Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 66, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 July 1925 — Page 20

20

CHICKIE

The Sequel to

Chickie (Holena) is the only daughter ot Jonithan and Jennie Bryce o£ Indianapciis. To start >.fe anew alter her child dies and B?rry Dunne, her sweetheart, .iiits her to marry wealt.iy Ila Moore. Chickie goes to Chicago '.or employment. Sarah Dillon, the Abbctt sisters, Amy Heaton. Stella Wilson. Marv Biake MePike. Janina Knowles and wealthy Jake Munson are "hickies home-town friends. Jirnmje Blake, a childhood sweetheart, who still loves Chickie, accepts a position in Honolulu. Chickie goes to the home of her employer, Norp Willman, as companion for his daughter. Barbara. Lee. his son, loves Chickie. Their sister, Edith (Mrs. Dirks Potter), secretly loves Timmy, an actor. Chickie is asked to be a bridesmadi at the wedding of Barbara and Pauli Scott. At the rehearsal, Myra Kmg recognizes Chickie and tells Edith of her past life. Edith orders Chickie to leave. Lee attempts suicide when Chickie confirms the story. She accepts a position in the, office of George Edgeman. w'here Luis Lamarck. jritnu ol the Willmans. has a studio. While Edgeman is away Lamaick tells Chickie that her past means nothing to him. The climax conies when he insinuates that because of him she is receiving more ealary than the work is worth. She tears up her check and leaves. The case of Elena Castanaday, youthful unmarried mother, impresses Chickie. Chickie returns home with her parents and begins training as a nurse. At a nurses’ dance Chickie meets Dr. David Ramm. GO ON WITH THE STORY

By Elinore Meherin And gradually a feeling that she had made the drawing grew, Phyllis said to her nervously: Vl’d do something if I were you. You may not get your cap it it isn’t cleared—” Chickie answered: "Yes—l’ll get the cap—that’s ridiculous —” But she went to the phone and Illed Jonathan. How were they? I, no —she didn’t have time to run It for dinner. Mary left some ncy handkerchiefs for her? Stunng! Then she said: "Send Wildie l iwn here, will you. I’ve time for walk.” "Shall I tell him to trot along and read the sign on lamp post—” "He can find the way—he’s been here enough—” A chuckling roar—" All right, Chickie girl—invite him—here he is. Go ahead now—you have your party—” Chickie said: "Wildie! Hello, dog!” Then she made a long, twittering sound with her lips. Again and again—harking. Shrill, short cries! Wildie was in a very rage of excitement. Chickie laughed. “Open the door, Jonathan —he’ll get here!” She went out and waited. And in a few moment, Wildie, foaming at the mouth, half crazy with delight, bounded against her. She caught his neck roughly. She raid, only half laughing: "Hello, dog —what do you think —T may not get my cap. Well, it’s true —” She walked along swiftly. Os course, she’d get it. She was bound to have it. Suddenly she stopped. She was remembering Martha Blake's words: "Walk bravely in your own thought of yourself. Be your highest self, with such persistent faith that the talk of you will falter and grow dumb before the serene, conflicting presence of you—” She was afraid to do this —afraid of the slightest reprimand. W T hy? Myrtle didn’t care—other girls shook off their troubles. She brooded on hers. Because she* had this thing to hide; because she feared that any question might suddenly uncover what had been. . . . and there would be real cause then for her dismissal. She was a coward in her heart. She was letting the past whip her and the thoughts of others even in a trifling thing like this. She kept raising her head—higher —higher. No*fshe’d not go on like this—sneaking away. She’d walk right into the office —once and for all meet things— The next day she did this. Miss Simonds looked Up and smiled: “I’m glad you’ve come. Miss Bryce.’’ Chickie said in a low, hoarse tone: "Do you believe that I made that drawing, Miss Simonds?” "Did you make it; Miss Bryce?” “No—l did not.” ‘I believe what you say. I have faith in you—great faith in you—” Chickie was overcome. She gave that uncertain, tremulous laugh: ’’Oh, really? I’m to get my cap?” “Well —the day isn’t here yet for that—” "But you think I may—” Miss Simonds smiled: "I think you may—” It seemed to Chickie that the biggest battle of her life was won. CHAPTER XLVII Service It was nearing Christmas time. Chickie went home often for dinner. In all the windows along Thirtieth St., were holly wreaths. And in their cottage there were three, each tied with a smart crimson bow. Last year they had hung up wreaths, too —waiting for her. She thought of this as she slipped her

Puzzle a Day

r i . 150 £2O

Among the ruins of the Pickwick Club house In Boston were found these six boxes. A policeman, to get a better view, moved one box and :<tood upon It. Then he discovered that he had accidently made four rows of three boxes each. Which box did he move and to what location? Last puzzle answer: By changing one letter but always forming a common English word we get the word “panel” from the word "docks” in the following fashion: DOCKS LOCKS LACKS LACES PACES PANES t PANEL I

