Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 167, Indianapolis, Marion County, 22 November 1922 — Page 8

8

A Hoosier Chronide By MEREDITH NICHOLSON First Novel in thè Times Series of Fiction Stories by Indiana Writers fCopyrlsfct. 1613, by Mereditb Nlcholson.)

S¥XOFSI> STI.VU GARRÌ SuN. 16-year-ol<l fimi aaufhter ot PROFESSOR ANDREW KELTON. Iffttrtr s Madison College, Montgomery. nove littlof ner lite befo-'e making her home witl I ' other than that she was bora in Se York. aa onnsn&l errai at which Sylvia fg not to know is thè mysterious risit of a etrange young man ho deiivers an unsigned letter to ber graadfather. statine an offer which he deelinea to accept. Sylvia contemplato* som* to college and 1* to make her wìth MSS. JACKSON OWES of Indianapolis, fa miliari? known by her servanti as “Miss Sally"— practlcal wkkrw wbo aoaki-g farmlnr ber business. MARIAN BASSETT. Mrs. Owens cultured and much traveled grand nleca, who is attending a Miss Warings Schoo). Marian's mcther MRS MORTON BASSETT. rra > woman'a club in Fraservtiie. and ia a prominent fisrore In thè Fetìeratxon. ADIURAL MARTIN, a retired offieer of thè Navy. his shy ìittle wlfe and Rev. John Ware of thè Atiìroctiack country. New York, old Menda of Mrs. Owen and thè professor, are dai per guest*. The conversatiti wanders IO Marian's „ father. MORTON BASSETT. poli tiri an. and to ED THATCHER. hia business associate. DB. WANDLESS. president emerltus of Madison College. Professor Kelton fafls In hta attempi to borrow $5,000 for Sylvia'* college expenses from TOM ADAMS. banker. and learns from hlm that hia stock In thè Whlte Rirer Canti erte*. of which Morton Bassett was one of thè organizers. and which he intended to rive as sccurity. is valueless. Mrs Owen ofiera u> help thè professor ftnanelallv. and aska him concernine hia granddaughter’s eariy years. She learns that he never saw his daughter KDNA, alive aster her proclaimed ttarrlag®. “Sylvla’a very quiet, but I reckon he takes everything in. It’s In her eyea that she's different. *’l should like to see Sylvia go high and far; I should like her to have Cvery chance.” “All right, Andrew; lefs do it. How mt ch does a college course cost for a girl7” “X dittai come here to Interest you hi tue money side of lt, Sally; I expected ” "Answer my question, Andrew." “1 had expected to glve her a fouryear course for $5,000. The actual tuitlon isn't so much; lt’s railroad fare, clothlng and other expenses." Mrs. Owen turned toward Kelton wltfc a amile on her kind, shrewd face. “Andrew, Just to please me. I want you to let me be partners with you In thls. My little Elizabeth wcuid be a grown woman If she's lived; and because of her I like to help other people'a little glrls; you know I helped start Elizabeth House, a hom* for working glrls—and I'm gettine my money back on that a thousand tlmes over. It’s a pretty state of thlngs if j an old woman like me, without a : chlck of my own. and with no sense ; but horse sense. can't back a likely j fllly like your Sylvia We'll train her in all thè paces, Andrew, and I hope . one of us will live to see her strike | thè home stretch. Come Into my j office a minute,” she said, rislng and j leasing thè way. The appointments of her "office” were plaìn and substantlal. A fiat- \ topped desk stood In thè middle of ? thè room—a relic of thè lamented Jackson Owen: in one corner was an old-fashioned lron safe in which she kept her account books. A print of Maud S. adorned one Wall, and faclng it across thè room hung a ilthograph of Thomas A. Hendrlcks. "You’ve seen my plcture gallery before, Andrew? Small but select. 1 knew both thè lady and thè gentleman,” she continued, with one of her humorous flashes *T went to Cleveland In 'BS to see Maud S. She ate up a mlle in 2:08% —thè prettiest thlng I ever saw. You know Bcnner bought her as a 4-year-old—thè some Bonner that owned thè 'New York Ledger. I used to read thè 'Ledger’ clear through, when Henry Ward Beecher and Fanny Fern wrote for it. None of these new maguzines j touch lt. And you knew Tom Hendrlcks? That's a good picture. Tom looked like a statesman anyhow. and that's more than most of ’em do.” She continued her efforts to divert his thoughts from thè reai matter at hand, summoning from thè shadows all thè Hoosier statesmen of thè postbellum period to ald her, and she purposely declared her admiration of severa! of these to provoke Kelton’s Ire.

"That’a right, Andrew, Jump on ’em," she laughed, as she drew frora thè desk a check hook and began to wrlte. When she had blotted and torn out thè check she examined lt carefully and placed lt near hlm on thè edge of her desk. “Now, Andrew Kelton, there's a check for $6,000: we’U cali that our educational fund You furnlsb thè girl; I put In thè money. I only wlsh I had thè girl to put lnto thè business instead of thè cash." **But I don’t need thè money yet: I ehan't need lt till fall,” he pròtest ed. “That' all right. Fall's pretty dose and youll feel better If you have lt. Tour note? Look here, Andrew Kelton. If you mentlon that lise Inaurane* to me a gain, ITI cut you ao qualntance. She dropped her check book lnto a drawer and swung round In her rwtvel chalr untll she faced hlm "I don’t want to open up that affair of Sylvia'e mother agaln. but there’s always thè posslblllty that somethlng may happen. You know Bdna's dead, but there’s always a chance that Sylvla’s father may turn up It’s not Mkely: but there’s no telllng about such thlngs: and lt wouldn’t be qulte fair for you to leave her unprepared lf lt should happen." “There’s one more drcumstance I haven’t told you “bout A letter waa sent to me by a stranger. ofTerlng money for Sylvia’e schoollng. The whole thlng waa surrounded wlth thè utmost secrecy.” “So? Then some one le watchlng Sylvia: keeplng track of her, and must be klndly dlsposed from that. You never heard anythlng before?” “Never I was asked to send a vertasi answer by thè messenger who brought me thè letter. acceptlng or dedlnlng thè offer I decllned lt.” "That waa rlght. But there’s no hldlng anythlng In thls world: you must have some Idea wbere thè offer carne from." *T haven/t thè sllghtest. not thè remotest Idea The messenger waa a ■franger to me: from what Bvlvla sald he was a stranger at Montgomery and a/i never seen thè collere before." "p’s queer- but you’d better try to forget lt. Somebody*s oonsdence ls hartlng, I reckon.” Kelton Hngered to smoke a dgar In (he open. He had enjoyed tonlght an earperteao* that he had not known ls

years—that of unburdening himself to a kindly, sympathetic, and resourceful ipoman. VVhile they talked of her, Sylvia sat in her window seat in thè dark above looking at thè stare. Sylvia was very hdppy. She had for a few houra breathed thè ampler ether of a new world; but she was unconscious in her dreaming that her girlhood, that had been as tranquil water safe from current and commotion, now felt thè outward drawlng of tfc tide. CHAPTER V On thè day following thè delivery to Andrew Kelton of thè letter in which money for Sylvia's education was offered by an unknown person, thè bearer of thè message was to be seen at Indianapolis, in thè law office of Wrlght & Fitch, attomeys and counselors at law, on thè fourth floor of thè Whlte Rlver Trust Company’* building in Washington St. In that office young Mr. Harwood was one of half a dozen students, who ran errands to thè courts, kept thè accounts and otherwìse mode themselves usefuL Wrlght & Fitch was thè prlncipal law finn in thè State in thè period under scrutiny, as may readily be proved by an examinatlon of thè court dockets Mr. Wrlght was a Republlcan, Mr. Fitch a Democrat, and each of these gentlemen occaslonally raised his voice loud enough in polititi to emphasize his party fealty. In thè seventies Mr. Wrlght had served a term on city attomey; on thè other hand, Mr. Fitch had once declined thè Itallan ambassadorahlp. Both had been mentloned at different tlme for thè governo re hip or for thè United States Senate, and both had declined to enter thè liste for these offices. Daniel Harwood had been graduateti from Yale University a year before we flrst observed hlm, and though thè world lay before hlm where to choose, he retumed to his native State and gave himself to thè study of law by day and earned a 11 veli hood by servlng thè “Courler” newspaper by night. As Mr. Harwood ls to appear frequently In thls chronide, lt may be well to summarlze brlefly thè faets of his hlstory. He was bori on a farro in Harrlson County, and his averslon to farro llfe had been colored from earllest childhood by thè dlffleulties his father experlenced in wrlnglng enough money out of elghty acres of land to buy food and clothlng and to pay taxes and interest on an insatlable mortgaged held somewhere by a ruthless Ufo Insurance company that seemed most unreasonably ir.sistent in its collectlons. Daniel had two older brothers who, havlng satisfled thelr passlon for enilghtenment at thè nearest schoolhouse, meekly enllsted under thelr father In thè task of ftghtlng thè mortgage Daniel, with a weaker hand had a better head, and with vastly more enterprlse, resolved to go to Yale. Daniel’s cholce of Yale had been detcrmined by thè fact that a professor In that instltution had once addressed thè county teachers. and , young Harwood had been greatly Un- ; pressed by hlm. The Yale professor was thè si rat graduate of an Eastern university that Daniel had ever seen. and he became thè young Hoosler’s Ideal of elegance and learnlng. Paniel had acqulred at thls tlme all that thè county school offered, and j he made bold to approach thè visitor j and ask his advlce as to thè best ' means of gettlng to college.

We need not trace thè devlous course by whlch. aster much bumlng of oli durlng ha.lf a dozen wlnters, Dan Harwood attalned to a freshman’s dlgnlty at New Haven, where, arrlvdng wlth hls effeets In a canvas telescope, he had sound a scholorahlp awalting him: nor need we do more than record thè fact that he had cared for fumane*, taken thè night shlft on a trolley car, and otherwlse eamed money untll. In hls Junior year, hls Incorna from newspaper correspondence rnd tutorlng made further manuaJ labor unnecessary. It ls wlth profound regrret that we cannot polnt to Harwood as a football hero or thè malnstay of thè crew. Havlng plowed thè mortgaged aerea, and tesa ed hay and broken colta, college ■-.thletlcs struck hlm as rather puerile dlverslon. He would have been thè least consplcuous man In college lf he had not shone In debate and gjithered up such prlzes and honors ns were accesslble In that fleld. Hls l>lg hoomlng voice, recognlzable above thè din In all ’varslty demonstratlons, eßmed for hlm thè sobriquet of ’ Foghom’’ Harwood For thè rest he studled early and late, and experlenced thè doubtful glory. and accepted roeekly thè reproach, of belng a grlnd. Hlstory and thè dismal Science had mterested hlm lmmensely. Hls r sslduous attentlon to thè classes of I*rofessor Sumner had not gone unnotlced by that emlnent lnstructor, who once called hlm by name In Chnpel St.. much to Dan’s edlflcatlon. He thought well of belles lettres and rnr a tlme toyed wlth an ambltion to enrich Engllsh Uterature wlth confrfbutions of hls own. Durlng thls peri od he contributed to thè "Llt” a sonnet called “The Clam-Digger” whlch began: At rosy dawn I see thlne arerosy: nd whlch closed wlth thè lnvoeatlon: “Fair tides reward thy long, ’aborlous days.” Harwood was Ilked by hls fellow studente In thè law office. Two Yalenslans, already established there, made hls lot easler, and they com blned agalnst a lone Harvardian, who bitterly resented Harwood’s habit of smoking a cob pipe in thè library at night. Harwood was busy flling papeis when Mr Fitch summoned him to hls private room on thè day indleated Fitch was short, thln, and bald. witn a cllpped reddish beard. brown eyes. and a tum-up nose Hs was sitting before thè tmmacu late desk he affected (no one ever dared leave anythlng on it in hls ab enee) when Harwood entered The lawyer's chalr was an enormous piece of fumiture in whlch his smal) figure aeemed to shrink and hlde Hls hands were thrust lnto hls pocket*, as they usually were, and he plped out “Good Momlng” In a high tenor voice. “Shut thè door, please, Mr. Harwood. What have you to report about your errami te MontgomeryT~

DOTNGS OF THE DUFFS—

/TOM, WAIT A MINUTE. l’Lt. L K - > \ WANT TO DO SOME SHOPPING “ [fp" N 1/■ ' f SEEN YOUR TYPE ) - . 4 f?tGHT IN THE FACE' N^~ th lg MORNINO; - --- | =============== [if ■ &EEORE-THEY OOSHT i ===J ■ —Jj IT WOULD HAVE

\'yf MEV, MISTER! \ \ K\ HOW FAR WILL f| lÉ (IT CrO ON ONEJ^^^* 9 1

TUEM DAYS IS GONE FOREVER—

POH T ttIAT COOPIE 6R106 Back 80T >OO TDOK. ME OUT IM YeJ-YOU SIKìELV (OCRC-BV ALI THEM DAYf If M€fVf?ies 0F Te TIME- I TAX.ICA.GS - A STREET-CAJS OPPJ-THE MOST USERAI. gAUS MMevuLn (

K*r <**l SS. A Ìrlh J S_ fi -tOLD ÉC -, NEWTSHES wai_ker just came our or (// BaRRYMORES WITH AN ARMFUL. OF CHAIRS FOR. THE {[(

He Indleated wlth a nod thè one chalr In thè room and Harwood seated hlmself. “I sound Professor Kelton wlthout dlffloulty and presented thè letter.” “Well?" “No ls thè answer." Fitch pollshed hls eyegl&saes wlth hls handkerchlef. He sarutlnlsed Har-

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

wood oarefully for a moment, then asked i—“Dld th* gentleman—whose name, by thè w&y, you have forgotten— ’’ "Yes, sin I have qulte forgotten lt,” Harwood replied promptly. Fitch amlled. Hls was a rare amile, but lt was worth waltlng for. "What dld thè trip cost you?” Harwood naìnod thè amount and thè

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Handle Thls On Your narp

lawyer drew & checkbook from hls Ini peocable desk and wrote. "1 have added SIOO for your serv lces. Thls ls a personal matter be tween you and me, and does not go on thè office books. By thè way, Mr. Harwood, what are you dolng out there?" he asked, movlng hls head sllghtly toward thè outer office. “l’ta readlng law."

Tom Gets Bawled Out

r L TUIS WAWtS* TUt SECOND S M C ( AJOVXJ 'W&M, I’UL 6WZ I TiWE TVJB I4AD To sui E VoU j |gg L, VoU OK ® S ( A B>*TU JOST BSCAOSB VOU < FI (CUAt-iCh'fc YOU PAUL I pi f A Hlf waL.Aoa, \ r 1 Y H ) IGSEOUP rii l'Jtljfr ■ IV AVUST ') U U

kh>, vt>u rr was uke -tu ìs Ma- Ma- ali He va> A SVtoWED A 5f UklE OF SAMPIES OFTH 1 LODGE ASKED \'l ME'S -mROWIkIG - 9MEU. LEATHER* : TÒ 'BAffLlkl© - ME MCfTTo PIiLUTH' OUTIJoW-TU' M UtS UOSE WAS J BoU^o'DJ YOUR CURTIUS OkJ 'BoUXo/ lokJuV "Time HE y OkTBOU'Zo'S* 5 LASTUIGUT- I was A MEMBER \toljcHed boUto* a gloves SO MICA ,g I WAS EXPECTIUG of UJDG'E., Akl‘ \ WAS WHDi "mEV/l we -TVtoOaMTtó •i To SEE You 'WTi‘T UAYE UIS TXJES \SHOOK WbtàSltfk Iki A J pj.ru - VSES^IFI AkJV J \ HjMj W€v Ptfì r°i yerrsoße ài^ooiT^faJ it> por'TLam'd's* Augi -=->

"ls lt posslblel The other young sters In thè office seem to be talklng politica or readlng newspapers most of thè tlme. How do you man ago to „ve? ’ "I do some work for thè Courier from tlme to tlme." "Ah! You are careful not to let your legai studles gt rnlxed wlth thè newspaper work?"

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

ODR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN'

"Yes, slr. They put me on meeting, and other night asslgnments. A* to thè confidences of thia office, you need have no fear of my ” “I haven’t, Mr. Harwood. Let me see. It waa of you Professor SUmner wrote me last year; he’s an old friend of mine. He’s a great man—Suìnner. 1 supposed you absorbed a of hls ldeas at New Haven,’’

NOV. 22, 1D22

—By ALLMAN

—By AL POSEN

"I hope I did, slr; I belleve in moet of them anyhow.’ “So do I, Mr. Harwood." Fitch pointed to a huge pile of manuscript on a table by thè window. It was a stenographic transcript of testimony in a case whlch had been lost In thè trial court and was now going up on appeal. (To Be Conti nued)