Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 211, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 January 1923 — Page 8

8

ALICE ADAMS by BOOTH TARKINGTON Copyright, 1921, by Doubleday, Page & Cos.

Begin Here Although her father’s salary is not sufficient to provide A MCE with all the things her cultured taste desires, she has decided not to mention the subject of work to him again until he recovers sufficiently from his present illness so that there will be no relapse. Alice's brother, VALTER, ever since all of his boy chum* went to college, leaving him behind because of their financial circumstances, assumes an attitude entirely lacking ambition and spends most of his evenings away from hero. No opportunity is wasted by the vivacious Alice to flaunt her charms before the world in order that any men eligible for marriage may know how wonderful she isGO ON VTTH THE STORY SHE came to a group of small colored children playing waywardly in a puddle at the mouth of a muddy alley; and at sight of her •hey gave over their pastime to stare. •ie smiled brilliantly upon them, but ;iiey were too struck with wonder to comprehend that the manifestation was friendly; and as Alice picked her way in a little detour to keep from the mud. she heard one of them say, “Lady got canel Jeez"!” She knew' that many colored children use Impieties familiarly, and she was not startled. She was disturbed, nowewer, by an unfavorable l.int in the speaker’s tone. He was six. probhly, but the sting of a criticism Is not necessarily allayed by knowledge •>f Its ignoble source, and Alice had already begun to feel a slight uneasiness about her cane. Mrs. Howling's stare had been strikingly projected at it; other women more than merely glanced, their brows and lips contracting Impulsively; and Alice was aware that one or two of them frankly halted as soon as she liad passed. She had seen In several magazines pictures of ladies with canes, and on that account she had bought this one, never questioning that fashion is t eeognlzed, even in the provinces, as -u>oii as beheld. On the contrary, these siaring women obviously failed to realize that what they were being shown was not an eccentric outburst, but the bright harbinger of an illustrious mode. Alice had applied a bit of artificial pigment to her lips and cheeks before she set forth this morning; she did not need it, having a ready color of her own. which now mounted lfigh with annoyance. Then a splendidly shining closed black automobile, with windows of polished glass, came silently down the street toward her. Within it. a* in a luxurious little apartment, three comely ladies in mourning sat and gossiped: but when the / saw Alice they clutched one another. They instantly recovered, bowing to her solemnly as they were borne by, yet were not gone from her sight so swiftly but the edge of her side glance caught a flash of teeth in mouths suddenly j opened, and the dark glisten of black gloves again clutching to share mirth. The color that outdid the rouge on Alice's cheek extended its area and grew warmer as she realized how all too cordial had been her nod and smile to these humorous ladies. But in their identity lay a significance causing her a sharper smart, for they were of the family of that Umb. chief of lamb & Company, who had employed her father since before she was born. “And know his salary! They'd be Mire to find out about that!” was her thought, coupled with another bitter one to the effect that they had probably mad" instantaneous financial estimates of what she wore—though certainly her walking-stick had most fed their hilarity. She tucked it under her arm. not swinging it again; and her breath became quick and irregular as craofion beset her. She had been enjoying her walk, but wuthin the space of the few blocks she had gone since she met the substantial gentleman, she found that more than the walk was spoiled; suddenly her life seemed to be spoiled, too; though she did not View the ruin with complaisance. These Lamb women thought her and her cane ridiculous, did they, she said to herself. That was their parvenu blood; to think because a girl’s father worked for their grandfather she had no right to be rather striking in style, especially when the striking vas her style. Probably all the other girls and women would agree with them and would laugh at her when they got together, and, what might be fatal, would try to make all the men think her a silly pretender. Men were Just like sheep, and nothing was easier than for women to set up as shepherds and pen them in a fold. “To keep out outsiders,” Alice thought. “And make ’em believe I am an outsider. iVhat's the use of living?" All seemed lost when a trim young man appeared, striding out of a crossstreet not far before her, and. turning at the comer, came toward her. Visibly, he slackened his gait to lengthen the time of his , approach, and. as he was a stranger to her. no motive could be ascribed to him other than a wish to have a longer time to look at her. She lifted a pretty hand to a pin at her throat, bit her lip—not with the smile, but mysteriously—and at last instant before her shadow touched the stranger, let her eyes gravely meet his. A moment later, having arrived before the house which was her dlsM nation, she halted at the entrance to a driveway leading through fine lawns to the intentionally Important mansion. It was a pleasant and Impressive place to 4>e seen entering, but Alice did not enter at once. She paused, examining a tiny bit of mortar which the masons had forgotten to scrape from a brick in one of the massive gate-posts. She frowned at this tiny defacement, and with an air of annoyance scraped It away, using the ferrule of her cane—an act of fastidious proprietorship. If any one had looked back over his shoulder he would not have doubted that she lived there. Alice did not turn to see whether anything of the sort happened or not. but she mav have surmised that it did. At all events, it was with an invigorated step that she left the gateway behind her and went cheerfully up the drive to the house of her friend Mildred. CHAPTER IV Adams had a restless morning, and toward noon he asked Mies Perry to call his daughter; he wished to say something to her. "I thought I heard her leaving the ho'Ae a couple of hours ago—maybe

