Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 41, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 June 1925 — Page 12

12

CHICKIE

The Sequel to

Chickie (Helena), now 22. 1# the only daughter of Jonathan and Jennie Bryce of Indianapoliß. To start hie anew after her child dies and Barry Dunne, her sweetheart, jilts her to marry wealthy Ila Moore, Chickie goes to Chicago for employment. Agnes Robbins, Dorothy Wrenden, Dr. Emerson and Emily Faris are witnesses who testified at the corner's inquest when the baby died. Sarah Dillon, the Abbott sisters. Amy Heaton, Stella Wilson. Mary Blake McPike and Janima Knowles are Chickie’s home town friends. Jimmie Blake, a childhood sweetheart, who still loves Chickie. accepts a position in Honolulu. Having decided to live quietly, Chickie refuses the friendship of Ed--sar Manx, fellow boarder at Mrs. anis'. Wealthy Jake Munson, old friend of Chickie’s, sends flowers and asks for a letter. Daisy Brack, Eloise Maxwell, the Ordin sisters and Bobby Jones work with Chickie in the office of Norp Willman. Lee Willman. his son, asks Chickie to go to their country home at Winetka as companion for his sister Barbara, who through an accident is temporai-ily disabled. Chickie is undecided on what to do. <iO ON WITH THE STORI By Elinore Meherlm. She sat down at the old, scratched, golden oak table. It had a tan linen cover; this cover was all knotty with tbs ancient daisies embroidered cTn it. Here, in a neat redwood box, Chickie kept her letters. She fingered them now—the caustic, bold, contemptuous cheering that Janina was forever offering. “So you think you should wear a label, do you: You think you should stand by the wayside and shout ‘Unclean’ to save the dear, pure souls who might be contaminated by your friendship. What are you going to save them from? From life? From emotions? • “Hells bells, girl—don’t pull that maudlin rot. I have nd mind to drape myself In sack cloth and ashes. And I haven’t the impudence of your sweet, good people who insult Jhe intelligence that brought us here. Don’t they? They brand His method of keeping the little old world agoing as infamous —they call it ‘sin.’ They drag a slimy -trail of shameful thoughts across the clean, docent body of Nature— Well, I may join the Salvation Army yet and have my say. “But if I were you, Ch’.kie, I’d get both hands gripped hard on selfesteem. You know you can’t hurt ony one. You know there is no evil in you. “You can only hurt a few shabby conventions. I think you have a right to go on as you are. For the love of heaven, don’t get scrupulous and go shouting your own affairs to a world that is- too sightless and too imbecile to understand." Reading Janina's letter only heightened her agitation. It was all right for Jaxiina to say this. But Barbara Willman would think Chickie was just as young—just as untried as she. herself. She would offer her bright friendship on this basis. Chickie answered this hotly: “I can't hurt her —I know that ■” Her thoughts went in scattered little whirlwinds. Why d|ld Willman seem so anxious to have her go? Could it be that he might care for her? He might go to Winetka for a visit while she was there. Suppose he did? Men had shown her attentions before. They were not hard to rebuff. Two or three refusals, and they had allowed her to go with almost humiliating indifference. All the arguments she mustered left her undecided. In the morning she was pale and went to work trembling. She was taking dictation from Norp Willman when the phone rang. The man’s dark, somber eyes glowed and his brusque voice took on a vibrant, mellow tone. He said: “Feeling better? Good for you! You have letters? Five hundred of them!’’ Thenyfi. pause. Norp Willman ran his hand over his wiry, short mustache. He laughed silently. “Well — can’t they wait? Oh. that’s it. Who? Well, wait a moment —she's here now.” He turned to Chickie. “I’m talking to my daughter, Miss Bryce. You know, she met with an accident. She’s asking me to send someone to attend to her letters. She spoke of you. Will you get ready. I’ll have the chauffeur drive you out." ‘‘Now?’’ “Yes. It’s convenient, is it? She

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may not keep you long. Wait ” Again the softening In his tone: "Hello—do you want Miss Bryce to come at once? What? Three days! My goodness—well—all righ* ’’ He handed the phone to Chickie: "Will you speak to her, Miss Bryce?” There came a rippling, high soprano: “You’re just a love, Miss Bryce. We’ll have the maddest time. You won’t be sorry. Bring clothes — lots of them —I’m dying to have you. I’ve hundreds of letters. It may take weeks and weeks before we get to them. You ought to be here by 1 o’clock at the very latest. Hurry!” Chickie felt warm and limp. Without looking at Norp Willman, she said: "Miss Willman told me to bring a suit case. She says she may need me a week— ’’ “Well—all right—as long as she wants you. I hope it i 'on’t interfere with any plans of yours, does It?” “No—" “Then you might as well leave now. You can drive to your home and get your things—” She did this. She folded Into precise stacks the dainty things Jennie had made for her. She moved slowly as one subdued and helpless. When she strapped her suitcase she said aloud: “I’m crazy—getting hysterics over every little thing—” The chauffeur put her bags in the car, helped her into the deep luxury of the tonneau. They went flashing through roads all golden with sun; all splashed with flowers. In spite of heraelf, Chickie's heart leaped. Such radiant color, such roses and oh, such a lilt In every breeze. She was touched by the beauty and the wonder. She had suddenly a feeling that life was opening in a new glory—a sweetness. Even for her. She clasped her hands. Suddenly laughter rushed to her lips. CHAPTER VI In a New World mT was two months since Chickie had stood in the depot that soft April night, clinging to Jonathan’s arm, praying with all her life tnat at the last moment they would hold her back. Two months. The train has whistled; she said to herself bewildered: “Now — I have to go—oh, now—" Going- away to forget; to be alone; to bring in utter quiet to her heart. She had done this; made no friends; scarcely spoken; so that a muteness held her lips and in the gray, beautiful eyes was a poignant sadness. She came back in the evenings from her walks with Wildie and, standing at her window where the far-off mountains loomed, she smiled, “Another day gone!’’ Another breath between her and the past. She wished that the years would hurry—yeans and years— But now the grimness she had put upon herself was broken. It wan the close of her first day with Barbara Willman. She still heard the laughing—her own and Barbara's; still felt, with a glow in her veins, Barbara’s hands and lips. In a gay impulse the girl had drawn her down, saying "You're just adorable! I declare, you're the most bewitching thing I ever met! We'll have gobs of fun!" She kissed Chickie, then. Chickie dwelt in the memory as in a golden warmth. She walked out on a small balcony giving on a great court of flowers. The buds hung heavy and dreaming in the moonlight. A beam of silver wavered over the still surface of the pool. The hush of the night murmured like a prayer. Chickie remembered another night standing on such a balcony; she had pressed her face against the roses, trembling because of the great joy that thundered in her heart. Oh, life was so sweet; so glad a thing. The world was just for her and for him; only the two of them, loving each other, rushing together on a lighted tide. That night was of a different life. She would never feel so again; never reach out ardent hands demanding and demanding. No— ahe would stand quietly, sensing the beauty, drinking a peace from it. She felt so tonight with a melting and a softness in her thoughts. Lovely here: Barbara needed her. Barbara said it was just gorgeous of her to come. So that was better than bugging fast to a loneliness and a regret. Get away from herself: talk (rally; make Barbara laugh. That wai better; that was braver. For the first time in a year Chickie went to sleep with a touch of gladness in her thoughts. The days went quickie. They had breakfast on a veranda and watched white swans in a gleaming pool. They sat In the garden and read. Chickie combed Barbara’s soft brown hair; then Barbara manicured Chickie’s nails. All the time they talked. Barbara was full of talk. She had an idea that Chickie knew everything—that. Chickie had a thousand

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loves. And love was the absorbing topic of her dreams. What about men? Did Chickie find them thrilling? What did she answer when they proposed? Was Chickie en gaged? Would she rather her husband be terribly handsome or homely and rich? One day they were sitting In a corner of the garden. Grape vines curtained them. It was about 6 o’clock. The tea things were wheeled aside. Barbara had received a letter early in the afternoon. She become absent* and wistful. Now she gave a little tweek to Chickie's sleeve and sighed., “Helena, you never tell me what you truly think, do you? I mean of life. What you think of life . . Chickie smiled; “Oh, no—you mean what I think of love.” “Well —please tell me honestly—how many men have proposed to you?” “Not very many—and I don’t believe a single one had the ring In his pocket. In the future I Intend to demand this as a preliminary to all proposals.” “There—that’s the way you do! Every time I bring up Interesting things, you get ridiculous! I know girls who have had twenty-five proposals in one summer.” “Did you over hear them, Barbara?” “No—but they say so. They’re terribly popular. Lee goes wild when I say I'd like that. He says it's cheap and that a real girl he so vain. He says It's a contemptible thing to lead a man along and that a giri should be ashamed to arouse an emotion she doesn’t intend to accept. What do you think?” “That he's right. But sometimes a girl can't be blamed, it seems. You can't always prevent people caring about you.” “I suppose you’ve sometimes even found it annoying? Oh. I'd adore that! I wish that every man I see would think: 'lsn't she wonderful! Let me kiss her toe!’ But I've not had many affairs at all. Every time I start a nice flirtation, Lee snubs me. I can’t stand that. He says it's the way Edith began—” Edith was an older sister, 26, and married. Both Barbara and her brother bristled with antagonism when they spoke of her. She was a vixen; an empty thing; always butting in. They wished she’d go and live by herself. When they were little and needed a mother, she hadn't ever bothered. But now she was always pushing her face into things. Trying to run them! Edith and her husband were in the East. They were returning because of Barbara's accident. This made the girl quite furious. “Wait till she gets here. She’ll just begin spoiling everything. But anyhow—you were going to tell me what you think of real love. Is it beautiful?” Barbara blushed and poked the edges of her letter down between the pages of a book. "Yes,” Chickie answered. “They say it is. I have a friend, and she says that she would suffer any pain to have known 10ve....it is so glorious. But I think it must be the crudest thing in the world to own one so—” "Does it own one? It does—doesn’t It?” They looked at each other, Chickie's face was white. They didn’t hear the vines parted. Lee Willman stood before them. He smiled. He dropped down on a stool at Bap bara’s feet. "Go on,” he said, eagerly, “I’m here to stay. I heard. Go on.” Neither of them spoke. Chickie felt his eyes moving from her clasped hand to her face. He said "It shouldn’t be cruel, though, even though it does own one. One should he glad to be owned, shouldn’t they, Miss Bryce?” “I don’t know.” She was afraid that he had seen her mind. But he added, with his eyes touching hers: “It should be more beautiful than cruel.” That night as Chickie came from Barbara’s room Willman met her In the hall. “Have you seen the fountain in the moonlight, Miss Bryce?” “Yes.” “Then you know it is worth seeing again. Come for a walk?" She smiled, but shook her head. "1 must write some letters. My father will bo worried if he doesn’t hear.” "I’ll give you an hour to write you letters." “I’m not that quick—” "Please—l want to talk— ’’ “Won’t tomorrow do, Mr. Willman?” His face paled. "Oh—all right, then—” But he stood a moment surveying her. He breathed quickly as though he were angry. Chickie felt the blood surge warmly to her face. She shivered. But the next morning, taking the two of them for a drive, he was exuberant and careless. She found out that Barbara had phoned for him to come. She thought: “I must seem ridiculous to him. I should have taken the walk. He’s not Interested in me.” That afternoon Barbara had callers. Chickie took a book and went down to the little pool. She sat there with her eyes closed. She slept, perhaps a moment. When she awakened in the warmth and fragrance of honeysuckle. Willman was sitting at her side. He said, with his quick smile: “There was a chance for the prince, but I was afraid. Will you come for a ride tonight?” She said simply: “No.”

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Chickie Goes to the * Willman Manson As Secretary to Barbara

His eyes narrowed: “Why, Miss Bryce?’’ “I’m rather tired.” He put his hand on hers, crushing it sharply against the moist leaves. “That’s not true. You wish to avoid me. You’re persistent about it. Why?" An Impetuous fire leaped in his eyes; the willful mouth gripped. He was very close; his voice low. Chickie’s breath ached. She wished suddenly to say: ‘‘Leave me alone—please Don’t! press me about It. Isn’t it enough that I wish to be alone?” He went on hoarsely: “Do you dislike me?” “No —not at all.” “Why—then? What reason have you for refusing so trifling a request?” She raised her head and looked quietly Into his face. There was indeed a thing pathetic in the youth, the fervor and the passion of it. Feeling her eyes, he smiled. He pressed his hand harder on hers. He said as he had before in a tone of awe; “You’re very beautiful.” She smiled. ‘‘Don’t tell me about It, Mr. Willman. If you say things like that, then I am not going to stay here. I mean it. I really do." He sat motionless, regarding her. She tried to draw her hand carelessly from under his. He held It. (To Be Continued) (Copyright. King Feature Syndicate) WASTEFULNESS CONDEMNED BY PRINTERS’HEAP Lynch Makes Denunciation of Salesmen in Particular. Wastefulness In American industrial and commercial life constitutes one of the greatest obstacles In the way of labor's aspirations, James M. Lynch, president of the International Typographical Union, said in a statement issued here to members today. The statement was based upon findings of an economic investigation conducted by the union. “Enormous waste in wealth and manpower characterizes nearly every line of American business endeavor,” said Lynch. “The “middle man’ takes an unnecessarily heavy toll from producer and consumer. Cut Down Hours “I think it may be boldly asserted that four hour a day of labor, certainly not more than six hours, would suffice to produce all the manufactured things necessary to human existence In this country, and that with scientific methods applied to agriculture the farms would yield sufficient food on the basis of an average six-hour day to meet the needs of humanity. “We have come to speak of salesmanship almost with bated breath as the great American art. yet as a matter of fact intensive selling methods are Intrinsically wasteful and of no real service to humanity. “That we are overdoing this selling business Is a natural conclusion if one but reflects upon the manner in which salesmen are greeted In the average office. They are not wanted. They are looked upon as a nuisance. Littio Value “From an ethical viewpoint any talent, beyond knowledge of his product, that a salesman employs in his work must be of little value to organized society, If not downright dishonest. Certainly selling, regarded as a profession, soon shades off Into polite swindling. “It Is not the intention to condemn all salesmen. Some serve a really useful social purpose, but the vocation is overcrowded. “If the unnecesary salesman, the spenders, the wasters, the improvident heirs to fortune, the petty criminals and other humans who have never known work could be induced to engage In useful endeavor, hours of labor could be reduced, working conditions improved and a greater prosperity would be available for all.” Building Permits Reliable Wreckers, wreck. 1136 N. West S2OO Reliable Wreckers, wreck, 1140 N. West. $360. Polar Ice Company, station, 1016 Howaid. $1,600. A. B. Charpie, repairs, 611 N. Keystone, S9OO. Carry Belle, furnace. 1126 Spruce. $325. Sinclair Refining Company, tank. 1030 N. Meridian. $250. W. B. Thomason, garage. 3002 "'Phipps, $250. C. A. Bishop, addition. 1910 Holloway. $l,lOO. M. Sablosky. dwelling, 772-74 N. Miley, $3,200. Marott-Spink Hotel Company, hotel, 2626 N. Meridian. $1,100,000. R. E. Newby, addition. 201 S. Arlington, SI,OOO. Anna Kinney, reroof, 102 Koehne S2OO. J. M. Ritter, dwelling, 109 Berkley. SIO,OOO. J. M. Ritter, furnace, 109 Berkley, $250. Mrs. H. M. Talbott, dwelling. 1221 W. Thirty-Sixth. $4,000. Mrs. H. M. Talbott, furnace. 1221 W. Thirty-Sixth. S3OO. Kingan k Cos., replace. Blackford and Maryland, $1,500. William Ward, storeroom. 102 W. Twelfth, SB,OOO. J. N. Andrews, garage. 425 N. State, SSOO. Elizabeth Schafer, move. 1314 Harlan, $11)00. fc. G. McNeal, addition, -3014-10 Cet: tral, $760. D. Burtor.. addition. 2424 College. i4OO. E. U. Schofield, dwelling, 136 E. Fifty Second, SB,OOO. E. u. Schofield, furnace. 130 E. FiftySecond. $250. A. W. Scanlon, dwelling, 2225 Villa, $2,500. A. W. Scanlon, dwelling, 2253 Villa, $2.000.

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