Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 242, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 February 1923 — Page 8

8

ALICE ADAMS by BOOTH TARKINGTON Second novel In The Times series by Indiana writers. Copyright, IS2I, by Doubleday, Pjge & Cos.

uIV/’ IIAT ls ltr ’ 11/ He coughed. "Well, YY It ain’t anything terrible.” he said. “Fact ls, your brother Walter’s got In a little trouble —well, I suppose you might call it quite a good deal of trouble. Fact Is, he’s quite considerable short in his accounts down at Lamb & Company.” Alice ran up the stairs and Into her father’s room, where Mrs. Adams threw herself into her daughter s arms. “Is he gone?” she sobbed. “He didn’t hear me, did’ he? I tried so hard —” “Oh, poor Walter!” The mother cried. “Oh, the poor boy! Poor, poor Walter! Poor, poor, poor, poor—” “Hush, -dear, hush!” Alice tried to soothe her, but the lament could not be abated, and from the other side of the room a repetition in a different spirit 'was as continuous. Adams paced furiously there, pounding his fist into his left palm as he strode. “The dang boy!” he said. “Dang little fool! Dang idiot! Dang fool! Whyn’t he tell me, dang little fool?” “He did!” Mrs. Adams sobbed. "He did tell you, and you wouldn’t give it to him.” “He did. did he?” Adams shouted at her. “What he begged me for was money to run away with! He never dreamed of putting back what he took. What the dangnation you talking about—accusing me!” “He needed it,’’ she said. “He needed H to run away with! How could he expect to live, after he got away, if he didn’t have a little money 7 Oh. poor, poor, poor, Walter! Poor. poor, poor •” She went back to this repetition: and Adams went back to his own, then paused, seeing his old friend standing In the hallway outside the open door. “Ah—l’ll just Be goin’, I guess. Virgil,” Lohr said. “I don’t see as there’s any use my tryin’ to say any more. Til do anything you want me to, you understand.” “Wait a minute,” Adams said, and. groaning, came and went down the stairs |rith him. “You say you didn’t see the old man at all?” “No, I don’t know a thing about what he’s going to do.” Lohr said, as they reached the lower floor. “Not a thing. But look here. Virgil, I don’t sea as this calls for you and your wife to take on so hard about—any bow not os hard os the way you’ve started.” “No.” Adams gulped. “It always seems way to the other party that’s only looking on!” “Oh, welj, I know that, of course," old Charley returned, soothingly. "But lock here, Virgil: they may not cate’ the boy: they didn't even seem to b-> sure what train he made, and If they do get him, why. the ole man might decide not to prosecute if—” “Him?” Adana cried, interrupting “Him not prosecute? Why. that’s what he's been waiting for, all alone' Jle thinks my hoy and me both cheat Why. he was just lettin Walter walk into a trap! Didn’t you say they’d been suspecting him fo> some time back? Didn’t you sa they'd been watching him and wer. jest about fixing to arrest him?” “Yes, I know.” said Lohr; “but you can’t tell, especially If you raise the money and pay it back.” “Every cent!” Adams vociferated “Every lasts penny! I can raise it— I got to raise it! I'm going to put a loan on my factory tomorrow. Oh I*ll get it for him, you tell him! Every last penny!” “Well, ole feller, you just try and get quieted down some now.” Charley held out his hand in parting. “You and your wife just quiet down some You ain’t the healthiest man In the world, you know, and you already been under quite some strain before this happened. You want to take care of yourself for the sake of your wife and that sweet little girl upstairs, you know. Now, good-night.” he finished stepping out upon the veranda. “You send for me if there's anything I can do.” “Do?” Adams echoed. “There ain’t anything anybody can do!” And then, as his old friend went down the path to the sidewalk, he called after him, “You tell him I’ll pay him every last cent! Every last, dang, dirty penny!” He slammed the door and went rapidly up the stairs loudly to himself, “Every dang, last, dirty penny! Thinks everybody in this family wants to steal from him, does he? Thinks we’re all yellow, does he? I’ll show him!” And he came Into his own room vociferating, “Every last, dang, dirty penny!” Mrs. Adams had collapsed, and Alice

