Indianapolis Times, Volume 36, Number 271, Indianapolis, Marion County, 26 March 1925 — Page 12

12

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SYNOPSIS Chink)#, exultant and just (dxteen, beloved and only daughter of an oiifaahiqned couple, Jonathan and Jennie Bryoe. experiences a wild sense of joy when Arthur Sontag. her ardent admirer, timidly kieses her onreturnIng from her first dance. The advice given by popular Dolly Bacon tj be humorous has made Chickie popular in one night, but she lonfr, to talk with Mary, her chum, wno is little concerned about pleasing men. thinking she may know sot'ething of ’ OVe 'GO ON WITH THE STORY By Elenore Meherln It was Saturday. So many things may happen on a Saturday. She put on her blue sweater with the frilled white collar and cuffs. As she looked into tht, mirror she smiled dreamily—prettiest girl on the floor—she glanced at herself through Arthur’s eyes. When she kissed her mother, saying, "I suppose Mary and I’ll go to the movies"—she wondered if Jennie had ever been so all caught up in a lovely haze because of Jonathan whispering in her ear? Jennie, so plump and settled —ah, no! She walked with the grace of a happy young Princess to the ancient two-stcry gray house where the Blakes lived. Mary was watering the garden, holding the hose high over a stubby old Breath of Heaven and the white roses climbing up the parlor window. "She’s finished!” Chickie thought gayly, her mind going back over endless Saturdays when she had waited hour after hour for Mary to finish her tasks. Saturday was a gray witch of a day In the Blake household; much baking; much scrubbing. Each one had certain work to do. Mary had to sweep the hall and stairs, help make the beds and bajce two mammoth cakes tb fill the family sweet tooth over Sunday. Then, provided, of course, as she was fond of saying to Chickie, one of the Infants didn’t throw a fit or swallow a buttonhook —she was free. Mary was somewhat irritable as a matter of habit, for the reason that her brothers and sisters were continually ridiculing her out of all the graces she so admired In Chickie and which she tried to cultivate. But her family insisted that she remain commonplace and sensible. They Interfered with her imagination wherein she liked to walk in majesty; one of these terrific, queenly Hplen.i at whose glance men turned to-stone. They had a way of saying! "Say, come out of It! You're only Mary Blake. You can’t fool us with your royal highness airs.” Mary detested this familiarity. She •nvled Chickie and wished in her heart that fate had made her an only child. • • • | XT | OW sselng Chickie so fresh I and cool, the pretty hair in I x ~1 deep waves and the frilly collar on her sweater, her eybo, narrowed, "Gee, you’re all dolled, Chickie. Bet you haven’t done another thing all morning. A fat chance you’d have In our house to be anything, but a clod. Why, Jimmy even makes fun of me because I round my finger nails. But I notice he thinks points are pretty cute when you wear them.” Chickie sighed. Darling old Jimmy! He did think her pretty cute. And he was so good to her and Mary. Didn’t he take them to Keith’* every other week? And waffles afterwards! Jimmy was Mary’s older brother —-twenty-three now. Often on Saturday’s he used to come home early before she and Mary had finished with their weekly feast. He would sit on the table, teasing them, grinning at Chickie. Indeed, he was much her brother as Mary’s. Even more, because Mary often flared up furiously at Jimmy, but Chickie always found him adorable. Now Mary , said—"Oh, yes? Darling, indeed! Perhaps you wouldn’t think so If you had to darn his socks.” Chickie laughed. But she thought.

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with a pang. "Isn’t she mean today!” They went up thp wooden steps to the kitchen. A warm sniff of gingerbread floated through the screen door. Mary cut a huge triangle from the cake she had made. 'We might 'as well eat in peace and quiet before the others come.” They pulled up the.'r chairs.* They had just dug their elbows comfortably when a rich voice called over the banister. "Mary! Mary! dear!” At the note of hesitation, Mary shot a swift, eloquent glance at Chickie, saying in exasperation: “There! Now our plans are spoiled.” Bn* she answered with inquiring resignation: “Yes, mother. Clilckie and I are just having chocolate.” “Lucy phoned.” Mary brought her cup down to the table with a bang. "Lucy! Well, what does she want?” “She wants you to go over for an hour.” An hour! Well, for Pity sakes, if Lucy Adams thinks I’m going to play nurse girl to her kids every blessed Saturday ” "Mary! Why, Mary ” “Well, I don’t care! It’s not fair, mother. I’ve just worked like a slave all morning, and now Chickle’s waiting for me.” “But she onl;, wants you for an hour.” Mary slumpad into her chair, her eyes blinked. She waited for Chickie to speak. And Chickie toyed with her cake. She what Mary expected. Y:h onMhis blithe, momentous Saturday, when adventure awaited her on every corner of Thirtieth Street, when she wished to saunter along In thn spring sunshine chatting with Mary; stopping to look in shop windows; when she wanted most achingly to see Arthur Sontag, to hear what he would say—on this sweet day—she had no wish to trundle the children of Lucy Adams up and down the slumbering, unromantic Twenty-Eighth Street. But Mary sat there waiting for her offer. She gave it. • • • ALF an hour later Mary was jouncing a baby buggy, holdk_J ing Lucy’s two youngest, one at the top and one at the bottom, and Chickie had the twins by either hand. Little George had eaten a cookie and the crumbs were smeared all over his mouth. Mary wiped his face and turned the baby on its side. She gave Chickie a knowing glance,

