Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 25, Indianapolis, Marion County, 9 June 1925 — Page 12

12

CHICKIE

Chickie (Helena), only daughter of Jonathan and Jennie Bryce, loves Barry Dunny, a young lawyer with Tufts A Lennox. Wealthy Jake Munson, friend of Janina Knowles and Amy Heaton, sends Chickie a costly pin with a love note and arranges so her father does not loie on his oil investment. Jake tells Chickie he considers Barry's feeling only a hoy’s love, and that he will be waiting when Barry has jilted her. Chickie urges Barry to think of their marriage as a present possibility, even though he believes he cannot afford it. He is hopeful when Ila Moore’s father expects to engage him to represent locally the Gulf Steamship Company of San i'ranclsco, and writes fo r - him. Barry returns with the deal unsettled, and Ila invites him to tour the world with her party. When Chickie accuses him of loving Ila. a quarrel follows and ho leaves on the trip. In desperation she telegraphs him when she realizes she must endure the consequences of her love. Her parents, ignorant of her plight, favor Jake as a suitor for Chickie. To get the opinion of kind Mrs. Blake, Chickie tells a false story of a girl in her own predicament. In Barry’s absence Jimmie Blake renewes his attentions. When Barry tells Chickie he has been married to Ila for two weeks, Chickie tries to drown herself, but is rescued. She refuses financial help from Barry, buys herself a wedding ring, and tells her parents she is going for a month's vacation in the country. GO ON WITH THE STORY

By Elinore Meherln CHAPTER XCV. The Leave-Taking iN a Spring day a year and a Ohalf ago there had been a dif- ___ fereni seal on Chickie’s finger. That was the day of promise. They sat under their tree. He told her, not impulsively as he had the months previous—but with a dark, intent glory in his eyes, he told her that he loved her. But they’d have to wait —wait and wait. Pooh —she laughed. Years weren’t so long. What of five or six and hearts are young! She had taken his face in her palms; she had pressed the fourth finger of her left hand against his lips, making him kiss it, murmuring in a radiance of joy: "Now! Do you see what you have done! Oh, stunning, isn’t it!" She told him he had put a seal on her finger. It was his now—that finger. They were each others —always. Nothing would alter that. Just then a bird winged upward with such rhythym to the sky, the tree swayed so wistfully that tears and songs ran all together in her thoughts. Oh —love was pure and beautiful—a thing of music and of dreams — Chickie looked at the wedding' ring letting the storm and bitterness shake her. Her spirit wasn’t changed she could yet fancy life garmented in silver; yet muse with tender yearning for the sweetness and the youth that was passed. She half wondered in a baffled way, like a child that has been cheated, how all this had come about. The future pressed upon her, inescapable and weighted—iron chains forged to her neck. She wrapped the ring in her handkerchief, tying it in a knot, tucked it under the lining of her purse. Jennie was waiting for her at the door. An excited flush stained her cheeks. "That same young man phoned, Chickie. He phoned twice." Chickie steadied herself on the gate po3t, hot, then cold, with indignation. Persistent, isn’t he?” "His voice is so like Barry’s.” "He’s to cal! again.” Jennie had a letter in her hand. Now she remembered it. "For you, dear—special delivery.” Chickie came up the steps with affected indifference, stopping to pluck the lavender sweet peas. ’That’s from the other, mother. My check—l told them to be sure and Sind it.” It was from him. , Chickie closed her door and stood against it. She was shaking with anger—with a sudden pity for herself. Why need he make it harder—why should he write— * She didn't wish to open the letter: /et she wondered coldly what he could find to say. And as she read, she had an image of his face, with the young, full mouth drawn and haggard: * "I waited till midnight for you on Thursday, Chickie. Then I got your enclosure back on Friday. I half expected this—but will it do any good now to act so rashly? “Perhaps you can think more calmly at a distance from me; per-

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haps you can realize that only the utmost caution and foresight will carry you through this. So I don’t know what you’re going to do if you won’t look at things sanely. Why let this bitterness against me hurt you still further? There's been tragedy enough. "To meet the future you’ll need money. However hard it may be to take it from me, it is surely better to endure this than to run the risk of open disgrace. Look at it that way. "You ought to leave now. It will be better to tell your folks you’re going on a vacation. When it is over you can return. And if you plan well, no one need ever know of this. It has* been done before.

How Much Do You Like the Story of Chickie? Would You Like to Read the Sequel ? SHE story o 1 Chickie will come to an end soon. You You have followed the romance of this girl who is like so many girls you know—you have seen how she gave her heart freely to the man she loved, how he took advantage of that love and finally how she was driven to try to end her life and the life she was to bring into the world. Is Chickie to be blamed for lack of courage to face the world as a mother unmarried? Doesn’t a chance to forget the past! The Times'would like to know whether YOU are interested enough in “Chickie” to WANT to read the sequel. If a sufficient number of reads are interested the sequel will appear in The Times. It is not available in any other form and copies can not be mailed to readers. If you want the sequel to be printed in The Times, write and tell us. Just a postal will do. Address Fiction Editor, Indianapolis Times, 214 W. Maryland St.