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had put her upon ,hls bed. where she lay tossing convulsively and sobbing, “Oh, poor Walter!” over and over, but after a time she varied the sorry tune. “Oh, poor Alice!” she moaned, clinging to her daughter’s hand. “Oh, poor, poor Alice—to have this come on the night of your dinner—just when everything seemed to be going so well—at last oh, poor, poor— ■” “Hush!" Alice said, sharply. “Don’t say ‘poor Alice!’ I’m all right,” "You must be!” tyer mother cried, clutching her. “You’ve just got to be! One of us has got to be all right—surely God wouldn’t mind just one of us being all right—that wouldn’t hurt him —■” “Hush, hush, mother! Hush!" But Mrs. Adams only clutched her the more tightly. “He seemed such a nice young man .dearie! He may not see this in the paper—Mr. Lohr said it was just a little bit of an item—he may not see It, dearie —” Then her anguish went back to Walter again; and to his needs as a fugitive—she had meant to repair his underwear, but had postponed doing so, and her neglect now appeared to be a detail as lamentable as the calamity Itself. She could neither be stilled upon it, nor herself exhaust Its urgings to self-reproach, though she Anally took up another theme temporarily. Uj on an unusually violent outbreak of her husband's, in denunciation of the runaway, she cried out faintly that he was cruel; and further wearied her broken voice with details of Walter’s beauty as a baby, and of his bedtime pieties throughout his Infancy. So the hot night wore on. Three had struck before Mrs. Adams was got to bed; and Alice, returning to her own room, could hear her father’s bare feet thudding back and forth after that. “Poor papa!” she whispered in helpless Imitation of her mother. “Poor papa! Poor mama! Poor Walter! Poor all of us!” She fell asleep, after a time, while from across the hall the bare feet still thudded over their changeless j route; and she woke at 7, hearing ! Adams pass her door, shod. In her j wrapper she ran out into the hallway I and found him descending the stairs, j “Papa!” "Hush,” he said, and looked up at! her with reddened eyes. “Don’t wake your mother.” “I won’t,” she whispered. “How j about you? You havent slept,any at j all!” “Yes, I did. I got some sleep. I’m j ,-oing over to the works now. I got' ,o throw some figures together to | how the bank. Don’t worry; I’ll get j hings fixed up. You go back to bed. lood-bye.” ’Wait!” she bad him sharply. “What for?” “You’ve got to have some breakast.” “Don’t want ’ny.” “You wait!” she said, imperiously, and disappeared to return almost at 1 once. “I can cook In my bedroom Uppers,” she explained, “but I don’t dieve I could in my bare feet!” Descending softly, she made him wait in the dining-room until she •rought him toast and eggs and coffee. Eat!” she stud. “And I'm going to elephone for a taxicab to take you. If ou think you've really got to go.” “No, I’m going to walk —I want to walk.” She shook her head anxiously. “You j ! on’t look able. You’ve walked all I night.” "No, I didn’t,” he’returned. “I tell; you I got some sleep. I got ail I wanted anyhow.” “But, papa—” “Here!” he Interrupted, looking up it her suddenly and setting down his cup of coffee. “Look here! What about this Mr. Russell? I forgot all bout him. What about him?” Her lip trembled a little, but she controlled It before she spoke. "Well, what about him, papa?” she asked, calmly enough. “Well, we could hardly—” Adams paused, frowning heavily. “We could hardly expect he wouldn’t hear some- , hing about all this.” “Yes; of course he'll hear it, papa." j “Well?” “Well, what?” she asked, gently. “You don’t think he’d be the —the cheap kind It’d make a difference with, if course.” “Oh, no; he isn’t cheap. It won’t •rake any difference with him.” Adams suffered a profound sigh to scape him. “Well—l’m glad of that, nyway.” "The difference," she explained—the difference was made without his hearing anything about Walter. He loesn’t know about that yet.” “Well, what does he know about?” “Only,” she said, “about me.” “What you mean by Alice?" he asked, helplessly. “Never mind," she said. “It’s nothing beside the real trouble we’re In—l’ll tell you some time. You eat your eggs and toast; you can\ keep going on just coffee.” “I can’t eat any eggs and toast,” he objected, rising. "I can’. ” “Then wait till I can bring you something else." “No,” he said. Irritably. “I won’t do It! I don’t want any dang food! And look here”—he spoke sharply to stop her, as she went toward the tele phone—“l don’t want any ,dang taxi, either! You look after your mother when she wakes up. I got to be at j work!” And though she followed him to ; the front door, entreating, he could not be stayed or hindered. He went through the quiet morning streets at a rickety, rapid gaft, swinging his old straw hat in his hands, and whis- ! pering angrily to himself as he went. His grizzled hair, not trimmed for a month, blew back from his damp forehead in the warm breeze; his red dened eyes stared hard at nothing from under blinking lids: and one side of his face twitched startlingly from time to time - —children might have run from him, or mocked him. When he had come into that fallen quarter his industry' had partly revived and v'hollv made odorous, a negro woman, leaning upon her whitewashed gate, gazed after him and chuckled for the benefit of a gossiping friend in the next tiny yard. “Oh, good Satan! Wha’ssa matter that ole glue man?” “Who? Him?” the neighbor inquired. “What he do now?” “Talkin’ to his ole se'f!” the first explained, joyously. “Look like gone