Puzzle a Day

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Ol 101 101 101 o_o_o_o_ % ~ i HIZIZIZ* id [i igrr?

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her lips curling a little: “This comes of falling in love!” Chickie flushed “You mean having all these children?” She added valiantly: “I don’t see where love has anything to do it.” “Oh, you don’t!” “Well, everyone that loves doesn’t Mary gave her a quick appraisement. "Awfully wise, aren’t you?” "What about yourself, Mary?” They lowered their voices, speaking eagerly, now and then blushing and laughing. They did a great deal of this hushed talking; this mysterious speculation. They Tendered bitingly about life, about loVe, nbo Jt their own mothers and fathers and about these older Blake girls. They were always talking about Lucy—Boor Lucy! Lucy was only ' 28—the oldest of the Blake family—she was married five years and already had four children. They pitied her. Lucy returned, her arms loaded with bundles; her brown hair flying. A.s she approached, all the little Adamses began to yell at once. Lucy dropped her bundles, seeming to have a dozen arms, gathering them to her and cooing happily. “Hush, nowi mother’s little precious: hush now.” She turned to the two girls, giving the a little box of chocolate peppermints, saying with deep gratitude: “You’re Just angels! 1 don’t know whatever in .the world I’d do without you. By and by, when your turn comes, I’ll be around and give you a hand.” They looked ct each other, their faces crimson and then began to titter. “Did you get that?" Mary whispered after they bade Lucy good-by and were walking down the block. “When your turn comes! Well none of that for mine! I can thank my sisters for opening my eyes.” / "Oh everyone doesn’t have a hard time like Lucy does,” Chickie interrupted. “No, that’s what Lucy thought five years ago and I suppose mother didn’t think that too, when she was young. Look what they got!” Chickie glanced at Mary, and closed her ears. What a grating way Mary had of poking these unpleasant things right in your nose! Chickie preferred to wSve aside such solid realities as children with grubby faces. She wanted love to be as she dreamed it, an undefinable sweetness that folded about her, along with music in her ears. She could never couple love with peeling potatoes; with putting fresh papers on the kitchen shelves; with rushing downtown on dollar day to buy rompers for fat little legs. Lucy Adams might do this and call It love. Martha Blake, Mary’s mother, might do it. Chickie had other fancies. She often saw herself walking on some mountain top, a magnificent, laughing fellow at her side his arm about her. They would watch the sun set or the moon rise. Thby would kiss. At this touching moment the picture became immortal; Chickie’s thoughts went no further. • • • pTjT|OW all her dreams were conI N I centrate<J on one tall, brown--1 i haired lad of nineteen. What was he doing today? Was he tremulously searching the streets for a chance meeting with her? Was he remembfring, like the scent of flowers, the toi h of her lips on his? She forgot Mary and drew a sigh from the very Inside of her heart. “Well,” Mary said| - gasping, "breathe in the whole earth, why don’t you?” Chickie laughed and stammered: “Oh, isn’t it a porfectly gorgeous day?” Mary mocked. “Gee, Chickie, I didn’t think you’d fall so hard!”

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Sees the world in rosy tints as she stands on the threshold of womanhood with life still before her. She discusses problems with her friend Mary.

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Poaed by Edythe Elliott and Ida Belle Arnold of the Berkell Players. Chickie Thinks the Lot of Her Married Friend Is Hard. She Discusses It With Mary, Who Laughs at Her.

