%
L
'CHAPTER XV—Continued
— me
Then Eloise and Edith came in,
and presently the men, and Lucy
and Del from a trip to the small
porkers, and Adelaide going out with
Del to dinner was uncomfortably
aware that Jane had either artlessly
or artfully refused to discuss with
her the women who had been loved
by Frederick Towne!
The dinner was
farm products,” Delafield boasted.
Even the fish, it seemed, he had
caught that morning, motoring over
to the river and bringing them back
to be split and broiled and served
with little new potatoes. There was
chicken and asparagus, small cream
cheeses with the salad, heaped-up
berries in a Royal Worcester bowl,
roses from the garden. ‘All home-
grown,” said the proud new hus-
band.
Jane ate with little appetite. She
had refused to discuss with Adelaide
the former heart affairs of her be-
trothed, but the words rang in her
ears, ‘“The women that Ricky has
loved.”
Jane was young. And to youth,
love is for the eternities. The
thought of herself as one of a suc-
cession of Dulcinens was degrading.
She was restless and unhappy. It
was useless to assure herself that
Towne had chosen her above all the
rest. She was not sophisticated
enough to assume that it is, per-
haps, better to be a man's last love
than his first. That Towne had made
it possible for any woman to speak
of him as Adelaide spoke, seemed
to Jane to drag her own relation to
him in the dust.
The strength of the wind in-
creased. The table was sheltered
by the house, but at last Delafield
decided, “We'd better go in. The
rain is coming. We can have our
coffee in the hall.”
Their leaving had the effect of a
stampede. Big drops splashed into
the plates. The men servants and
maids scurried to the rescue of
china and linen.
The draperies of the women
streamed in the wind. Adelaide's
tulle was a banner of green and
blue. The peacock came swiftly up
the walk, crying raucously, and
found a sheltered spot beneath the
steps.
From the wide hall, they saw the
rain in silver sheets. Then the doors
were shut against the beating wind.
They drank their coffee, and
bridge tables were brought in. There
were enough without Jane to form
two tables. And she was glad. She
wandered into the living-room and
curled herself up in a window-seat.
The window opened on the porch.
Beyond the white pillars she could
see the road, and the rain-drenched
garden.
After
delicious. ‘Our
a' time the rain stoppel,
and the world showed clear as crys-
tal against the opal brightness of
the western sky. The peacock came
out of his hiding-place, and dragged
a long, heavy tail over the sodden
lawn.
It was cool and the air was sweet.
Jane lay with her head against a
cushion, looking out. She was lonely
and wished that Towne would come.
Perhaps in his presence her doubts
would vanish. It grew dark and
darker. Jane shut her eyes and at
last she fell asleep.
She was waked by Towne’s voice.
He was on the porch. ‘Where is
everybody?”
It was Adelaide who answered
him. “They have motored into Alex-
andria to the movies. Eloise would
have it. But I stayed—waiting for
you, Ricky.”
“Where's Jane?”
“She went up-stairs early. Like
a sleepy child.”
Jane heard his laugh.
child—a darling child.”
Then in the darkness Adelaide
said, “Don’t, Ricky."
“Why not?”
“Do you remember that once
upon a time you called me—a dar-
ling child?”
“Did 1? Well, perhaps you were.
You are certainly a very charming
woman.”
Jane, listening breathlessly, as-
sured herself that of course he was
polite. He had to be.
Adelaide was speaking. ‘So you
are going to make the announcement
tomorrow?”
YX “Who told you?”
“Edith.”
“Well, it seemed best, Adelaide.
The wedding day isn’t far off-and
the world will have to know it.”
A hushed moment, theg, ‘Ch,
Ricky, Ricky!”
“Adelaide!
that.”
“I can’t help it. You are going
out of my life. And you've always
been so strong, and big, and brave.
No other man will ever match you.”
When he spoke, his voice had a
new and softer note, ‘I didn’t dream
it would hurt you.”
“You might have known."
The lightning flickering along the
horizon showed Adelaide standing
beside Towne's chair
“Ricky” — the whispered words
reached Jane--''kiss me once—to
say ‘good-by.’ ”
“She is a
Don’t take it like
CHAPTER XVI
Young Baldwin Barnes, on Satur-
day morning, ate breakfast alone in
the little house. He read his paper
and drank his coffee. But the savor
of things was gone. He missed
Jane. Her engaging chatter, the
spirited challenge, even the small ir-
ritations. ‘“‘She is such a darling-
dear,” was his homesick meditation.
Oh, a man needed a woman on
the other side of the table. And
when Jane was married, what then?
Edith!
Oh, if he might! If Philomel might
sing for her! Toast and poached
eggs! Nectar and ambrosia! His
little house a castle!
“But it isn’t mine own,” the young
poet reminded himself; ‘‘there is
still the mortgage.” He came down
to earth, cleared the table, fed the
pussy-cats. Then he went down to
the post-box to get the mail.
The Barnes’ mail was rarely vo-
luminous, rarely interesting. A bill
or two, a letter from Judy—some
futile advertising stuff.
This morning, however, there was
a long envelope. In one corner was
the name of the magazine to which,
nearly six months before, Baldy had
sent his prize cover design. The
Towne, riding like mad along
the Virginia roads.
thoughts. He had long ceased to
hope. Money did not miraculously
fall into one's lap.
He tore open the envelope. With-
in was a closely typed letter and a
pale pink check.
The check was for two thousand
dollars. He had won the prize!
Breathless with the thought of it,
deprived of strength, he sat down
on the terrace steps. Merrymaid
and the kitten came down and an-
gled for attention, but Baldy over-
looked them utterly. The letter
was astounding. The magazine had
not only given him the prize but they
wanted more of his work. They
would pay well for it—and if he
would come to New York at their
expense, the art editor would like to
talk it over!
Baldy, looking up from the preg-
nant phrases and catching Merry-
maid's eye upon him, demanded,
“Now, what do you think of that?
Shall I resign from the office? I'll
tell the world, I will.”
Oh, the thing might even make it
possible for him to marry Edith.
He could at least pay for the honey-
moon—-preserve some sense of per-
sonal independence while he worked
towards fame. If she would only
see it. That he must ask her to live
for a time—in the little house. He'd
make things easy for her—oh, well,
the thing could be done-—it could be
done,
He flew up the steps on the wings
of his delight. He would ride like
the wind to Virginia--find Edith in a
rose-garden, fling himself at her
feet Declare his good fortune! And
he would see her eyes!
Packing his bag, he decided to
stop in Washington, and perpetrate
a few extravagances. Something for
Edith. Something for Jane. Some-
thing for himself. There would be
no harm in looking his best ,
He arrived at Grass Hills in time
for lunch. His little flivver came up
the drive as proudly as a limou-
sine. And Baldy descending was
a gay and gallant figure. There was
no one in sight but the servants who
took his bag, and drove his car
around to the garage. A maid in
rose linen said that Mr. and Mrs.
Simms were at the stables. Miss
Towne was on the links with the
other guests, and would return from
the Country Club in time for lunch
at two o'clock. Miss Barnes was
up-stairs. Her head had ached, and
she had had her breakfast in bed.
“Will you let her know that I am
here?"
The maid went up and came down
to say that Miss Barnes was in the
second gallery—and would he go
right up.
The second gallery looked out
over the river. Jane lay in a long
chair. She was pale, and there were
shadows under her eyes.
“Oh, look here, Janey,” Baldy
blurted out, “is it as bad as this?”
“I'm just—lazy."”” She sat up and
kissed him. Then buried her face in
his coat and wept silently.
“For heaven's sake, Jane,’”’ he pat-
ted her shoulder, ‘‘what’s the mat-
ter?"
“I want to go home.”
He looked blank. “Home?”
“Yes.” She stopped crying.
“Baldy, something has happened—
and I've got to tell you." Tensely,
with her hands clasped about her
knees, she rehearsed for him the
scene between Adelaide and Fred-
erick Towne. And when she finished
she said, ‘I can't marry him.”
“Of course not. A girl like you.
You’d be miserable. And that's the
end of it.”
“Utterly miserable.” She stared
before her. Then presently she went
on. ‘I stayed up-stairs all the morn-
ing. Lucy and Edith have been
perfect dears. I think Edith lays it
to the announcement of my engage-
ment tonight. That I was dread-
ing it. Of course it mustn't be an-
nounced, Baldy.”
He stood up, sternly renouncing |
his dreams. ‘Get your things on,
Jane, and I'll take you home. You
can't stay here, of course. We can
decide later what it is best to do.”
“I don’t see how I can break it off,
He's done so much for us. I can’t
ever—pay him-—"' i
In Baldy's pocket was the pink |
slip. He took it out and handed it |
to his sister. ‘Jane, 1 got the prize.
Two thousand dollars.”
‘*“Baldy!" Her tone was incredu-
lous.
He had no joy in the announce-
ment. The thing had ceased to mean |
freedom—it had ceased to mean—
Edith. It meant only one thing at
the moment, to free Jane from bond- |
age.
He gave Jane the letter and she |
read it. “It is your great oppor- |
tunity.”
“Yes."” He refused to discuss that
aspect of it. “And it comes in the |
nick of time for you, old dear.”
Their flight was a hurried one. A |
note for Lucy and one for Towne.
A note for Edith!
Jane was not well was the reason
given their hostess. The note to |
Towne said more than that. And
the note left for Edith was-—renun-
ciation.
Edith coming home to luncheon
the note in her room. All!
the morning she had been filled with
glorious anticipation. Baldy would
arrive in a few hours. Together |
they would walk down that trellised
coping. She would
trail her hand through the water. |
Further than that she would not let
her imagination carry her. It was |
enough that she would see him in |
that magic place with his air of
golden youth.
But she was not to see him, for
the note said:
“Beloved—I make no excuse for
calling you that because I say it|
always in my heart-—Jane has made
up her mind that she cannot marry
your uncle. So we are leaving at
once.
“I can’t tell you what the thought
of these two days with you meant
to me. And now I must give them
up. Perhaps I must give you up,
I don’t know. I came with high
hopes. 1 go away without any hope |
at all. But I love you.” |
SAN JOSE, CALIF.—If you see
your neighbor lock his wife in a
trunk and walk nonchalantly away,
don’t call the police.
Even if the neighbor returns with
an armful of swords and begins
stabbing the trunk in murderous
frenzy, think twice before scream-
ing.
The chances are your neighbor is
merely one of the growing legion of
Americans who fancies himself as
a magician and that--Jike nine-
tenths of them-—he uses his wife as
an assistant,
The job is a bit hard on the little
woman. Owing partly to the influ-
ence of the late Harry Houdini,
the escape artist, magic nowadays
involves being handcuffed, sewn up
in a sack, locked into a medieval
pillory, nailed up in a packing box
or having one's head apparently
lopped off by a guillotine.
A slender and good-looking girl
may even look forward to being
sawed in half,
Magic has had its followers as far
back as history goes, but it has taken
modern industrial methods to put it
in reach of everybody. The butcher
or baker who wants to astound his
friends at a Saturday night party
can buy an illusion, paraphernalia
and instructions, as casually as he
buys a package of cigarets,
From a playing card that changes
its spots to a big frame from which
Edith read the note twice, then
put it to her lips. She hardly dared
admit to herself the keenness of
her disappointment.
She stood for a long time at the
window looking out. Why had Jane
decided not to mariy Uncle Fred-
erick? What had happened since
yesterday afternoon?
From Edith's window she could
see the south lawn. The servants
were arranging a buffet luncheon.
Little tables were set around-—and
wicker chairs. Adelaide, tall and
fair, in her favorite blue and a broad
black hat stood by one of the little
tables. She was feeding the pea-
cock with bits of bread. She made
a picture, and’ Towne's window
faced that way.
“l wonder—'" Edith said, and
stopped. She remembered coming
in from the movies the night be-
fore and finding Adelaide and Towne
out on the porch. And where was
Jane?
Towne did not eat lunch. He
pleaded important business, and had
his car brought around. But every-
body knew that he was following
Jane. Mystery was in the air. Ade-
laide was restless. Only Edith knew
the truth.
After lunch, she told Lucy. “Jane
isn't going to marry Uncle Fred. 1
don't know why. But I am afraid
that it is breaking up ycur house
party.”
“1 hope it is,” said Lucy, calmly.
“Delafield bored to He
wants to get back to his
roses. 1 speaking
you because I know yot t
I want our lives to be bigger and
broader than they would have been
i as for you"
‘you'll
goddess bless-
is death.
am
n't met, Ar
shook a
¢
a
if we ha
—her voice
always be a sort
ing our hearth.”
Edith bent and kissed her
tion gripping her,
blessed without me,
I'll always be glad to come.’
Towne, riding like mad along the
Virginia roads, behind the
tent Briggs, pondered over Jane's
little—*
emo-
rth is
“but
'
HY rine Sains
Iour nea
she said,
’
OM DE
compe
*“l was not up-stairs
when you came. I was
last night
asleep in
just off the porch. And your voice
and 1 heard what you
and Mrs. Laramore. And 1
marry you. I know how much
you've done for me—and 1 shall
said,
"
Enclosed was a pink check.
Towne blamed Adelaide furious-
y. Of course it was her fault, Such
oolishness. And sentimentality.
Yet, as he cooled a bit, he was
glad that Jane had showed her re-
It was in keeping with
Her innocence
too, be a hint
Women were like that.
There might,
tion.
Jealous.
As they whirled through Washing-
meet a cop it will be all up with us,
Mr. Towne.”
“Take a chance,
her more gas.
er
Briggs. Give
We've got to get
With all their speed, however, it
was four o'clock when they reached
Sherwood. Towne was still in the
clothes he had worn on the links.
He had not eaten since breakfast.
He felt the strain.
He stormed up the terrace, where
once he had climbed in the snow.
He rang the bell. It whirred and
whirred again in the silence. The
house was empty.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Fad in the U. S.
a live horse disappears into thin air
~everything’'s available. His pock-
etbook is the only limit.
It's a rare city that hasn't one or
more clubs where magicians meet
“The Name
Is Familiar—
BY
FELIX B. STREYCKMANS
and ELMO SCOTT WATSON
Pullman Cars
N 1858,
man spent $2,000 making over two
latest tricks.
cians attracted 300 persons. Dele-
inventions.
the general public.
since the government has not writ-
ten it into the criminal code the
worst penalty that can be inflicted
is ostracism by one’s fellow per-
formers,
Mexicans Like Cockfights
Next to bullfighting, the most ex-
citing sport in Mexico is cockfight
ing. Because of the intense excite.
ment that prevails at cockfights,
the sport is forbidden in the federal
district, making it necessary for en-
thusiasts to go to outlying towns.
As soon as the birds are in the ring
bettors arrange their wagers orally.
But the doors are not opened after
the fight until all bets are paid,
by wood-burning stoves and lighted
by candles—but they had the ar-
rangement of upper and
berths characteristic of Pullman
cars today.
Those two were
the first sleeping
cars in the histo-
ry of railroading
and they were
a success. Then,
George Pullman
(by the is
that why they call
Pullman porters
“*George’’?)
anyway, George
Pullman then
spent $20,000 to
build a sleeping car entirely from
his own specifications. It was ex-
pensively decorated and luxurious
besides being longer, higher, wider
and heavier than any other railroad
car. But just like the young man
who built a in his basement
and then couldn't get it out a door
or window, Pullman discovered that
his big luxury car was wide
for station platforms and too high
for bridges.
For
way,
boat
too
several vears the
hen Abra
assinated, re
ass Pdi
als decided Pullman's
Mercerized
W HEN you buy a shirt and the
sales clerk tells you it is mer-
cerized naturally, you
pressed. 3ut do you
what it means?
Mercerized clo
been treated by
ime
know
are
really
ess the
the cloth takes
dyes more bril-
liantly and has a
greater luster.
There seems to
be some mis
understanding
among the ex-
peris to what
brings about this luster. The 1928-32
edition of the Encyclopedia Brittani-
ca says, ‘Considerable change in
the appearance of the cross section
of the cotton fiber is effected by
mercerizing it. It is especially no-
ticeable that the fibers appear more
rounded.” And here is what the 1919
edition of The Americana says:
“_ . . mercerizing gives a luster to
the cotton cloth because its fibers
are drawn closer and flattened, pre-
senting a smooth surface that re-
flects the light.”
John Mercer
as
being that far apart, we are not go-
ing into the matter further. Flat or
round, John Mercer of Lancashire
invented the process almost
years ago.
* * .
Booze
ago it was a Booz bottle.
man they were named for.
hip flask, selling his whiskey in flat,
main home on a
shelf.
Then, to distin-
guish his own
brand of liquor,
he made all his
bottles in unusual
ghapes and they
became famous
and were known
by his name-—
Booz bottles.
After he died
his type of bottle
was not continued but the phrase
Booz bottle was kept up and gradu-
ally came to mean any whiskey bot-
tle and the contents soon was known
as “Booz,” then as ‘‘booze.”
There are several original Booz
bottles still in existence in America
today, mainly in the hands of col
Jectors. All of them, however, are
empty.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
| Our Old-Time Couch
Is Made Streamline
By RUTH WYETH SPEARS
AS there a couch like the pic-
| ture at the top of this sketch,
| in the family ‘‘sitting room’’ when
| you were a child? Let's get it
| down from the attic, for just see
what can be done with it! Proper-
| ly streamlined it will look like the
| middle picture.
| First paint the front of frame;
| then cover well up onto the head
{ portion with cotton batting; next
| use bright cotton upholstery ma-
Remove stuffing at high
TS MAKE BOX TABLES 10 COVER |
(Ls » PHN greg gm men, ENDS
CP AFA
RE vl enndiamdimsilmenmsnntmsnib ome 7
PADDING La
[7 ml (A)
ve, hn FABRIC OVER £7:
Few + lcotTon BATTING, | Jr
rn de
“r
end. Now
bles
y
vy
dotted lines |i ate how
couch fits under these box tables
and how a partition and shelves
are put in the one at the lower
end. Paint tables to harmonize
with fabric. The final is
the back and end cushions cov-
ered with the upholstery material.
NOTE: Full directions for
changing an old iron bed into the
latest style, are, given Mrs.
Spears’ Book No. 3; also step-by-
step directions for n
Rug That Grew Up Witl
1 #5 TY ;
touch
in
Wise and Otherwise
THROAT
Has 8 cold made it hurt
even to talk? Throat rough
and scratchy? Get a box of
Luden’s. You'll ind Loden's j #8
special ingredients, with,
cooling menthol, a great
aid in helping soothe that
“sandpeper throat!"
LUDEN’S 5¢
Menthol Cough Drops
Hollow Glory
The paths of glory lead but to
the grave.
One way to treat constipation is
to endure it first and “cure” it
afterward. The other way is to
avoid having it by getting at its
cause. So why not save yourself
those dull headachy days, pins
the inevitable trips to the medi-
cine chest, if you can do it by a
simple common-sense “ounce of
prevention”?
If your trouble, like that of
millions, is due to lack of “bulk”
in the diet, “the better way” is to
eat Kellogg's All-Bran. This
crunchy, toasted, ready-to-eat
cereal has just the “bulk™ you
need. If you eat it regulariy—and
drink plenty of water—you can
not only pet regular but keep
regular, day after day and month
after month! All-Bran is made
by Kellogg's in Battle Creek. If
your condition is chronic, it is
\= to consult a physician. wv
3—40
WNU-—-4
Strength From Cause
A good cause maketh a strong
arm.
TEE UE
with backache ?