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

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distracted—ole glue man!” Adams’ legs had grown more uncertain with his hard walk, and he stum bled heavily as he crossed the baked mud of his broad lot, but cared little for that, was almost unaware of it. In fact. Thus his eyes saw as little as his body felt, and so he failed to ob serve something that would nave given him additional light upon an old phrase that already meant quite enough for him.

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

There are in the wide world people who have never learned its meaning; but most are either young or beauti fully unobservant who remain wholly unaware of inner poignancies the words convey: ‘‘a rain of misfortunes.’ It is a boijing rain, seemingly whim sicai in its choice of spots whereon to fall; and, so far as mortal eye can tell, neither the Just nor the unjust may hope to avoid it, or need worry themselves by exjjeeting It. It had

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

selected the Adams family for Its scaldings; no question. The glue-works foreman, stabiding In the doorway of the brick shed, observed his employer's eccentric approach, and doubtfully' stroked a whiskered chin. ‘‘Well, they ain’t no putticular use gettin’ so upset over It,” he said, as Adams came up. “When a thing happens, why, it happens, and that’s all there is to it. When a thing’s so, why, it’s so. All you can

Doris Has His Nnmbor

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do about it is think if there’s anything you can do; and that’s what you better be doin’ with this case.” Adams halted, and seemed to gape at him. “What—case?” he said, with difficulty. “Was it in the morning papers, too?” > “No, It ain't-in no morning papers. My land! It don’t need to be in no papers; look at the size of it!” “The size of what?” “Why, great God!” the foreman ex-

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

iii fcCpt’jri

BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

OUR

claimed. “He ain’t even seen it. Look! Lc|ok yonder!” jAdams stared vaguely at the man’s outstretched hand and pointing forefifnger, then turned and saw a great si\gw upon the facade of the big fact<ry building across the street. The leVuers were large enough to be read tvVo blocks away. I > f’After the Fifteenth of next month

SATURDAY, FEB. 17, 1923

—By ALLMAN

—&y AL POSEN

this building will be occupied by the J. A. Lamb Liquid Glue Cos. Inc.” I A gray touring-car had Just oome to rest before the principal entrance of. the building, and J. A. Lamb himself descended from it. He glanced over toward the humble rival of his projected great industry, saw his old clerk, and immediately walked across the street'and the lot to speak to him, )(To Be Continued.)