longer,” the nurse told him. “I’ll go see.” And ehe returned from the brief errand, her Impression confirmed by Information from Mrs. Adams. “Yes. She went up to Miss Mildred Palmer’s to see what she's going to wear tonight." Adams looked at Miss Perry wearily, but remained passive, making no inquiries; for he was long accustomed to what seemed to him a kind of jargon among ladies, which became the more incomprehensible when they tried to explain it. A man's best course, he had found, was just to let it go as so much sound. His sorrowful eyes followed the nurse as she went back to her rocking-chair by the window: and her placidity showed him that there was no mystery for her in the fact that Alice walked two miles to ask so simple a question when there was a telephone in the house. Obviously Miss Perry also comprehended why Alice thought it Important to know what Mildred meant to wear. Adams understood why Alice should he concerned with what she herself wore—“to look neat and tidy and at her best, why, of course she’d want to,” he thought—but he realized that it was forever beyond him to understand why the clothing of other people had long since become an absorbing part of her life. Her excursion this morning was no novelty; she was continually going to see what Mildred meant to wear, or what some other girl meant to wear; and when Alice came home from wherever other girls or women had been gathered, she always hurried to her mother with earnest descriptions of the clothing she had seen. At such times, if Adams was present, he might recognize “organdie,” or “taffeta,*’ or “chiffon,” as words defining certain textiles, but the rest was too technical for him, and he was like a dismal boy at a sermon. Just waiting for it to get itself finished. Not the least of the mystery was his wife’s interest; ehe was almost Indifferent about her own clothes, and when she consulted Alice about them spoke hurriedly and with an air of apology; but when Alice described other people’s clothes. Mrs. Adams listened as eagerly as the daughter talked. “There they go!” he muttered today. a moment after he heard the front door closing, a sound recognizable throughout most of the thinly built house. Alice had Just returned, and Mrs. Adams called to her from the upper hallway, not far from Adams's door. “What did she say?" “She was sort of sr.ippv about it.” Alice returned, ascending the stairs. “She gets that way sometimes, and pretended she hadn’t made up her mind, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be the maize Georgette with Malines flounces.” “Didn't you say she wore th; t at the Pattersons'?” Mrs. Adams in quired. as Alice arrived at the top of the stairs. “And didn’t you tell me she wore it again at the ” “Certainly not,” Alice interrupted, rather petulantly. “She’s never worn it but once, and of course she wouldn’t want to wear anything tonight that people have seen her in a lot." Miss Perry opened the door of Adam’s room and stepped out. “Your father wants to know if you'll come jand see him a minute. Miss Adams.” “Poor old thing! Os course!” Alice exclaimed, anti went quickly into the ‘ l-oom, Miss Perry remaining outside, i “What’s the matter, papa? Getting lawful sick of lying on his Ured old back. I expect.” “I’ve had kind of poor morning,” Adams said, as she patted hts hand comfortingly. “I been thinking—” “Didn’t I tell you not to?” she cried, i gaily. "Os course you’ll have poor times when you go and do just exi actly what I say you mustn’t. You stop thinking this very minute!” He smiled ruefully, closing his eyes: was silent for a moment, then asked her to sit beside the bed. “I been thinking of something I wanted to say.” he added. “What like, papa?” “Well, It’s nothing—much,” he said, with something deprecatory In his tone, as If he felt vague Impulses toward humour and apology. “I Just thought maybe I ought to've said more to you some time or other about—well, about the way things ar< down at Lamb and Company's, for Instance.” "Now, papa!” She leaned forward In the chair she had taken, and pretended to slap his hand crossly. “Isn’t that exactly what T said you couldn’t think one single think about till you get all well?” “Well ” he said, and went on slowly, not looking at her, but at the ceiling. "I Just thought maybe It wouldn’t been any harm If some time or other I told you something about the way they sort of depend on me down there.” “Why don’t they show it. then?" she asked, quickly. “That’s just what mama and T have been feeling so much: they don’t appreciate you.” “Why, yes. they do,” he said. “Yes, they do. They began n’lsting my salary the second year I went In there, and they've h’lsted It a little every two years all the time I’ve work for ’em. I’ve been head of the sundries department for seven years now, and I could hardly have more authority In that department unless I was a member of the firm itself." “Well, why don't they make you a member cf the firm? That’s what they ought to’ve done Yes, and long ago!" Adams laughed, but sighed with more heartiness than he had laughed. ' They call me their ’oldest stand-by’ down there.” He laughed again, apologetically, as if to excuse himself for taking a little pride in this title. "Yes, sir; they say I’m tlielr 'oldest t'andby: and I guess they know they can count on my department’s turning in as good a report as they look for. at the end of every month; but they don’t have to take a man into the firm to get him to do my work, dearies." "But you said they depended on you. papa.” “So they do; but of course not so’* they couldn’t get along without me.” He paused, reflecting. “I don’t just seem to know how to put it—l mean how to put what 1 started out to say 1 kind of wanted ta tell you—well, it seems funny to me,* these last few years, the wsy your mother’s taken to feeling about it. Id like to see a better established wholesale drug business than Lamb wd Company

