Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 300, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 April 1924 — Page 8

8

HIS BMHEES i,WE it Ay by 3ui>y ayres > \ Y y © HEA/SERVICE r >W r '

Bit. IN HUE TODAY The marriage ot Dolly and Nigel Bretherton proves .111 unhaopy one. When war is dedared, Nigel is glad to enlist. He leaves Dolly under the care of Mary Fumival. Nigel U killed and Dolly marries an old sweetheart. Robert Durham. Dolly and Robert sail for America and word comes of the sinking of the ship on which they left England. When Nigel's brother, David, calls to see Nigel s widow, Mary is ashamed to tell him of Dolly's marriage. David mistakes Mary for his brother's wife and asks her to come to five with him and nis aunt at Red Grange. An acquaintance of Mary s, named Evans, falls in love w.th her. Mary writes to tell him ■ hat she iw leaving for the country. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY m F HE went around that evening he might be in time to see her. He changed his office clothes for a blue serge suit; he brushed his hair smartly, and selected his best tie; then ho gave an anxious look into the glass before he went put again into the night. It seemed a long way to Mary’s fiat, and when he reached it he hardly liked to '-mg. He sto >d outsio* the shut door for a mo ae t with- wr? ched s'nse of nervousness. He wondered she would be angry; he wondered Ts she would consider it a liberty on his part to have called at all; he wondered if — with a sudden impulse he lifted his hand to the bell. He heard it go shrilling through the silence. After a moment a light shone through the glass panel of the door; someone drew back the bolt. It was Mary herself. There was an anxious glint in her eyes, he thought, and, although she smiled when she recognized him. her welcome was not quite spontaneous, he told himself. He explained his visit stammering ly: "I wanted to see you again. I am sorry you are leaving. I hope it is not really good-by."’ She had not asked him in, and the light of the narrow hall showed him that everything was stripped and hare. The pictures and furniture had all gone; a couple of large boxes stood one on the other against a wall; a hig packing-case was in the act of being corded. Mary looked around nervously as if wondering what he thought of it all. “The place is all dismantled.” she said hesitatingly. “But if you will come in for a moment ” He accepted eagerly. She shut the door, and led the way into the din-ing-room.

T 66 6 is a proscription for Colds, Grippe, Dengue Fever, Constipation, Bilious Headaches and Malarial Fever. Mothers, Do This— When the Children Cough. Rub Musterole on Thrones and Chest* No telling how soon the symptoms may develop into spasmodic croup, or worse. And then's when you’re glad you have a Jar of Musterole at hand to give prompt relief. It does not blister. As first aid. Musterole is excellent. Thousands of mothers know it? You should keep a jar ready for instant use. It la the remedy for adults, too. Relieve* sore throat, bronchitis, tonailitis, spasmodic croup, stiff neck, neuralgia, headache, congestion, pleurisy, rheumatism. lumbago, pains and aches of back or joints. Rjjralns. sore muscles, chilblains. frosted feet and colds of the cbest (It may prevent pneumonia.) To Mothers: Musterole la also made In milder form for babies and small children. Ask for Children’s Musterole. 35c and 65c. jars and tubes. urn Better than a mustard plaster —Advertisement. STAGE-DRIVER FOR 38 YEARS Kentuckian Says He Used to Have Bad Spells of Indigestion Until He Began to Take Black Draught. Over the mountain roads between here and Wrigley, which for many years were rough and often danger--1 ous, Mr. F. M. Caskey, of West Lib- [ erty, Ky., has carried the mail for [thirty-eight years. t Winter and summer, rain or shine, leach day Mr. Caskey has driven his Iteam of mules up the steep trail and nack again, so that his friends and ■teighbors may have their daily mail. ■And now. although 66 years ojd, Mr. ■Caskey, hale and hearty, daily can be Been driving his sturdy mules over the Inountains to Wrigley. I At one time, however. Mr. Caskey Kas not in such robust health as he ■ now—so he told a recent visitor to Liberty. used to suffer a great deal with he said. “I would have fgas on my stomach and a tight feeling in my breast, an uncomfortable feeling, atid. after a few days. I would have a sick headache. At times it felt like my head would burst, I would get so constipated. “I had tried remedies, but didn’t get results. One day someone told me of Black-Draught. Since then It has been a family medicine with us. I found, by taking It when I had these Indigestion spells, I could ward off the headache. So I keep It In tpe house and have used It over ten years.” • Millions use it. You should. jRMgg; Eili 4 x' -^Advertisement.

Here, also, everything had gone Wit a small table and a couple of chairs. A small fire was burning, but the room looked deserted and cheerless. The table was strewn with papers. Many were torn into pieces, and some of the fragments had fallen to the floor as if a -draught had caught and whirled them down. "Please sit down.” said Mary. Her voice was nervous. She remained standing near the fire, holding her hands to the blaze, and now young Evans saw that the slim third finger of her left hand was barred with a wedding ring.For a moment he stared at it writh blank eyes. He was sure she had not been wearing it when they had met before; his heart began to beat with a sort of slow disappointment. Almost as if she could feql his gaze, Mary half turned and looked toward him. She moved her hand quickly into the shade of the folds of her black frock. “It is kind of you to come.” she said. ”1 did not like to. ask you, but I am glad to be aWe to thank you |M| “I BEG YOUR PARDON FOR HAVING WORRIED YOU.” for Nil you did for me the other night.” “I did nothing. lam sorry you are going away. It is very far?” “Yes —down in the country.” „ The reply was evasive. He resized that she did not mean him to know her destination, he began stumblingly to put his wish into words. “I wanted to ask if —whether you would mind if I —if you would let me write you sometimes? I won't bother you much, but if I might write some times —” There was a little silence. Mary was looking away from him now, and down into the heart of the fire. When she spoke her voice was kind buts rather cold.

“I am afraid I must say no. It isn’t that I —that I don’t want you to. I am afraid you must think me horribly unkind and ungrateful, but —oh, I don’t think you must." He rose from his c-halr and moved across to where she was standing: his young face looked very earnest. “I wouldn’t' worry you. Id write very seldom: but —I shall be eo sorry if —if we never meet again.” The color was fluttering in her cheeks; the hand half hidden In the folds of her black frock twitched a little. ' “You don’t understand!” she broke out helplessly. "It's not that I don’t want to see you again, but —but I want to leave all my old life behind —to start afi-esh. I—l1 —I haven't been so very happy here that I wish to be reminded of It all," she added, with a catch in her voice. He took her hand —his own daring astonished him. Such a small, nervous hand it was. He felt all at once as if he wanted to help her, to be kind to her, to interpose his broad young shoulders between her and the world’s buffeting. “I know It must seem awful presumption,” he said * r ather unsteadily. “But” —he stopped and rushed on again—“l’ve never taken a fancy to any one before —till I met you, and—” She lifted her head and he saw that there were tears in her eyes, though she smiled. “Why. I’m years older than you,” she said tremulously. “You're only a boy! It’s very kind of you. Please don’t think I’m not grateful; but it’s quite, quite impossible.” “You mean that I’m not the sort of fellow you could ever give a thought to—that—” There was something so boyish in his appeal, her heart softened toward him. ‘lt’s not that, but —" And now she turned her face away to hide its quivering. “I loved a man dearly once, and I can never care for anyone else.' He let her hand go—very gently. “And he is—dead?” he asked. r “Yes.” There was a little silence. The fire leaped and crackled in the grate, casting wierd shadows over the bare room. Then young Evans moved back to the table without speaking, and took up his hat. “I beg your pardon for having worried you.” he said; and his voice sounded older and more manly. “Please forgive me” He held out his hand. “What is there to forgive?” she asked him smiling. “You-have been so kind to me.” He walked into the hall, and she followed him. The front door stood wide; a little maid was helping a man drag one of t'he big boxes out to a waiting van; it looked very heavy and cumbersome.

Young Evans went forawrd. “Let me lend a hand,” he said cheerily. The little maid stood aside, redfaced and breathless. Young Evans raised one end of the big trunk in his strong arms. “Ready?" he asked. Together they carried it out into the darkness and down to the van. As they shoved it into the back of the cart, the light from a lamp fell on the* label attached to the handle. Young Evans looked at it, and his heart leapt. This would tefl him her address.

IS -THE V, If OSTRICH PLUME CHORES,- GIKPLY Yf F a nrt I Voo about MIGS REALLY, I -TvAiUK RSUC lb - vdHEkl -THEY 1 PRIZE FAGI-IIOU MAG svAE FIRGY WIORE _ CALLED AUTO rr above every- beek j otU -the rr before ~fU* Ti * TvApOs ELGE! DECLINE GlklCE c,F\rM BROS- . I OP DEAR, IF" I "TPE-tiME o<s~Tk\C\\ \ G REVJ A / ' 13 fr COULD 0)JlY GET FEATHERS VOEPE <- BEARD \ = ,hj " . 1 gJ lives iy] hopes for -the '*"**J^| y MERRY VJ\~PqvJ HAf-lO POLL A CONVEBaEK ® J

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—

f g°°d 11 sure, \ rememberN Amine is the beautiful .flaming A ■S™*! IJJJfKON -JW WM ! 1 r— f PASSION.THE KIND THAT 6MAWG AT YOUR oKfimomrocuf or irap P heartsvwmqs and twobc. m® cuspc, Svm Iwom 7 U ~T jV POW> ND 6R\Pt M THft COLO,

Ibsw<*J i\ __ m'l rj ,p^,uOij," HENlrt’ iNiTo-me • NA/AGjPN SHOP To HAVE A LITTLE REPAIR. \VORK DOME - IT WAS AFTER. HE MISSED THfc D OOR BY ABOUT FIVE FEET \THAT HE DECIDED TO HAVE HIS PLEASURE CAR, ENTIRELY REBUILT - (Ng) J

MOM’N DOF—

J I'M A LITTLE EARLM THIS J PZ [Z\NO IT MIGHT BE A 600D IDEA L f MORNING - L WANT TO PUT t S TO POLISH UP HER TYPEWRITER, i 1 THESE POSIES ON THE NEW [ TOO - LVE SIMPIW GOT TO GET ‘ I STENO&’S DESK AND TRW TO J S A STAND IN WITH THE GIRL J | MAKE A HER J 1 ; > _J x

He bent closer to It eagerly, and then a little puzzled frown bent his straight brows, for the address on the label read: "Mrs. Nigel Bretherton, The Red Grange, Selmont,—shire.” CHAPTER XXI Nigel’s Home Miss Varney straightened out an imaginary crease in the white bedspread. and stepped back # pace to look round the room with well-satis- , fled eyes. “If she doesn’t lih4 this”—she ap-

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

pealed to David, who stood In the doorway watching her amusedly—“l am afraid she will be very difficult to plase." “It looks very nice,” he admitted, with mannish indifference. "They had no room like this at the flat, at any rate.” Miss Varney sighed. “Poor Nigel! And he loved his home and the country so much.” A little cloucf, crossed her gentle face. For a moment she lost herself Yn retrospection.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Chick Had the Wrong Dope

Now that he was dead and gone she blamed herself that she had not cared more for her younger nephew. David had always been her favorite. She wondered now if perhaps Nigel had guessed as much. It seemed impossible thak she would never see him again, or hear his teasing voice. Tears filled her eyes, and splashed on to the white lace of her black bodice. David moved towards her, and laid a hand on her arm. “Don't cry,' ha said. "Perhaps it’s

/ WmMM ( A p,K * EI Bill) f oo nooA l ON A_r theatec? ) ( , soc*Gt.sY soch | Y. mix, ( WwivjLrS WMEM \ r |4 rr OuR CrAMtj COMEDY \ I VOU V<mOW ? -pt |j ; I? -AND SOME VAUDEVILLE! \ GAS VAS HOME. | JLf ! I ACTS INCLOOIMG, A \ WOW “TO DO? & ~|| ) '! TfT fl M AGIO AM AND TRAPEZE) \ V

Sounds Pretty Godtl to Us

f H IS THE SUBLIME ECSTACY WITH WHICH THE MEADOW HEARKENS TO THE TRILLS OE ITS LORELEI ,TWITTERING AMONG THE HONEYSUCKLE VINES"

B>rruiA*T J f— AIOW,TA6-1 WJT A^ST TA - 0 % f Y 1 x_ I VOL) 7D TAK.F VOUR CHOICE I kFCOW.F \ | ' OH, ÜBS SoP 7UFSF TWO COINS'-A 3 L 6, I 'HAWT J SOMMA 6WE A. AMD A DIMF y —v r./ -- - \ ✓ : 1 1 DIDMT TWWK IT \ C OW-UE \ VOU DOMT kMOLd THE VALUE L vWOOLD BE MICE T' BF ) Imi \ TOOIC TH' j OF THE COIMS, BUT I'M y to. , J M nu . c ,l CUQOOSTO kMOVJ JUST ~> { l Akfc j and L YOU CHOSE , \ TV &66BSTU j/ , L—m . x— 71. -— —.-- j ..

r HARD AT IT ? /m-M- I. T WELL -AH-H-H -U| ( j~ THEN CONFOUND IT- j NOTICE MOU’Re EARLM S L THOU6HT I'D | ] USE POLISH ~ AND ) OF LATE - VOO WERE I POLISH UP J rrm S NOT MN COUGH r" EEHIND BEFORE - THERE j MISS APPLE'S H/j S SYROP - !? r must be a THPEWRTTER- j || ' ill -is:;:

in for tha beat—and he went out as he would have wished.” Miss Varney stifled a sob. She wiped her tears resolutely away, and tried to smile. "I’m an old silly. I know. Forgive me, David. And now we must hurry, or the child will be here before we are ready. Tell me again what she is like, and if you think she really and truly cared for Nigel.” j “I am quite sure she did,” Bretherton answered quickly. "I should say she cared for him tremendously; she.

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

FRECKLES .END HIS ITtJLENDS—By BLOSSER

looked broken-hearted when I first saw her. We shall have to be very kind to her. Aunt Flox-ence. She will be able to do with all the petting and coddling you can give her.” “Poor child, she is more than welcome." Miss Varney stood on tiptoe, and dropped a kiss on Dcvid’s chin. “I think its’ so good of you to have her here. She ought to be very grateful.” She went away hurriedly, leaving David standing in the doorway of the .room that had been his brother's.

TUESDAY, APRIL 29,1924

3m\ THAT JUST th t wwy? MEN ?<£ f ARE SO TICKLE! HE’S ONLY BEEN GONE A WEEK AN'. SEE WHAT A COLD, FORMAL r£, f LETTER HE WRHES! YOU CAN SEE HEr r .'., r.r. M, 1 | —(^l

Miss Varney had certainly done her utmost Y>r the comfort of her guest. There were flowers on the mantelshelf and dressing-table, books od a low shelf, a cushioned chair and a writing table, and a small cheery Are burning in the grate, for the summef seemed to have gone and the afternoon was chilly. , What would she think of it? he wondered, a little curiously. She had only been to the Red Grange once before, so she had told him. (Continued in Ottr Next Issue)

—By MARTIN

—By TAYLOB