‘‘l’m leaving today. I’m forced to. You can reach me in care of the company. Just send me your address and I’ll see that you don’t lack for funds.” __ * • • | HE struck a match and held I W I the folded letter in her hand, I I letting the flame lick along the edge; watching the white, thin spiral of smoke. The tips of her fingers burned. But the charred paper held together, molding itself—a great, black lily. She felt a twisting—then a shiver as when a thing dies. It was the last pulse of her love. She wept because it was so still. Wednesday and Thursday she went down to the postoffice seeking an answer to her litter. She had given her address as ‘‘General Delivery” and her name as “Mrs. John Clayton." Standing in the wide corridor, she glanced about furtively and hurried' to tne window. Friday the letter came. She rushed from the building, walking swiftly. The strong regular handwriting reassured her. Then the signature, “Agnes Robins.” She liked the name of Agnes because of “David Copperfield” and his beautiful love. People with that name had a kindness and a pharm for her. Mrs. Robbins was a widow, and since the death of her husband the previous year she had managed their farm. She did the cooking for the men. There were nc other women about. It was lonely. She advertised for a boarder, more because she wished company than for the money entailed. If Mrs. Clayton wanted a rest; if she didn’t mind solitude and the company of the farm hands at the meals, then the widow was certain she would be pleased. It was an old house, but the room was airy 'and latticed with grape vines. The rate was nine dollars a week for board and room. Chlckie bit her lips, reading all this —solitude and the company of farm hands —such a sparkl'ng vacation—so gay more than a year agothat August on the lake—oh, the heart-free preparations! And swinging in the hammock. A year gone —brightness and the light, happy song—gone Fever sped through her. She could feel her eyes bum. She hastily wrote her acceptance. Agnes Robbins might expect her on the train Monday. She‘went to the bank and drew out all her money. She didn’t need to take funds from him. There was pride in that. That January when she had received the raise and had so jubilantly said to him: "I’ll save—why, in a year I’ll have s3oo—enough to -furnish the living room—” he had frowned. * But she had saved. Later after her return from the lake and she had waited with such passionate unrest for the day when they might marry, she had saved more. She

Puzzle a Day

Jimmie Gullane drove a golf ball 470 yards in one shot, thereby setting anew record. One of his friends also drove a ball 470 yards, but this was the total distance for three shots. The first shot was 100 yards more than the second and third together, while the third was 15 per cent less than the second. Can you find the length of the second shot.

Last puzzle answer:

■

Solution: A. U. S. bond i£ equal to money.

She leaves home to stay in the country for a while.

thought: “I’ll have SI,OOO and that will be a gift to both of us!” In all she had $Bl3. She took it in currency, putting it in an envelope and sealing it. • • • S she walked out of the bank she said to herself grimly: "Well—shroud and coffin all bought! Bring on the corpse!” She was shaking—a burning hand at her throat —a weakness in her knees. She was afraid that she was going to scream—that she was going to rush against that stone building there and beat her hands; or that she was going to sink down in the street and cry. When she went home and all Saturday, she v/ent about, tremulous —

starting with bitter impatience at the slightest sound. Jennie said: “Chickie, dear —why, you’re all upset! And you going off on such a fine vacation!” They were both in Chickie’s room and she was gathering her clothes — putting them in a trunk Jennie kept running to the kitchen to press out a dresS; to get tissue paper. Chickie hid her face now in the folds of silk. She had a wild impulse to say: “Mother—oh, mother —I’m not coming back—do you know that! Tell that to Jonathan! Oh, yes” Sunday she followed Jennie to the garden. She helped her train the vines. Afterward she combed Jennie’s hair. She tied a blue ribbon at Jennie’s neck —“To match your pretty eyes, mother, darling. I got my eyes from you, didn’t I?” Jennie blushed. She looked up shyly and smiled. “Your father says you did.” She made a great fuss over Jonathan. She manicured his nails to “keep him dashing for the fair ones” while she was gone. She sat on his lap and held her face near Ills. But yhen she t-.-ied to speak no v ord at all would ccme. He felt her tears and said: “Chickie, girl, you make believe. Ah, you’ll not be thinking a bit of ? our old dad tomorrow night.” She said, pleading and quiet: “Oh, nexer think that, Jonathan—Jonathan, darling” She lay awake all night. She got up once and stood outside their room, She wanted to go in and kneel at their bed—kneel there and kneel. If she might die like that CHAPTER XCVI The New Home ( —7"1 T the moment she falA tered. It was when Jonathan 1 * put his aims about her, raising her chin in his great, rough palms. With a roguish chuckle he slipped a $lO bill in her hand. “For stamps, Chickie girl—now mind you write to us every day ” She couldn't bear to have him holding her face back like that—seeing her chin double and the swift tears. “Oh, don’t —don't Jonathan.” He looked at her sharply. "Well—crying! No little spring bubbling today?" Still he held her face. "Mother—look —she doesn’t want to go—likea, us, I guess.” Chickie forced her head down, pressing against his shoulder. She wound her arms about his neck and clung to him. And he laughed, thinking it was Just 1 • sweetness. Just the pretty angel-wa., of her. She whispered against his grizzled old neck: “You’d better love me. Mr. Jonathan—better love me a lot ” Sfie kissed Jennie' and ran her 4and flippantly, tucking up the faded hair. But she didn’t meet her mother’s eyes—nor Jonathan’s. She ran from them with her head down, calling to the dog—hurry—not a moment to lose—or she would drop down before them both and give her aching heart into their hands.

