Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 31, Indianapolis, Marion County, 16 June 1925 — Page 12

12

CHICKIE

Chiekie (Helena), only daughter of Jonathan and Jennie Bryee. loves Barry Dunne, a young lawyer with Tufts A Lennox. Wealthy Jake Munson, friend of Janina Knowles and Amy Heaton, tells Chiekie ho considers Barry's feeling only a boy’s love and that be will be waiting when Barry has jilted her. Ila Moore's father expects to engage Barry to represent locally the Gull Steamship Company of San Francisco, and Ila invites him to tour the world with her party. When Chiekie accuses him of loving Ila, a quarrel follows and he leaves on the ‘.."lp. In desperation she telegraphs b m when she realizes she must endure the consequences of her love. Her parents, ignorant of her plight, favor Jake as a suitor for Chiekie. In Barry's absence Jimmie Blake renews bis attentions. When Barry tells Chiekie ho has been married to Ila for two weeks. Chiekie takes the name of Mrs. John Clayton, buys herself a wedding ring and goes to the country homo of a widow. Mrs. Agnes Robbins. for a vacation. Sho writes that anew position will keep her away from homo for a long time. Dorothy Wrenden. a hotel clerk at Lancaster, agrees to forward Chickie’s mail under her assumed name. Chiekie becomes the mother of a tiny girl. She receives a message that her mother is dying and answers, “Coming.” Chiekie leaves with the baby in the SB of her nurse. Emily Farris, sha stops at the doctor’s he er the baby is dead. GO on wrrn thb story By Elinore Meherin S HE clenched the table, turning her head away, biting her a- 1 lips. Then sho asked faintly: "Are you sure! I thought it moved—” "It didn’t move." But she went up to it then, touched Its lips, stooping down, laid her face against it. And cried and couldn’t stop the tears. Oh—such a little forlon thing—never to have cried —scarcely to have stirred. Now it was gone—bleakly—like this— But the doctor said: "It’s better so, Mrs. Clayton. It had no strength—none at all.” Sho twisted her hands, staring at them, “Did the cold kill it? Did the wind—perhaps—” "The cold didn’t kill it. I didn’t expect it to last this long. But the cold can hurt you. Why did you come? Why didn’t you send for me? This is bad.” |she told him —and as she spoke she saw Jennie and her father. She was besides herself and mumbled: "Oh, I’ll be too late—Oh, I’d rather die then—She wants me so—” She said that she had starta4-4flf the city, but on the way the baby got so chilled It frightened her — "But this is madness, Mrs. Clayton. You take your life in your hands.” She answered helplessly: “My mother will be dead—Oh—l’m going—I have to go. Oh —what am I to do?” Chiekie went back to the dead baby, stared at it, fingered the redgold curls. “Can It wait till I come back?” "Why, Mrs. Clayton? You can’t do anything for the baby now. And If you’re going to South America—you said that didn’t you—will you want to take the baby all that distance?” No—she didn’t even know when she would be leaving for that long trip now. She kept saying: "My mother will be dead. She can’t live through the night.” She went up to the doctor and clenched his arm. She said: “I have to go. You don’t know, doctor. I’m the only one they have. It will break my father's heart. Oh —can’t you do something—can’t you take care of the baby here for me? Keep It or something—” * • * ■=r“| OBERT EMERSOUN was a jW big man with a large, intel- • llgent face and fine, sharp eyes. He said quietly: "It could be buried here. Yes—you could do that. Do you want that, Mrs. Clayton? Os course, we could attend to that—an Infant’s burial is simple— ’• She began to cry. Leave it—poor little thing—such a cold, lonely way to do. She wanted It laid away kindly. It should have flowers and a little white robe. And someone should go with it—she wanted to know where it would rest. Well—a nurse could handle it. She wanted It named—“ Merle Clayton"*—and a stone or a little granite cross. And she would return soon—oh, the moment that she could — The nurse came In. She held Chickie’s hand and said she’d dress It herself—she’s got a wreath of pink roses or lilies of the valley, Chiekie cried.

