Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 33, Indianapolis, Marion County, 18 June 1925 — Page 14

Ehickie

Chlckie (Helena), only daughter of Jonathan and Jennie Bryce, loves Barry Dunne, a young lawyer with Tufts & Lennox. Wealthy Jake Munson, friend of Janina Knowles and Amy Heaton, tells Chlckie he considers Barry s feeling only a boy's love and that he will be waiting when Barry has Jilted her. Ila Moore's father expects to engage Barry to represent locally the Gulf Steamship Company of San Francisco, and Ila Invites him to tour the world with her party. When Chlckie accuses him of loving Ila, a quarrel follows and he leaves on the trip. In desperation she telegraphs him when she realizes she must endure the consequences of her love. When Barry tells Chlckie he has been married to Ha for two weeks. Chickie takes the name of Mrs. John Clayton. buys herself a wedding ring and goes to the country home of Mrs. Agnes Robbins for a vacation. Dorothy Wrenden. a hotel clerk at Lancaster. agrees to forward. Chiekie's mail under her assumed name. Chlckie becomes the mother of a tiny girl. When she learns that hes naother is ill she leaves with the baby In the nurse’s absence. The doctor tells Chlckie the child is dead. When Jennie recovers Jimmie Blake again calls on Chickie. She returns the money Bargy sent for the child and keeps her parents ignorant of her Dlßt GO ON WITH THE STORY By Elinore Meherin CHAPTER CVII The Visitor EHERE was a bundle hidden under a heap of old shoes in Chiekie’s closet. One morning when Jennie was feeling so well she began to sing a little, Chickie took the bundle and rode downtown. She was going to give it away—shirts, little gowns, blankets. She was nervous about it and put it on the floor under her feet. Someone nudged her elbow. “Pretty big lunch you carry these days, Chickie!” Sarah Dillon, the homely, good-natured girl who lived around the comer, kicked the package with her toe and slid into the seat at Chiekie’s side. Chiekie’s face was crimson with shock. She had a picture of the paper suddenly springing apart. After a moment she answered flippantly: "Oh, my, yes—a turkey and two or three young squabs.” She wished to get off the car. Sarah rambled on: "Not working, Chlckie? Neither am I. You heard about ma, didn’t you? She got struck by an automobile. Oh—that’s so-—you’ve been away. Well, I’m home running the shebang now. It’s all right—but give me an eight-hour job any day. Didn’t run off to get married, did you, Chlckie? I heard you were engaged. Just think. It’s nearly five years since we left school —getting old—you haven’t changed a bit”—she surveyed Chickie with open admiration—"pretty as ever. Lord, Chickie, I thought you’d be picked off long ago. Imagine Mary Blake beating you to It— but you never can bet on a man. I suppose you’re waiting for a millionaire — are you?” “A crown, Sarah —a country estate and a limo to go with every hat. That’s enough! Here’s where I get off” The bundle weighed heavily. Sarah looked after her from the car window and waved. A little thing like that oppressed and frightened her. She wondered what Sarah would say—what all the world would say, if abruptly they were to know. She walked quickly to the Salvation Army. There was a desk in the hall—no attendant. Chickie left the bundle and hurried away. No one saw. No one knew—she went along in the morning breeze and the sun. People treated her 1 Just the same they saw no difference in her. She was the same. A sense of freedom touched her. She wished to Intensify the feeling. She went down town to meet Janina. It was noon. As she walked up Pennsylvania St. girls stopped to laugh and chat. How was the farmerette? Glad to be back? Have a great time—back to the soil and all that— After each greeting she felt lighter —more secure. She could take up her old place again—not the same—but only herself would know. • * * mANINA had a little shopping to do. Picking over ribbons in Pn aisle counter, Chickie happened to glance toward the elevators. She saw a stout, rosy girl with blond hair step out —come toward her. Her thoughts collapsed . . , the girl In the town store —the girl who had sold her and Agnes Robbins materials, ribbons baby things— She said to Janina: "Let’s get out —close In here—” and deliberately turning her back, rushed to the door. Tired? No Pep? Just Dragging Along? Do you get out of bed in the morning tired, listless, beaten before' the day starts? What chance have you to enjoy life until you correct that condition? Vluna starts the whole machinery to working as It should—acts on torpid liver, sluggish kidneys, lazy bowels. Almost before you realize it. you begin to walk along with anew swing—full of vigor, able to eat, sleep, laugh and really live. It has taken thousands out. of bed and put them on their feet. Will you give It a chance?

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Janina gripped her arm. “Well — what’s up?” Chlckie dashed along, half leaning on Janina’s arm. Finally she said: “It was someone I saw—l didn’t want to see—that’s all " “You poor loon! Can’t you give a more accomplished snub than this? Dash for death —the latest in rural elegance. Deliver us!” Chlckie was thinking. "J wonder if it was Lena? Was it? Was she coming to meet me?” Safe now, she wasn’t at all certain. Perhaps not, but It looked like her. If it were Lena Joyce and she said, "Oh—how do you do, Mrs. Clayton! I heard the baby died. Awful sad. I felt sorry for you—” she would blurt that out right before Janina. Fear grew heavy within her. Any day she might meet people from the small town —Dr. Emerson or the nurse who had bought lilies and little pink roses. They would recognize herTcall her ‘‘Mrs. Clayton”; speak of the child; ask after her health; had she suffered any setback; did she like the little monument That night Chlckie sat in her room after Jonathan was in bed and Jennie was long since asleep. She began to count up all the people who knew; who might some day confront her. She got up and walked about the room in her bare feet —twisting her hands. It would come out—it was bound to She dropped on her knees, covering her face. No —that wouldn’t happen—it wouldn’t. She asked God not to do this to her—she grew frantic —prayed wildly: "Don’t dare! Don’t dare!” A mad restlessness seized herget away—miles—oceans distant—the three of them —hide in some remote place For days she didn’t leave the house. She sat in the garden with Jennie. Then, often looking into her mother’s gentle 'eyes, she had a wish to kneel before her—press her face against her mother’s knee —tell it—oh, if she might just share It with one other—if she might tell it all—just once. Then she would be free * * * mONATHAN noticed her pale. Jonathan went about these days with a chuckle. One evening he came Into the kitchen as she was cooking the dinner. He swung her about, his hands on her shoul’ders. “What’s the matter, Chfckie, girl? I don’t hear you sing so much. Did you leave your heart up there in the mountains?” "Ho Johnny much more than that.” “Do you want to go back for It? And Jennie and I are holding you?” “Flatter yourself, old boy! I left not a thing there that I ever want again.” He was a persistent old fellow, that Jonathan. “Do you hear from the lad, Chickie, girl?” “Now, which of the seventy-nine, your lordship? And who la it wishes to know?” ‘‘Your mother thought you were pining for him, Chlckie.” “Ho—Jennie and her days of lavender. Jennie might die of love, Jonathan, but Jennie’s daughter won’t. So there —now shush!” “Never you mind, Chickie, girl; and what color do you like?” “Color? Are you out of your mind? What do you mean—color?” “Answer—blue or red, or perhaps brown?” Jennie came in, and he asked her. Jennie answered, “Blue.” “Then blue it is!” For Ajuite a while he went about laughing at them and saying, “Blue It is!” One noontime he came home and shouted through the open door: “Blue It is—see for yourselves!” And the old giant seized them and rushed them to the street. An automobile, small, closed, but painted blue—blue as millions might have made it—stood at the curb. They were aghast. They thought he had taken leave of his senses. He laughed at them. He said to Chickie: ‘‘Your old dad knows a thing or two of high finance!” After much hedging he told them: ’Your friend, Mr Munson, Cnickic He invested for me—that oil money of mine—” “When?” “Oh—shortly after that deal of mine. You remember when you went to see him. I visited him. I took counsel with him. He advised me. I doubled the $1,500. Been a good deal over a year, you know. Fine fellow —that Jake! Step in.” He looked like a mountain towering over the steering wheel. He sat forward and spread out his elbows, but he could drive. That night he wrapped his arms about Chickie: “It’s for you, Chlckie girl. Your old dad can give you a thing or two that some lads couldn’t! How about the little springs now? Ready to sing?” She lowered her head against him —covered his grizzled cheek with her lips—“ Jonathan—oh you darling —darling—” Some joy left—oh yes—they loved her so—those two—she should be glad for them. She would.

Puzzle a Day

Tom has a several horsee. In the same stable he also keeps birds. There are eighteen heads and fifty feet in his stable. Can you tell how many^horses Tom has, and how many birds? Last puzzle answer:

1 a m

\ Start at path marked 6 and go to It 1 to 2; 2 to 3; 3 to 6; G to 5; 5 to 2; 2/ to 4; 4 to 5; 5 to 1; 1 to 4; 4 to 3; Mid you will have walked every path Hlthout retracing a single step.

She hears from the country and fear grips her again .

HE took long walk. 1 * with Wildle when loneliness oppressed l her; when Jimmy's Insistence made her desolate. She said to herself: “Oh, I should be glad—l should—" But she wasn’t. Fear never left her—a stray word—a searching look set her trembling. She was yearning to go back to the little town — hear if anything was said —look at the grave. One day she went to the library—found the weekly paper of the town. It was an Issue of seven weeks previous—just after she had left. She saw the name, “Mrs. John Clayton." There was an account of her disappearance . . . then an explanation —and comment. This filled her with terror. She sought bther issues of the paper, but could find none. She went out of the building in a state of suffocation. Not long after this coming home one afternoon she saw a machine at the door. It was spattered with mud—dust-covered. She started at it. It was directly in front of the cottage. She went quietly up the stairs—into the hall—voices in the living room—a man was saying: “Mrs. John Clayton—" Chlckie shrank she cowered against the wall. Jonathan said: “No one by that name—” A pause—‘‘Well—oh—l’ve made a mistake— “Miss Bryce—Miss Helena Bryce—” "My daughter—” “She was up in the northern part of the State?” “Yes—are you from the Farm Bureau—she's not going back—” “I see—well—Miss Bryce was a friend of Mrs. Clayton’s—we want to clear up—” Chlckie lunged. She crushed her hands over her heart. She said: “Oh, you wish to see me—” and stood at the door, ashen—smiling—waving Jonathan and Jennie away. The room spun about her— CHAPTER CVIII. The Summons. |r~p I RACKED her; Come to beat her down, I— J shout It to the world. No! Dying, she would fight. She stood up now with the smile frozen on her deadening lips, motioned them away. The man said: “If you don’t mind, I have business with Miss Bryce.” She repeated: “Yes, business.” and leaned on the table, unable to move, seeing dimly Jonathan's towering form as it passed into the hall—seeing in a blur the red, heavy face of the stranger. She shut her eyes. Dreaming—yes, a nightmare she was having. She would open them—laugh. But she asked, gasping, “Business? Well?” “Sorry, miss—sorry—nothing to he frightened about. Just want you to clear up a little. You see, the coroner didn’t like the looks of things. Dare say It’s all right, all right, but there was a lot of talk around after you left. Want you to clear up about the baby’s death.” A cry, maddening, imploring, “Oh, oh!” She tried to tear words from her throat. “The doctor—oh, the doctor knows!” “Yes —oh, it’s all right, I guess. Don’t be alarmed. We just want you to straighten things out. Coroner isn’t satisfied. Just want you to come back up there with me.” “With you—you? I don’t understand.” "Nothing to fear, miss. Just an inquest.” She pressed her fingers into her cheeks, stared, repeating again and again: "Inquest—inquest—it’s dead —long ago—a long time.” “Yes—this Is Just an investigation. No charges—none at all. Coroner wants your statement. You see—it was rather hasty the way you left—been a lot of talking done. Queer thing for doctor to take charge ihe way he did. That’s all. You’re only to appear as a witness.” "Go hack —up there? With you"” She took a little step, wringing her hands. Her voice broke. “I can't — I can’t ” "Better, miss; better for you to come quietly. That’s the only way ] to do. Makes It neater all around. Just want you to tell your story—why you left—how and when the baby died —why you didn’t stay for the funeral. The baby died in your presence—in your arms—then you left ” “Oh —ah ’’ And It was suddenly in her arms again—a weight—a coldness —an agony. Waters rose—the room swam—voices thrumming dull, like blows. “Died In your arms clear It up; no charges—just that you, being the mother ’’ * * • A" ND she saw Jonathan walking In the hall. Jonathan hearing. She cried out. The sound died on her lips. 3he took a step and moaned—shrill, desperate, agonized; “Go! Jonathan go! Leave ” She saw her father turn—saw an astonishment as though his heart staggered. She saw that and flung her hands outward, pitching headlong to the floor. Chaos about her. Jonathan, the man—a struggle; Jonathan ordering: “Go, get out of here! What have you done?” The man answering: ‘‘Sorry, sir—sorry ”

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Broken sobs. God of anguish—that was Jennie crying so—like a child in terror; “A baby? My Chickie? A baby? Oh, did you say that—why ” Chickie called: "Mother, mother reach the door—dash from them — hurl herself out—die die —die now—'A form towered. She crouched. It greW bigger. Jonathan her father—darling old Jonathan. He lurched—gray-visaged, no longer a thing of flesh ahd proud, tender eyes. A man of granite; emptied of life; emptied of joy; a stone with death beneath; death chilling the thought from him. Blindly as one groping through a dream of horror he reached out —he caught her: "Chlckie—Chickie! Stop! Chickie—deny it—it’s not so! Tell your mother —tell her-*—” He shook her. “Great Heavens!” For she sank—she clasped her hands, her head dropping back. She sank against him. The cry that sprang from Jonathan’s soul went into hers and killed it. Then ehe tried to run—rush with lowered head along the floor. But he stooped, caught her, wrapped her in his arms—great, sjnewy a- u? His voice rumbled, “Get out —dlrn’t I tell you. You don’t take her, no! Get out!” And like that, straining her, he raised her to his shoulder, carried her from the room. (To Bo Continued) King Feature Syndicate)

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