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They stood at the door. She looked back, reaching out her hand in a sudden wild appeal. They thought she waved. She saw smiles on their faces. Tears made her blind. That was the way she left them. She had to put Wildie in the baggage car. So she was alone, and a thing quivered like an alarm in her thought. She sat low in the red plush seat, staring with an intent concentration from the window —a fence with white letters scrawled; a cow, motionless as the shrubs; lihe of trees; .boulders in a dry creek. The throbbing in her mind grew louder; grew frightening. Never coming back—running away —leaving those two —not telling there— She got up quickly and went to the bagage car. She took the dog's nead and pressed it. He gave a sharp. Impatient whine. Her hands trembled. They shook with a strange, internal cold. Seven o’clock—they were reaching the station. She stood on the platform, holding the leash. No one else getting off. The train stopped at Cherry Hills. Her trunk bumped off. the conductor smiling, taking her valise, helping her. Whistle—the train leaving—the quiet, the rythmic heaving of the earth’s bosom—and she stepping into it—the pulsing solitude closing about her. Down the white road came a machine, honking insolently. It was the man to take her trunk, drive her to the house. A little, dried-up, wiry fellow with a twanging voice and a sharp, canny eye. He touched his hat with a short, jerking motion. "Bound for Miss Robbins’ place. Miss? Nice day, ain’t it?” Chickie smiled and took her place beside him. He settled down, a pipe in the corner of his mouth. They drove through the quiet land. Now and then they passed a barn, a lonely farm house and fields with dry stalks of corn. The man gave a Jerk with his head: "Harm’s place, that. Har-

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vesting the corn now,” or "Smith owns that. His w if e ra n away two months ago. Mean fellow, Smith!” Again, with a grunt of satisfaction: "Klbbe—Mr. Harold Kibbe’s place. Farms by a book. City fellow. Lost five thousand this season Just gone. Know Miss Robbins a long while?" "No.” "p-ine woma’n, Miss Robbins. Here we are!” • • • A" IN immense red barn, cows in a pasture; white, rambling •—J house w 'ith peaked roof and an elm tree to the side. All about were the fields. In the distance against the horizon were the hills, pallid and blue. Chickie felt the stillness and the heat. She was oppressed, and at the same time relieved. There was a porch about the house Agnes Robbins came out to meet her. Her sleeves were rolled up. Chicgie noticed that her arms were long; they were beautifully shaped. The hands were slender, strong, but roughened. She was a tall, supple woman, about 50. She spoke in a deep, resonant alto. Chickie stared, .fascinated at her face. She wore her black hair slicked back from her ears, but with very heavy, straight bangs covering her forehead. The eyes were dark, snapping; the mouth severe, passionate, even a little hard. The wrinkles of her neck seemed out of place. They chalieneged the general air of youngness and fire that was in her face. It was a magnetic face, but inscrubtale. (To Be Continued) (Copyright. King Feature Syndicate) FOR ITCHING TORTURE Use Antiseptic Liquid Zemo There is one remedy that seldom fails to stop itching torture and relieve skin irritation, and that makes the skin soft, clear and healthy. Any druggist can supply you with Zemo, which generally overcomes skin diseases. Eczema, Itch, Pimples, Rashes, Blackheads, in most cases quickly give way to Zemo. Frequently, minor blemishes disappear overnight. Itching usually stops Instantly. Zemo is a safe, antiseptic liquid that may be applied at any time, for it does not show. Trial bottle. 35c. large size SI.OO. Zemo Soap. 25c. All druggists.—Advertisement.

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