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She said faintly: “Oh—everything as pretty as you can ” The doctor clasped her hand: “I hope you won’t suffer from this, Mrs. Clayton. I warn you against it.” SI e looked Into his kind face. She said: “If your mother was dying ’’ “Yes—l know—my mother died In such a way. I trust yours will live.” Chiekie said: "I want It nlcs. How much will it take.” "A hundred dollars, I should think about that.” "But for the stone, too. Oh, I want that! I want to come up here and look at It.” So she left them $l5O. That was a great deal for her. There remained S3OO of all she had saved In her four and a half years of working. But she gave to it far more tfian money—gave it the blithe, singing heart, the high joy tljat had been hers. She was free now—free again. She could go to them. She stood a moment and her finger loitered on the silken hair; her tears fell on the weazened, quiet little face. It seemed a pretty thing to her—a perfect little thing. She kissed It. She went away. And where her pity for it had been •-d the loyalty she had felt was now an emptiness—and now a dread CHAPTER CIV. Homecoming S r "- , ’“1 TRANGE to shut a door and leave behind it, finished and cold, the anguish of the past. Chiekie wept, doing that. It was over—the waiting: the fearing. And she had a little dead child with red-gold hair. They would put a monument on Its grave. She wanted that. Going back now; back to those two waiting so long, in four hours Jonathan would'wrap his arms about her, raise her face in hir, hands. Oh — he would hold her so. She cried softly. Now it was for Jennie and that Jennie might be gone; the blue, dear eyes closed. Now it was for herself and that she had to treat them so. Oh —Mary said she was a selfish thing and what she did was cruel; thinking of herself—not at all of them that loved her so, leaving them so sad on Christmas day. But if Mary could have really known these months; the hour just passed? If Mary had to close a door like that, or if she had carried her little son: all cold against her neck? Chicknie had to do it. Had to. She sank against the red plush cushions. The hum-hum of the wheels at the rails drummed monotonously on her nerves. It was like the wearing and ache of her flesh. She was glad for the weakness; It was a drug lulling her senses: making her thoughts and her fears drift vaguely. It gave her respite from herself. She watched the dust along the road blown In high dreary circles; trees bowing before the wind—dimly in the gathering darkness. Going on and on—going back. Sleep came upon her—troubled. Jonathan opened the door. His bands touching hers were ice. He didn’t take her in his arms. He stood there with his chin doubled, his lips tight. He kept shaking his head. And she knew. All for nothing—too late— But again, she dreamed that as the door opened, Jennie came pattering. She wiped her eyes on the corner of her snowy apron; gave her sly laugh. Sha said: “Home, Chiekie dear! You thought I was dying? Oh —I was only lonely. We wanted you back! We made believe—” But as she said this, Chiekie took something from under her coat and put it in Jennie’3 hands. It was the baby, and it was alive. Jennie’s face grew ashen, her mouth opened. She seemed to totter; to shrink. Then the hall was dark. Jennie wasn’t there. Chiekie was alone, leaning against the living room door. The house was filled with moaning. She awakened, moist with alarm, glanced about her nervously. Across the aisle a womah with a large, florid face and black, straight hair dozed. She had a double chin—her mouth was open. There was no other passenger in this end of the train. • • |Tp HE rush and scramble at the j | station bewildered her—boys i ■ mJ shouting their extras, men dashing for automobiles and the stream of restless humanity pouring and whirling. She held fast to Wildie’s leash. A man screamed, "Taxi, lady; ta: - '.” at her oar. She noddea and followed. She gave the address quietly. And her heart stood still because they went so fast. She was afraid of the word that waited—that she would hear so soon now. She kept pressing her hands; kept talking to the dog, "Going home, Wildie—you and me!” The street was dark; it breathed heavily under Its canopy of silence.

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Her child dead, Chickie returns to her home;

She strained her eyes against the window; she winked the tears back. Then the little yellow cottage. White shades In the living room and lights there- many lights. The driver helped her oat—helped her to the steps. And jhe paused, breathless, on the old post. Why were the lights so bright there 7 Why was that? The front door opened softly—a deep, muffled cry: “Chiekie! Chiekie girl!” Jonathan, like a boy, bounded down the steps, half lifting her In his arms, carrying her. Then she saw his face—haggard —and worn. She clot.ad her eyes. She whispered: “Jennie? Jennie ’ "Ah God, Chlclder "Oh Jonathan—-quick—tell me—” He said—" Corns—-" Half fainting, she followed, clinging to his arm. Half blindly she went Into their room, reached the bed, dropping to her knees. Jennie lay there. Jonathan stooped down and whispered In her ears: “Mother—she’s here—mother ” Jennie didn’t stir —Chiekie heard a faint, gasping breath. She looked and saw the plump, gentle face, white, thin—the nostrils pinched. Oh—but she was there! She was alive—she was left to them. Chiekie reached for the wasted hands, brought them to her lips. And Jonathan said, with a chuckle In his murmuring voice, “Jennie! Your Chiekie! Jennie—she’s come!" • • • T*"" " HE pale lips opened, a flicker of joy, a faint “Chiekie?” Jennie turned—saw her—ah —smiled. Chiekie burled her face against her mother’s arms and cried because of the look In Jennie’s eyes —and cried because her heart was broken so. Oh, Jennie looked at her as though it was an angel come to visit her—as though it were the sweetness of Heaven opening. And Jennie raised her hand a little. She touched Chickie’s hair. Jonathan came over then and lifted Chiekie In his arms and pressed her against his shoulder, sobbing and holding her so tight. She said: "Jonathan —she’s all right—Jennie's all right.” His chin doubled as it had In her dream. He shook his head. “I don't know—l don't know —pray God!” But Chiekie answered, "She is! She is!" She clung to her mother’s hand —hold her—death should not win—oh, there’s been enough—enough— She sat there through the night and knew no pain of her own S’he looked across to Jonathan and smiled. He came over and kissed her —raised her face in his hands, saying again and again: "Chiekie girl —Chiekie—” Once Jennie heard that—opened her eyes wide, smiled. She saij, clearly, "I knew she’d come.” "Mother—you know me—l'm here—” Chiekie smoothed the hair from Jennie’s wide forehead—she leaned down and kissed It gently. Tears were at the comer of Jennie’s eyes. Oh—the peace of these nights and days! Oh —the shelter and the quiet of Jonathan’s arms—the benediction of Jennie’s smile. Die—not now—and Chiekie here. Her coming had wrought the miracle. Jonathan met her In the hall one morning that first week. She was bringing gruel to her mother, Jonathan cried. He said: “Thank God for you, Chiekie girl you saVed her.” Chiekie turned her face away. Another time at breakfast, Jonathan got up swiftly, put his arms on Chickie’s shoulders, staring in her eyes. A startled, frightened look crossed his mouth. “Chiekie —you’re s*ck—Chiekie don’t you feel well?” “Os course, of course!" But he touched her cheeks—he ran his hand under her chin. He said abruptly: "You must rest—rest, Chiekie. Can’t have you sick now." She laughed: "Oh, Jonathan —I feel—l feel—oh, you don’t know—but u if everything Is right again She sat all day with Jennie. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes her mother lay quiet. But a smile on her lips. She wanted Chiekie near the bed. She kept saying: “Chiekie wi’.l you go again? Are you going back?” "Mother —no —no—not for all the jobs in the world.” "You mean it, Chiekie? You’ll stay now—” "Yes—yes—oh I will—” When she was alone in her own room she knelt at her bed. She pvayed. "Let me stay—let me have this—Oh, God—” And she wouldn’t think—she held her mind closed against the past. Oh—blot it out—oh, /cling to these two who needed her and wanted her —only that —and never let them know. CHAPTER CV Convalescence mHE low chair by Jennie’s bed became a sanctuary. Chickie’s spirit knelt there. Holding fast to Jennie’s wasted hand, she whispered in the dark and the silenoe, sending out wistful, pathetic pra rers as though God were listening. leaning down to hear — And if Life had come then with brimming arms, Chiekie would have begged: "Oh, Life, forget me! Let me be. Give me nothing—nothing ever but this, just this: To stay on here” Once, praying so, Chiekie was suddenly back on the road, stumbling through the naked pines, Skin Breaking Out? Purify Your Blood Blotches, eruptions, sores and sallow complexion are the usual signs of poor blood. Salves, lotions and cosmetics can not give real relief. Get at the cause. You can’t have clear, healthful skin If you j liver is torpid, your kidneys weak, your bowels constipated and your whole system poisoned and run.down. Neglect can bring on rheumatism and other serious troubles. Vluna has corrected this whole conditlon for thousands of people. It can make you feel like anew person—vigorous, healthy, with a clear skin, a real appetite, and anew enjoyment of living. Will you give it a chance? VIUNA The. Regulator* J

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

and the baby lay cold against her breast. She murmured brokenly, not knowing. Jennie stirred —after a moment asked vaguely: "Chiekie, are you crying?” “Oh, no, mother. Why should I cry?” But tears were hot on her cheeks; her heart a twisted, aching thing. She fancied the baby cradled In Jennie's arms; fancied that Jennie smiled and touched its hair. Another time, dozing a little, she dreamed of returning to the town, looking for the grave. She couldn’t find It. No stone. She wished to ask the nurse. A man passed, pointed at something, then at her. Another passed, who also pointed. Then many came—dozens—hundreds. They began to shout: "It’s there, can’t you' see? There!” A frantic terror seized her. She looked from one to another. Her knees grew weak. She sank —sank— Something cold touched her neck. Warm hands rubbed here. Martha Blake stooped above her. Chiekie sat up, too frightened to speak. She caught Martha’s sleeve in bewilderment. Martha smiled and said: “Chiekie, fainting! Now you get to bed, Miss—And don’t get up till I call you in the morning. Jennie is aL' right.” ‘She needs me!” “Then save you’re strength. Why, you’re as white and pinched. You can’t overdo yourself like this. Jonathan and I can manage.” (To Be Continued) (Copyright. King Feature Syndicate)

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