, “it isn't my fault.” “I'm not scolding, but I'm worried to death. And you aren't any help, are you?" She looked at him in astonish- ment. “I've tried to help. I told you to call up.” Young Baldwin walked the floor. “She trusted me.” “You won't get anywhere with that,” said Jane with decision. “The thing to do is to tell Mr, Towne that you have news of her, and that you'll give it only under promise that he won't do anything until ke has talked it over with you.” “That sounds better,” said young Baldwin; “how did you happen to think of it?” ‘Now and then,” said Jane, “I have ideas.” Baldy went to the telephone. When he came back his eyes were like gray moons. “He promised every- thing, and he's coming out—"" “Here?” “Yes, he wouldn't wait until to- morrow. He's wild about her—'* “Well, he would be.” Jane men- tally surveyed the situation. “Baldy, I'm going to make some coffee, and have some cheese and crackers.” “He may not want them.” “On a cold night like this, say he will; anybody would.” Baldy helped Jane get out the round-bellied silver pot, the pitchers and tray. The young people had a sense of complacency as they han- dled the old silver. Frederick Towne could have nothing of more distin- guished history. It had belonged to their great-grandmother, Dabney, who was really D’Aubigne, and it had graced an emperor's table, Each piece had a monogram set in an engraved wreath. The big tray was so heavy that Jane lifted it with difficulty, so Baldy set it for her on the little mahogany table which they drew up in front of the fire. There was no wealth now in the Barnes family, but the old silver spoke of a time when a young host- ess as black-haired as Jane had dispensed lavish hospitality. Frederick Towne had not expect- ed what he found-—the little house set high on its terraces seemed to give from its golden-lighted window squares a welcome in the dark. “I shan’t be long, Briggs,’ he said to his chauffeur. “Very good, sir,” said Briggs, and led the way up the terrace. Baldy ushered Towne into the liv- ing-room, and Frederick, standing I'u ness which reminded him of nothing some old English magazine. There was the coal grate, the table drawn up to the fire, the twinkling silver on its massive tray, violets in a low vase—and rising to meet him a slen- orange wool behind her. I present Mr. Towne?" and Jane very good of you." He found himself unexpectedly gracious. He was not always gra- cious. be. A man with money and posi- tion had to shut himself up some- times in a shell of reserve, lest he be imposed upon. he expanded. “What a charming room,” he said, and smiled at her. Jane felt perfectly at ease with him. He was, after all, she reflect. ed, only a gentleman, and Baldy was that. The only difference lay in their divergent incomes. So, as the two men talked, she knitted on, with the outward effect of placidity. “Do you want me to go?" she had asked them, and Towne had re- plied promptly, “Certainly not. There's nothing we have to say that you can't hear.” So Jane listened with all her ears, and modified the opinion she had formed of Frederick Towne from his picture and from her first glimpse of him. He was nice to talk to, but he might be hard to live with, He had obstinacy and egotism. “Why Edith should have done it amazes me.” “She was hurt,” she said, “and she wanted to hide.” “But people seem to think that in some way it is my fault. I don’t like that. It isn't fair. We've al- ways been the best of friends—more like brother and sister than niece and uncle.” “But not like Baldy and me,” said Jane to herself, ‘‘not in the least like Baldy and me.” “Of course Simms ought to be shot,” Towne told them heatedly, Baldy's amendment. Jane's needles clicked, but she these bloodthirsty males what shéd thought of them. it do to shoot Delafield Simms? A woman's hurt pride isn't to be healed by the thought of a man's dead body. Young Baldwin brought out the bag. ‘It is one that Delafield gave her,” Frederick stated, cashed a check for her at the bank the day before the wedding. her.” ‘She probably off; her mind forgot to take it osity. “What was it on?" **Oh, her heart was broken. Noth- ing else mattered. Jane swept them back to the mat- ter of the bag. ought to have it, Mr. Towne, but Baldy had scruples about revealing anything he knows about Miss Towne's hiding place. He feels that she trusted him.” “You said you had advertised, Mr. Barnes?" "Yes" “Well, the one thing is to get her home. Tell her that if she calls tired and old. gazed down at him. “It's hard to de- cide what 1 ought to do. But I feel that I'm right in giving her a tisement."” Towne's tone showed a touch of “Of course you'll have to act as you think best.” And now Jane took things in her own hands. “Mr. Towne, I'm going “I shall be very grateful,” he What a charming This boy and girl were a His own house, since Edith’'s depar- had been funereal, and his friends had been divided in their Edith. But the young Barneses were little air one with them. Edith had always seemed to put on the shelf. With little Jane and her brother he ly “may 1 tell you all about it? It To Jane it was a thrilling mo- ment. Having poured the coffee, she came out from behind her bat- tlement of silver and sat in her chintz chair. She did not knit: she was enchanted by the Towne was telling. She sat very still, her hands folded, the tropical birds about her. seemed like a bird herself—slim sang! here was no artfulness. truth, nor even half of it. (TO BE CONTINUED) Lions that walk tightropes and seals that ride horseback are two of the latest attractions produced by crack animal trainers. In the cir- cus world new bags of tricks are necessary every year or so, and now that motion pictures are de- manding wild animals to do tasks that seem almost miraculous, train- ers