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

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THEM DAYS IS GONE FOREVER—

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this side the Alleghanies—l don’t say bigger, I say better established—and it's kind of funny for u man that’s been with a business like that as long as i have to hear it vailed u ‘hole.' It's kind of funny when you think, yourself, you’ve done pretty fairly well in a business like that, and the men at the head of it seem to think so. too, and put your salary just

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD llOilE TOWN—By STANLEY

about as high as anybody could consider customary—well, what I mean, .Mice, it’s land of funny to have your mother think It's mostly just—mostly just a failure, so to speak.” His voice had become tremulous in epite of him: and this sign of weakness and emotion had sufficient effect upon Alice. She bent over him suddenly with her arm about him and

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her cheek against his. “Poor papa!" she murmured. “Poor papa'.’’ “No, no,’’ he said. “I didn’t mean anything to trouble you. I just thought—” He hesitated. “I just wondered 1 thought maybe it wouldn't be any harm If I said something about how things are down there. I got to thinking maybe you didn't understand it’s a pretty good

Trouble for Danny

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Foist This On Your Fife

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place. They’re fine people to work for; and they’ve always seemed to think something of me;—the way they took Walter on, for instance, soon as i asked 'em, last year. Don't you think that looked a good deal as if they thought something of me, Alice?” “Yes, papa,” she said, not moving. “And the work's right pleasant,” he went on. "Mighty nice boys in our

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

department, Alice. Well, they are in all the departments, for that matter. We have a good deal of fun down there some days.” She lifted her head. “More than you do at home ‘some days,’ I expect, papa!” she said. He protested feebly. “Now, I didn’t mean that —I didn’t want to trouble you—” She looked at him through winking

JAN. 12, 1922

—By ALLMAN

-Bv AL POSEN

eyelashes. “I'm sorry I called it a ‘hole,’ papa.” “No, no,” he protested, gently. "It was your mother said that." “No. I did. too.” “Well, if you did, it was only b<* cause you'd heard her." She shook her head, then kissed him. "I’m going to talk to her," aim said, and rose decisively. (To Be Continued.)