Chickie flounced about. "I’m sure I don't know what you’re talking About!” “Oh, you don’t, hey? Well, there he Is, standing right on the corner. For pity sakes, Chickie, now don't ■tart in to giggle.” Chickie felt all hot; all shaking from head to foot: she didn’t dare to glance in the direction of Mary’s eyes, but she waited, her breath swelling so she felt that it was tearing her in two. "Is he coming over. Mary?" “Is who coming over?" Mary bantered. "I thought you didn’t know what I was talking about.” Chickie managed to look up. Young Arthur calmy swept off his hat, but gave not the slightest evidence of rushing to her feet. They passed on. dhickie trembled as though she had walked through a flame. She was unbelievably hu-

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mi Mated; afraid of Mary’s thoughts. Until presently Mary relieved the tension with an exciting, “Gee, didn't he get red, though? Gee, Chickie, he’s crazy about you.” Chickie could have thrown her arms about Mary's neck. She whispered softly. “Do you think so, Mary?" "Well, do I?” Chickie drifted back into the music’s warm glow of her dream. He cared for her. From the heights of sweet ecstacy, she sighed wistfully.

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CHAPTER 111 SWEET SIXTEEN C r ”““l HICKIE stood in the hall, where the telephone was, w., listening to a voice. Her heart swelled up with such a thumping she could scarcely hear. A laugh came to her lips. She managed to say: "Oh, yes! Why, yes, that’s all right!" She put the receiver in a dream on the hook. Pulses throbbed all about her throat and in her heart.

Arthur asked her to a show! Asked her—why she hardly looked at him. Wanted her to be ready in half an hour. She walked about the room draw* ing in her breath. She stopped before the white bureau and absently picked up the program of her first dance, scanning his name, the lines he had drawn through other names. The things he whispered in her ears— * ‘pretty ” —"sweet. ” All that—and his blue eyes going down into her soul, and, oh! the sacred moment on the corner when his head had lowered. She drew her hands together, trembling. A glowing shyness, because of this exquisite sweetness they had known together. Romance lifted its shining wings, flashed her thoughts miles beyond the present from this casual Invitation to the movies to the flaming moment when Arthur would drop upon his knees, his face all white with love, and gently ask her to marry him. It would be beautiful like that There was a love scene in the play. Chickie lived the tender scenes. When the hero took the gi-1 in his arms, she dropped her head, her hand curling in Arthur’s. She whispered softly. "Arthur— Isn’t that lovely?” He grinned—That made her feel ashamed. Yet, that night when he said with boyish crudeness. “Say, Chickie, gee! If's lots of fun going around with you. Say—let’s do this often,” she was entirely satisfied—meltea as though he spoke some quivering poem. • • • H r ~ER days became sweet with the still music that ran beneath all the commonplace. They went often to the movies. They took walks. They phoned. Chickie dwelt in a flame of expectance, waiting the moment when his eyes delved into hers, to hear him say: "Chickie, I love you!” ,Her Imagination was a soft fire making pictures. Sometimes when he called at night she would sit at the piano and play the treble, making up her own bass to the poignant song, “Call Me Thine 'Own.” She was carried away with sweet yearning. She fancied he would come and stand behind her, that he would reach over, cover her hands slowly with his, draw her to her feet. They would be swept together like rivers, sparkling, tumultuous. Once, coming to the last bar of the music, she stopped and turned expecting to see his eyes dark pools of fire, expecting to see him dumb

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with emotion. He rubbed hie hand over his brown hair, swung over to' her with a. "Gee, Chickie, you like those melancholy things? Say that’s awfully funny. Give us a little Jazz,” Yet, there were moments so sweet they dropped into her thoughts like an immol-tal fragrance. One night, after a show, they bL'od before Chickie’s house. Quiet like an old faded canopy stretched about the secluded street. Its si-: lence whispered with forgotten things—dim pulse of sorrows—mur-il mur of vanished Joy. They looked up the street. "It’s early,” Arthur said. “Let's take a walk.” They went to the place where they had stood those months and months ago . Chickie’s breath was faint. Was he remembering? Was he all trembly now? The moon came up like a cold, silver ball and floated quietly into the embrace of purple x mists. It rested there, sending down vague ladders of light to the house tops. “Oh, Arthur, remember?” Chickie murmured. "Look out there—that's beautiful—” M “Yes.” Then after a pause: “YrW like things like that, don’t you, Chickie?” She liked them so much 3ust then she felt her heart a cup of warm tears melting and running over. She answered, "Don’t you, Arthur?" “Sure! But most girls don’t. You’re different. You’re not a bit like others.” She no longer felt the pavement under her feet; she no longer saw the hills nor the sky; she was one of them; one with the sweet, indefinite harmony. Just that little incident kept her imagination warm for weeks. She was the eternal woman aching with love, waiting for this obtuse, insistent young male to awaken; to receive the gift that trembled In her hands. (Cintinucd Tomorrow! (Copyright, King Feature Syndicate) SMART APPAREL On Easy Terms F E D E* R A L CLOTHING STORES 131 W. Washington St. White Furniture Cos. Tom Qnlnn Jake Wolf Better Furniture— Lowest Prices—Personal Service. 243-245-247-240 W. Washington gJH