are educating their animals to perform stunts of which no one dreamed before. Teaching a lion to walk two sway- ing tightropes high in the air seems like & nearly impossible task until an experienced trainer tells how he does it, says Popular Mechanics Magazine. Charles Gay, who has a tightrope-walking lion at his lion farm at El Monte, Calif., starts to teach his cubs tricks when they are nine months old, after their trainers have gained their trust through frequen: petting and feed- g. “Teaching a lion to walk the tight- rope about six months of steady training,’ says Gay. ‘We start with a wide plank 10 feet on supports a few feet off the . We tempt the animal to walk this plank by leading it with a piece of meat. After it has ing, we remove a central support, allowing the plank to bounce and sway under the animal's weight. “Next we substitute two narrow planks for the wide one, gradually training the lion to walk the nar- rower planks until he finds himself walking a couple pieces of two- by-four planks, e next step is to substitute one and one-quarter- inch iron pipes, then thick steel cables which the lion can grasp with his non-skid pads, and finally the smaller cables on which he per- forms his act. “During all this time we gradual. ly lengthen and heighten the sup- ports so the animal finally learns to walk ropes 20 or 30 feet long that may be 20 feet in the air. Dur- ing the first part of the training the lion may take an occasional spill, 80 we use a pile of wood shavings under the planks as a safety mat.” George Eliot's Country Visitors to Staffordshire in Eng- land find it is the Loamshire of George Eliot's novels. Ellastone is the “Haysthorpe’” of Adam Bede, childhood can be seen there, fig 1 (A A LONG TIME A Negro clergyman, in one of his sermons, exclaimed to his congre- gation: “Eternity! the meaning of that word? It is atop of that. You it wouldn't begin to tell how many ages long eternity is. Why, my friends, after millions and tril- eternity, it would still be a hundred ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP SPOILED ge — og puss i - Ads N He—So you've seen very little of our friend Smith since I've been away from town? She — Very little Brown. He—How's that? You seemed such great friends. She—Yes—but I married him, you know, indeed, Mr. — News Enough A man driving along a country road saw the roof of a farmhouse ablaze. He shouted wildly to the woman standing calmly in the door- way: ‘‘Hey, your house is on fire!” “What?” “Your house is on fire,” a little louder. “What? I'm a little deaf.” “Your house is on fire!" at the top of his voice. “Is that all?” “Well, it's all I can think of at the moment.” Variety Welcomed Diner—1 want to make a com- plaint about a waiter. Proprietor—I'm glad to hear that. Diner--Glad? Proprietor—Yes, glad. You see it's a relief to hear a complaint that isn't about the food. Big Business Panhandler—Say, buddy, could you spare me a buck for coffee? Dinocan—What, a dollar for cof- fee? You shouldn't drink so much coffee. Panhandler—Daon’t try to tell me how to run my business; either come across or say ‘‘Nothin’ doin'.” Misnomer A bright, but rather unprepos- sessing little girl overheard one of the neighbors say that she was “homely.” “I'm not either ‘homely,’ ” she de- nied to a playmate. *I hardly ever "er CALLED FROM THE ROOM Mother—That visitor of yours doesn’t seem to be able to take his leave. Bored Maiden—Why, mother, the poor simp can’t even take a hint. Umbrella Fad Jane—1 see that you and Ethel carry a gentleman's umbrella. Are you following the famous Chamber- lain fashion? Winnie—Yes, dear. 1 reckon it's our duty to keep our “‘powder’ dry! Too True “But, my good man,” said Mrs. Smith, dubiously, to the tramp at her door, “your story has such a hollow ring.” “Yes, ma'am. That's the natural result of speaking with an empty stomach.” New Office Bo) ve added these figures up eig es, . Boss--That’s very good and thor New Office Boy-—And here are the eight results, Unselfish Youth Jeanttie~ Why don't you eat your a Sandy ; «I'm waiting for Jock Smith to come along. Apples taste much better if there's another boy looking on. @® A General Quiz The Questions 1. Here is the first line of a well- poem: “lI could not love dear, so much.” Can you 2. What country the is known as White Ele- 3. What is the greatest depth in 4. An Andalusian is a native of 5. Which is smaller, an atom or an electron? 6. What does the nautical term “dead reckoning’ mean? 7. Why are Pullman porters gen- erally called “George’? The Answers 1. “Loved 1 not honor more.” 2. Siam is known as “The Land of the White Elephant.” 3. Nearly 5% miles (28,680 feet), north of Puerto Rico and Hispan~ ola, 4, Spain. 5. An electron is smaller than an atom. 6. A method of ascertaining the approximate position of a vessel from the course steered and the distance covered when the heaven- ly bodies of light are obscured. 7. Proba from the name of George M. Pullman, builder of the first Pullman cars. MPARTIAL laboratory tests of 16 of the largest-selling brands show which one of them gives the most actual smoking per pack, The find- ings were: CAMELS were found to contain MORE TOBACCO BY WEIGHT than the average for the 15 other of the largest-selling brands, CAMELS BURNED SLOWER THAN ANY OTHER BRAND TESTED — 25% SLOWER THAN THE AVERAGE TIME OF THE 15 OTHER OF THE LARGEST-SELL- ING BRANDS! By burning 25% slower, on the average, Camels give smokers the equivalent of 5 EXTRA SMOKES PER PACK! In the same tests, CAMELS HELD THEIR ASH FAR LONGER than the average time for all the other brands, Yes, Camel's fine, slow-burning, more expensive tobaccos do make a aroma...smoking pleasure at its best, and more of it! The quality cigarette
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers