Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 175, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 December 1922 — Page 8

A Hoosier Chronicle By MEREDITH NICHOLSON First Novel in tho Times Series of Fiction Stories by Indiana Writers (Copyright, 1913, by Meredith Nlcholson.)

If Dan entertalned any doubts aa to thè ethics lnvolved In Bassett’s handUng of thè eituatlon in Ranger County they were swept away by thè perfect candor with whlch Bassett lnformed their new intimacy. The most lnterestlng and powerful character in Indiana politica had made a connSant of Mtw Without attempting to exact vowb of secrecy, or threatenlng vengeance for infractlons of faith, bui in a eplrtt of good-fellowship that appeal ed strongly to Harwood, Bassett had given him a pass-key to many locked doora. "As you probably gathered,” Bassett waa saylng, "Atwill represents me at thè ‘Oourler’ office." “I had never suspected it,” T>an replled. “Has anybody suspected It?" asked Bassett quickly. “Well; of course it has been said repeatedly that you own or control thè ‘Courier.' ** “Let them keep on saying it; they mlght have hard wcrrk to prove it. And—” Bassetti eyes turped toward thè window. Hls brows contracted and he shut his llps tightly so that his stiff mustache gave to hisjmouth a sinister look that Dan had never seen before. The disfigreeable expression vanished and ho was his usuai cairn, unruffled self. "And,” he concluded, smiling. "I mlght have some trouble in proving it myself.” The next moming Dan sound that his interview with Bassett was thè feature of thè flrst page of '‘Courier,” and thè statement he had sent to thè “'Advertiser’’ was hardly lesa prominently dlsplayed. His oditorlal was thè “Courier’s” leader, and it appeared verbattm et literatlra. He vlewed his work ,with pride and satisfaction; even hls Ironical editorial “briefs” had, he fancied, something of thè piquancy he admired in thè paragraphing of thè "Xew York Sun." But his gratification at beìng able to wrìte "must" matter for both sides of a prominent journal was obscured by thè greater Joy of being thè chief adjutant of thè "Courier’s” sagacious concealed owner. The "Advertiser” replled to Bassett’s statement in a tone of hilarity. Bassett’s plea for a better accounting System was funny, that was all. Miles, thè treasurer of Ranger County, had been playing thè bucket shops with public moneys, and thè Honorable Morton Bassett of Praserville, with characterìstic zeal in a bad cause, had not only adjusted thè hortage, but was craftily trying to tura thè incident to thè advantage of hls party. The text for thè "AdTertiser’s” leader was thè Jingle:— “When thè devii was sick, thè devi! a monk would be; When thè devil got well, thè devi! a monk was he”' Bassett had left town, but thè regular staff of thè “Courier” kept up thè fìght along thè iines of thè artlcles Dan had contributed. The “Advertiser,” flnding that thè Republican pnjsecuting attorney of Ranger County Joined with thè locai bank in certifying to Miles’s probìty, dropped thè matter aster a few scattering volley s. However, within a week aster thè Miles incident, thè “Advertiser” gave Harwood thè shock of an unlookedfor plunge into ice-water by printing a sensational story under a doublecolumn headline, reading, "The Boss in thè Boordman Building.” The Honorable Morton Bassett, so thè article aveiVed, no lònger satisfled to rule hls party amid thè pastora! cairn of Fraser County, had stolen into thè capitai and secretly established headquarters, which meant, beyond question, thè manifestation of even a wider exervlse of his malign Influence In Indiana politics. Harwood’s nume enjoyed a fame that day that many years of laborious achievement could not have won for it. The* "Advertiser’s” photographers had stolen in at night and t&ken a flash tight plcture of thè office door, hearing thè legend. Harwood's personal hlstory was set forth in florld pbrasca It appeared that he had been carefully cbosen and tralned by Bassett to aid in his evil work. His connection with thè "Courier,” whlch had seemed to Dan at thè time so humble, assumed a dignity and importance that highly anused him. It was qulte Uke thè Fiaserville boss to choose a young mnn of good antecedents, thè graduate of a university, with no previotis experi enee in politics, thè better to bend him to his wiil. Dan’s talenta and his brilliant career at college all helped to magnify thè importance of Bassett’s latest move. Morton Bassett was dangerous, thè "Advertiser” conceded edltorially, because he had brains; and be was even more to be feared because he could command thè brains of other men. Dan cali ed Bassett at FraserviUe on thè long distane© telephone and told him of thè disclosure. Bassett replled in a few ser.tences. "That won’t hurt anything. I’d been expecting something of thè kind. Put you in, did they? I’il get my paper tonight and read it carefully. Better cut thè stufi out and send it, in an envelope, to moke su re. Cali Atwill over and teli him we ignoro thè whole business. I’m taking a little rest, but IH be in town in about a week." When Dan walked into thè Whitcomb that evenlng thè clerk made a polnt of calling his name and shaklng hands with him. He was con scious that a number of idlers in thè hotel lobby regarded him with a new interest. Some one spoke his name audibly, and he enjoyed in some degrèe thè sensation of being a person of mark. He crossed University Square and walked out Meridian St. to Pitch’s house. The lawier carne downstairs in his shirt sleeves with a legai envelope in his hWid. | “Glad to see you, Harwoo'd. I’m parking up; going to light out in thè raorning and get in on thè end of my family’s vacation. They’ve moved out of Maine into thè Berkshires and thè boys are going back to college without comlng home.. I see thè Advertiser has been aster you. How do you like your Job?” g "I'm not scared,” Dàn roplfed. “It's All very amusing and my morsi ebar-

acter hasn’t suffered so far.” Fitch eyed him critically. “Well, I haven’t time to talk to you, but bere’s something I wish you'd do for me. I have a quit-clalm deed for Mrs. Owens to sign. I forgot to teli one of thè boys in thè office to get her acknowledgement, but you’re a notary, aren’t you? I’ve just been telephoning her about it. You know who she is? Come to think of it, she’s Bassett’s aunt-in-law. You’re not a good Hoosier till you know Aunt Sally. I advise you to make yourself solid with her. I don’t know what she's doing in town Just now, but her ways are always inscrutable.” Dan was soon ringing thè bell at Mrs. Owen's. .Mrs. Owen was out, thè mald said, but would be back shortly. Dan explalned that he had come from Mr. Fitch, and she asked him to walk into thè parlor and wait. Sylvia Garrison and her gran tifa ther had been at Montgomery slnce their vislt to Waupegan and were now in Indianapolis for a day on their way to Boston. The Delaware Street house had been closed all summer. The floors were bare and thè fumiture waj stili Jacketed in llnen. Sylvia arose as Harwood appeared at thè parlor door. "Pardon me,” said Dan, as thè maid vanished. “I have an ci ranci with Mrs. Owen and IH wait, if you don’t mind." "Certainly. Mrs. Owen has gene out to make a cali, but she will be back soon. She went only a little way down thè Street. Please have a ehair." She hesitated a moment, not knowing whether to remain or to leave thè young man to himself. Dan determined thè matter for her by opening a conversation on thè state of thè weather. “September la thè mosf trying month of thè year. Just when we’re all tired of summer, lt takes its last fling at us." “It has been very warm. I carne over from Montgomery afterneon and it was very dusty and disagreeable on thè train.” “From Montgomery?” repeated Dan, surprised and perplexed. Then, as it dawned upon him that thls was thè girl who had opened thè door for him at Professor Kelton’s house in Montgomery when he had gone thsre with a letter from Fitch. “You see,” he said, “we’ve met before, in your own house. You very kindly went off to fnd some one for me—and didn't come back; but I passed you on thè campus as I was leaving." He had for thè moment forgotte.n thè name of thè old gentleman to wliom he had borne a letter from Mr. Pitch. He would have forgotten thè incident completely long ago if it had not been for thè curlous manner in which thè lawyer had received his re pori and thè secrecy sb carefully eri joined. It was“odd that he should have chanced upon these people agaJn. Dan did not know many women, young or old, and he sound this encounter with Sylvia wholly agreeable, Sylvia being, as we know, 17. and not an offense to thè eye. "It was my grandfather. Professor Kelton, you carne to see. He'a here with me now, but he’s gone out to cali on an old friend with Mrs. Owen.” Every detail of Dan'a vislt to thè cottage was clear in Sylvla’s mind; caliere had been too rare for theto to be any dimness of memory as to thè visit of they stranger, particularly when she had associatsd h<*r grandfather's susequent depressimi with hls coming.‘ Dan felt that he ehould scrupulously avoid touching upon thè visit to Montgomery otherwise than casually. He was stili bound in all honor to forget that excursion as far as possible. This young person seemed very serious, and he was ryot sur that she was comfortable in his presence. “It was a warm day, I remeraber, but cool and pleasant in your library. I’m going to make a confession. When ybu went off so kindly to find Profes sor Kelton I picked up thè book you had been reading, and lt qulte laid me low. I had lmaglned lt would be something cheerful and frivoious, to lift thè epirlt of thè Jaded tr&veler.” “It must have been a good story,” replled Sylvia, guardedly. "It was! It was thè 'Aeneid,* and I began at your bookmark and tried to stagger through a page, but lt doored me. You see how frank I am; I j ought really to have kept this terrible j disclosure from you.”

‘‘Didn’t you like Madison? 1 remember that I thought you were cotnparing us unfavorably wlth other placea. Tou implied"—and Sylvia smiled—“that you didn’t think Madison a very important collega.” “Then be sure of my contrition now! Your Virgil sank deep lnto my consclousness, and I am glad of this chance to render unto Madison thè things that are Madison’s.” His chafflng way reminded her of Dr. Wandless, who often struck a similar note in their encounters. Sylvia was qulte at ease now. Jfer caller's smile encouraged friendliness. He had dropped his fedora hat on a chair, but clung to his bamboo stick. His gray sack suit thè tro userà neatly creased and his smartly knotted tie proclaimed him a man of fashion: thè newest and youngest member of thè Madison faculty, who had intrcduced spatS to thè campus, was not more lmpressively tallored. ■*- "You said you had gone to a large college; and I s&id” "Oh, you hit me back straight enough!” laughed Harwood. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” Sylviar protested, coloring. They evidently both remembered what had been said at that interview. "It wasn’t rude; it was quite thè retort courteous! My conceit at belng a Yale man was shattered by your shot.” "Well, I suppose Yale is a good place, too,” said Sylvia, with a generous intention that caused them both to laugh. “By tokert of your Virgilian diversions shall I assume that you are a coilegian, really or almost?” "Just almost. I’m on my way to Wellesley now.” “Ah!” and his exclamation was heavy wlth meaning. A girl bound for college became immediately an integer with whicb a young man who had not yet mislaid his diploma could reckon. “I have usually been a supporter of Vassar. It’s thè only wonv an’s college I ever attended. I went vjo there once to see a girl I met t a prom—such is thè weakftess of mani I had %rrayed myself ss thè

DOINGS OF THE DTTFFS—

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THEM DAYS LS GONE FOREVER—

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lilies of thè field, and on my way through Pokip I gathered up a beautiful two-seated trap with a driver, thinking, in my ignorance, that I should make a big hit by driving thè fair one over thè hills and far away. The horses were wonderful; I sound out later that they were thè finest hearse horses in Poughkeepsie. She was an awfully funny girl, that girl.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLLYMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

She always used both ‘shall* and ‘will,’ beirig afraid to take chances with either verb, an idea I’m often tempted to adopt myself.” "It’s ingenious, at any rate. But how did thè drive go?” “Oh, it didn’t! She said she couldn’t go with me alone unless I was or were her éòusin. It was against thè rules. So we agreed to be couslns

“You Were My Queen In Calicò.”

and she went off to flnd thè dean or some awful autocrat like that, to spring thè delightful sórprlse, that her long-lost cousin from Kalamazoo had suddenly appeared, and might she go driving with him. That was her idea, I assure you—my own depravity could suggest nothing moro euphonious than Canajoharle. And would you believ® it, thè oonsent

More Trouble With Turkey

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being forthcoming, she carne back and said she wouldn’t go—absolutely declined! She rested on thè fine point in ethics that, while it was not. improper to teli thè flb, it would be highly s’insulto take advantage of it}: So we strolled over thè campus ar.d she showed me thè sights, while those funeral beasts champed their thtsj at so much per hour. Sbe was* a

FRECKLES AND HIS FRLENDS—By BLOSSER

OUIi BOABDING HOUSIS—By AHEBN

Connecticut girl, and I made a note of fc'he incident. as Illustrating a curio’as phase of thè New England con.science.” , While they were gayly ringing thè changes on these adventures, steps sounded on thè veranda. "That’s Mrs. Owen and my grand father,” said Sylvia. "I wonder —” began Dan, grave at

DEO. 1, 1921

—By ALLMAN

AL POSEN

once. “You’i-e wondering,” said Sylvia, "whether my grandfather will remember you.” She recalled very well her giundfather’s unusual seriousness aster Harwood’s visit; it seemed wiser net to bring thè matter again to hi* atte ntion. (To be OontinaeAl