Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 205, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 January 1923 — Page 8

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

"I know —almost all I ever need to know. But there are some things? you must tell me now. This is the first — and the last—time that I shall ever *peak to you of these things. I know enough—things I have stumbled upon -—and 1 have built them up until 1 see the horror, the blackness. And t want to feel sure that you, too, see the pity of it all.” Her note of subdued passion roused him now to earnestness, and he framed a disavowal of the worst she might have Imagined. He could calm her fears at once, and the lines in his face relaxed at the thought that it was in his power to afford her this relief. “I marned' your mother. There was noth.* , wrong about it. It was all stral&U.” "And you thought, oh. you thought I came for that —you believed I came to have you satisfy me of her honor! T never doubted her!” and she lifted her head proudly. “And that is what you thought I came for?” The indignation that flashed in hcT first stammered sentences died falteringly in a oentemptuous whisper. Her words had cut him deep: he turned away aimlessly, fingering some Tapers on the table beside him. Then he plunged to the heart of the matter, as though in haste to exculpate him self. "I never meant that it should happen as it Old. I knew her In New York when we were both students there. My father had been ill a long time: he was bent, upon my marrying the daughter of his old friend Singleton. a man of wealth and influence in our part of the State. I persuaded your mother to run away and we were married, under an assumed name,-—but it was a marriage good in law. There’s no question of that, you understand. Then I left her rp there in the Adirondacks, and went home. My father’s illness was prolonged. and his condition justified j in asking your mother to wait. She knew the circumstances and agreed to remain away until I saw my way clear to acknowledging her and taking her home. You were born up there. Your mother grew impatient Rnd hurt because I could not go bock to her. But I could not—it would have ruined all my chances at home. "When 1 went to find my wife she had disappeared. She was a proud woman, and I suppose she had good cause for hating me.” He told the story fully, filling in the gaps in her own knowledge. He did not disguise the fact of his own half-hearted search for the woman he had deserted. He even told of the precautions he had taken to assure himself of the death of Edna Kelton by visiting Montgomery’ to Tsolc at her grave before his marriage to Hallie Singleton. He had gone back again shortly before he made the of fer to pay for Sylvia’s schooling, and had seen her with her grandfather in the little garden among the roses Outside the guard slowly passed back and forth. Sylvia did not speak: her seeming inattention vexed and perplexed him lie thought h*-r lacking in appreciation of his frankness “Thatcher knows much of this story, but he doesn't know the whole.” he went on. “He believes It was Irregular. He’s been keeping It back to spring as a sensation, He's told those men out there that he can break me - that at the last minute he wii crush me. They’re waiting for me now—Thatcher and his crowd; probably chuckling to think how at last they’ve got me cornered. That's the situation. They think they’re about rid of Morton Bassett.” “You l(Vt her; you desei-ted her: you left her to die alone, unprotected, without even a name. You accepted her lovalty and fidelity, and then threw her aside; you slunk away alone to her grave to be sure she wouldn’t trouble you again. Oh, It Is black, it is horrible!” Sylvia was looking at him with a kind of awed wonder in her eyes. For an instant there had been a faint suggestion of contrition in his tone, but it was overwhelmed by his desire for self-justification. It was of himself ha was thinking, not of the deed in itself, not of the woman h • bad left to bear her child ir. an alien wilderness. "I tried to do what I could for you. 1 want you to know that. I meant to have cared for you, that no harm should come to you," he said, and the words jarred upon his own ears as he spoke them. In her face there was less of disdain than of marvel. He wished to escape from her eyes, but they held him fast. Messengers ran hurriedly’ through the corridors; men passed

COOPERATION IS PROVING SUCCESS

Farmers of Wisconsin Solve Marketing Problem. By HERBERT W. LITTLE United Press Staff Correspondent MADISON, YTls.. Jan. 6.—^Wisconsin farmers are solving their marketing problems through one of the largest systems of cooperative associations in the country. The middleman is beginning to take the count. An annual business of $60,000,000 a year, done through coopera*ives, which are operating succeesfulf in fourteen different branches of farm activities, is knocking him for successive rows of goals. Success of the Badger cooperatives is due In a large degree to the facts that the organizations have been evolved through long development and with some State aid and supervision. and to the fact that many of the farmers of the State are of Scandinavian descent, according to Prof. B. JI. Hibbard of the agricultural economic department of the University of Wisconsin.

The Scandinavians' successes are due to long experience in their mother countries, where agricultural cooperatives are a matter of governmental policy.

the door talking In tones faintly audible; but the excitement in the rival camps communicated nothing of Its Intensity to this quiet chamber. “This isn't quite all, Mr. Bassett,” Sylvia began after a moment. “You have offered me reparation, or what you called by that name. You can’t deny that I have a right to be satisfied with that reparation. “Certainly’; anything in reason. It is for you to name the terms; I expect you to make them—adequate." “Let us go back a moment,” she Began, smiling at the care with which he had chosen his last word. “Last night I fought out for myself the whole matter of your scoundrelly, cowardly treatment of my mother. You can make no reparation to her. The time passed long ago for that. And there is absolutely nothing you can do for me. I will accept nothing from you, neither the name you denied to her nor money, now or later. So there is only one other person whose interest or whose happiness we need consider.” He stared at her frowning, not understanding. Once more, as on tlrnt day’ when she had laughed at him, or again when she had taken the flairs of his own household into her hands, he was conscious of the strength that lay In her, of her power o drive him back upon himself. Sometiling of his own masterful spirit had entered into her, but with a difference. Her self-control, her patient persistence, her sobriety’ of judge-* meat., her reasoning mind, were like his own. She was as keen and resourceful as he. and be wan eager for the explanation she -withheld. a3 rhough, knowing that she had driven in bis pickets be awaited the charge of her lines. He bent toward her, feeling her charm, yielding to the fascination she had for him. , “No,” he said gently and kindly. “I don't see; I don't understand you.” She saw and felt the change in him; but she was on guard against a reaction. He could not know how her heart throbbed, or how it had seemed 'or a moment that words would not come to her lips. “Tt Is to you: it is *o yourself that you must make the reparation. And ou must make it flow. There may never be a time like this; it is your great opportunity.” "You think, you ask —” he began wariiy; and she was quick to see that the precise moment for the full stroke had not come; that the ground required preparation. “I think,” she interrupted, smiling gravely, “that you want me to he your friend. More than that, we have long been friends. And deep down in your heart I believe you want my regard; you want me to think well of you. And I must tell you that there's a kind of happiness—for it. must be happiness—that comes to me at the thought of It. Something there is between you and me that Is different: somehow we understand each other.” His response was beyond anything she had hoped" for: a light shone suddenly in his fare. There was no doubt of the sincerity of the feeling with which he replied: “Yes: I have feit it; I felt it the first day we met!” “And because there Jr this understanding, this tie, x dare to be frank with you: I mean to make your reparation difficult. But you will not refuse It; you will not disappoint me. I mean, that you must throw away the victory you are prepared to win.” He shook his head slowly, but he could not evade the pleading of her eyes. “I can’t do It; it’s tod much.” he muttered. “It’s the goal I have sought for ten years. It would be like throwing away life itself." “Yes; it would b bitter, but it would be the first sacrifice you ever made In your life. You have built- your life on lies. You have lurked in shadows, hating the light. You have done your work in the dark, creeping, hiding, mocking, vanishing. What you propose doing tonight in anticipating the blow of your enemy is only an act of bravado. There is no real courage in that You are the unfcappieat man in the world. But there’s a real power in you, or you could never have done iio things you have done—the mean and vile things. You have brains and a genius for organizing and managing men. You could never have lasted so long without the personal qualities that a man must have to lead men. And you have led them, down and down.” To nil appearances she had spoken to dull ears. Occasionally their eyes had met, but his gaze had wandered away to range the walls. When she ceased he moved restlessly about the room. “You think I am as bad as that?” he asked, pausing by the table and looking down at her. “You v are as bad—and as good—as that,” she replied, the 'hope that tirred in her heart lighting her face. He shrugged his shoulders and sat down. “You have the wit. to see that the old order of things is passing; the old apparatus you have learned to op erato with a turn of the hand is out of date. -Now is your chance to leave the shadow life and begin again. It’s not too late to win the confidence—the gratitude even—of the people who now distrust and fear you. The day of reckoning is coining fast for men like you, who have made a mystery of politics, playing it as a game in the dark. I don’t protend to know much of these things, but I can see that men of your type are passing out; there would be no great glory for you in waiting to be the last to go. And there are things en-Jugh for you to do. If you ally yourself with the good causes that cry for support and leadership, you can be far more formidable than you have ever been as a skulking trickster; you can lead men up as you have led them down.” “The change is coming: I have seen it coming,” he replied, catching at the one thing it seemed safest to approve. ' But she was not to be thwarted bv his acquiescence in generatlities. He saw that she had brought him back to a point whence he must elect his course, but he did not flinch at the fiat restatement of her demand. “You have cone nothing to deserve the senatership: von are not the choice of the people, of tills State. You must

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

THIS BUSINESS Op FIRING \ TWO FURNACES IS NO CINCH J xjip I'VE GOT TO KEEP A FIRE IN \ "THE NEW HOUSE TO DRY IT OUT BEFORE WE MOVE IN, J] AND KEEP THIS ONE GOING UNTIL WE MOVE - A LOT OF

/%£ s * v. > YOU ' LO WsV /WELL IN DEI FUST PLACE. HE \ T 'A MAH PAMTfe SO DE.Y ■MA p ) Vis nice am wahm wen ah *, DAT FO ? IK W ( OEM ON-AN OE SECON* ) ’: -- V ' H U H -s-S V PLACE, HES GOIN YO KEEP ( i WASP FUNKS UYiUTY HOUND vr* sntvtc* J

THEM DAYS IS GONE FOREVFJL

kjcM *BY GOSH -The QvteiMeV smuepMites - I’ll SELL IT HA-HA'. A CVLINOea BUST IM THE CAR IS JUST LIKE gAyr *

THE NEIGHBOR'S WERE OW ~THB SCEWIE WHEN AUNT SARAH PEABODY STARTED TO OPEN UP THE CURIOUS CRATE SHE -JUST RECEIVED THE FREIGHT STATION, ,

relinquish It; you must give It up!” The earnestness with which she utter<!d her last words seemed, to her surprise, to amuse him. “You think,” he said, "that I should go back and make anew s(art by a different route? But I don’t know the schedule; my transportation is good on only one line.” And he grinned at his joke. • Oh, you . will hare to pay your

OUT OUR AY AY"—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD HOME TOAYN—By STANLEY

fare!” she replied quickly. "You've never done that.” Ills grin became a smile, hnd he said: "You want me to walk If I can’t pay my way!” "Yes,” she laughed happily, feeling that her victory was half won: "and you would have to he carful to stop, look and listen at the crossings!” The allusion further eased the stress of the hour; humor shone in his

THE US DIAA AROULS TIMES

Os I NEVER Knew WE HAD 50 V ( MUCH JUNK -IF WE TAKE EVERY l \ Thing we have in this house J \IT WILL MAKE ABOUT TEN LOADS?/ ~"'~T/ * 7 r T OM ' WvmN WILLTHCY ] \ > PUT THE PHONE IN THE l

gray eyes. He consulted his watch, frowned, bent his eyes upon the floor, then turned to her with disconcerting abruptness. "I haven't been half the boss you think me. I've been hedged in, cramped, and shackled. All these fellows who hop the sticlc when I say ‘Jump’ have their little axes I must help grind. I’ve fooled sway the best years of my life taking car® of these

Tom Is Kept Very Busy

f THEY TALK ABOUT BUYING NEW A BELIEVE ME, AFTER-N j THINGS FOR THE NEW HOUSE- \ GET THIS r Vj T [ WE’VE GOT ENOUGH NOW TO . J - -timp - mpv/pc? A/U I \jA* H a you** aESi-'ES? JIBS®* ife: "-y —7y /!u , l *s. f ( connected in THE }r V PLACI - A 1 V new House? \NiN£TY JtEARS __JJ [ ] U Cn c s* h In A

—*Y Ntowktfr* / ry uouss t AO*-? 'CAUSE I ky DoP w \ 585-iytfwac A NNA J UTT\£ BABY V L J

I C DlOTtf tfToRK \ j

Execute This On Your Exlmust

# I Mope T W MYWORD,T>OCroR COklkfePTvte t HAVH Kio-r GOOD WIFE ANT> I ARE W THE AvITHATS rig#JJSreUTp - Us TH MA3&P 1 LOCATE k CATfeRER WMO COULD VJOSg Okl Miwy CHARMING PREPARE A PRECISE TABLE FOR HE LOOkS ‘ J™ ' PS WILL OUR iHTeN-DETD REPASTToNICHT -tx mAToUT> MV OU SUCH SHORT NOTICE CAME OFF/ l SEE WHoYL iEss [J bY Tove,x Have wouldn't \ pavFORTH' \ 'T BE TOLLY TO SEER irU/iPinT/ \FEED L > IIOUSE hAAtrbR TOES A PLAY-OFP OkiTHE MEAL FOP I>S.CoUkIER

little fellows, and I've spent a lot of .money on them. It’s become a little monotonous, I can tell you. It’s begun to get on my nerves, for I have a few; and all this hammering I've taken from the newspapers has begun to make me hot. I know about as much as they do about the right and wrong of things; I suppose I know something about Government and the law too!”

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

"Yes,” Sylvia assented eagerly. He readjusted himself in his chair, crossing his legs and thrusting his hands Into his trousers pockets, "It would be rather cheerful and comfortable,” he continued musingly, as though unburdening himself of old grievances, "to be free to do as you like once In a lifetime! Those fellows In Thatcher'# herd who have practi-

I -m \p |

\ CANE AU. DiSVCT, BUT (y * Y Y vka surne^y

cally sold out to me and are ready to deliver the goods tonight are all ms cais, swung my way by a few corporations that would like to have me in Washington. It would be a good Joke to fool them and elect a man who couldn’t be bought.! It’s funny, but I’ve wondered sometimes whether I wasn’t growing tired of the old game.” (To Be Continued)

JAiS. 5/1920

—By ALLMAN

—By AL POSEN