key in the door. The moment it jpened Jennie called: "That you, Chickie, dear?” Then there would be a little hurried rolling up of her ipron and the sewing hidden; bits jf ribbon and bits of lace sticking out here and there. As though Chickie didn’t know the delightful things Jennie was making. The two of them had packages hidden everywhere, and it was "Don't open that! Don’t look there! Come, now, you’ll have to wait!” And red berries in old jardinieres, in every corner, so that all about the place was this glad, piney breath of •the holidays. Chickie wondered if these two were really happy now; or if, underneath, their hearts were bowed. Did they keep thinking of the last year and all those letters and the loneliness? Did they mourn for the blithe, golden thing who was gone, and for all those dreams of her that now could never be? And was the loss hard to bear? Was the shame hard? How did Jennie feel when she went out in the morning for her shopping? Did her blood flash when neighbors spoke, especially if they said, “And how is Chickie now?” Late one afternoon Chickie met Mrs. Bigelow. She was waddling along, her plump, short arms filled with packages. Roy Bigelow, her only son, had been in love with Chickie during theii* high school days. He was a long-necked, ungainly youth. Chickie used to tease him and laugh in his face just to see it grow red and shiny. Now Mrs. Bigelow said to her’ ‘Well, Chickie Bryce, so you’re home for good, are you? I was just wondering about it.” She regarded Chickie —her chin drawn up and wrinkled like an immense walnut. Her eyes settled on pinned to her blue suit. "You’re not looking downcast, I see. But as I was saying to Roy last night, you done well to come home. You might just as well take your punishment—not that I’d ever be one to throw stones. But curdled milk is curdled milk, and no use trying to make out that it's whole. “You do well to admit it, Chickie, And as Roy said to me, who knows but what some man may be willing to overlook it —seems they ain’t so particular nowadays—” She dropped two of her numerous bundles. Chickie stooped and picked them up. Setting them on top of the others, she looked directly into Mrs. Bigelow's wide, steamy face: “Did Roy say that, Mrs. Bigelow? That’s real big in him. But will you tell Roy for me, please, that no man shall ever have a chance to overlook me and my faults!’’ Chickie ran up the steps, shaking. That night she said to Jennie: "Mother, do the neighbors talk much to you? Do they make you very unhappy?” Jennie fair skin turned faintly pink, b there came a light into her eyei She answered with pathetic f mality. “Your mother is proud o you, Chickie dear.” “So they do—do they? Some day they’ll have cause to talk! You Let they shall!" She dreamed of this childish revenge. Oh —she would do some magnificent and splendid thing—ram her nobility down their throats; s ower above them like anew, flaming Joan. The day their white caps were given she felt this mighty stir of pride like an inspiration. They stood in the pretty garden court just outside the nurses’ home—the sixteen girls whose probation was finished. The superintendent spoke simply: "Let the cap be your symbol. You have accepted the ideal of service. Keep it glowing before you that its light may touch with beauty the lowliest tasks. “We can all do the heroic, and showy things. Tie> take no toll on our courage. But only the biggest, finest spirits can lend a glory to the scrubbing- of a bed, the washing of a cup. “Here in this daily, monotonous service is our test —test of the valiant and the strong. May you meet it well, remembering that the meanest duty ahs a dignity, since it is done to soothe another’s pain. “And. remembering, too, that the richness of your life is measured not by what you acquire, but by what you experience: noi by what you can gather to yourself, but by what you can lavish on another.” A talk like that touched Chickie to the heart. Yes—-she had learned all that—glad now that Life would let her serve. When she put on the white cap her thoughts brooded—how puzzling one's very own soul could be. And a year ago did she dream that she would be walking through these corridors, serene again; that she would be wearing this uniform; that she would even feel herself absolved —well, somewhat, surely— Yet the holidays came warm with

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memories. She wrote to Agnes Robbins. sent her a little snapshot of herself in the cap and apron. She sent too, a great box of toys for little Bertie Groom—make the poor little kid laugh—. Chickie had an odd idea that she, more than others, owed gifts to little fellows like Bertie Groom. She ought to go out of her way to help them. Only last Christmas she had awakened early and in the mirror opposite her bed saw the black lines under her eyes; sw her • nostrils pi. c.ied. She had gone down to the river. It was brown and heavy with mud. Then Wildie whined and jumped up to lick her face because she cried so. . . . Only last Christmas . Now —this week there were other girls in the world going through the same anguish. Even in the maternity ward was one. This ward had about it a sunny, festive air. The supervisor, in Chickie’s opinion, was a most lovely person and acted as though all the babies were her own. She bought name cards fcr all the Christmas babies. They were pictures of the little Christ-child and were tied with red ribbons to the baskets. There was a card like that on Fan Toy’s child. Fan Toy. was a Chinese girl who looked like t doll with her black, shiny hair wound in a braid about her head. She was well educated and raised, but her father had disowned her now. She lay hour after hour with her ,ong, pointed fingers covering her face. The nurses wefe kind to Fan Toy. '-But all she ever said was this —swiftly: “What am I going to do?” The same panic—the same deadly fear. Answered now for Chickie. An Infinite kindness allowed her to join this bright legion’ to become a part of this vivid, many-sided life. She felt that it was enough—that she would never ask or even want a single other gift. She would go on years and years like this. And every day would add to her interest —to her fervor. She was carriage nurse now, and wheeled the table with all the instruments about the ward when the doctors made their rounds. David Ramm came every morning. He had strong, slender hands. Chickie watched them. Every finger seemed alive. She watched him when he stooped down; when his quiet eyes became tense. He always seemed moving in a magnetic enthusiasm that was bright and that the patients felt. Once there was a girl—very young, very pretty—who had been knocked down by an automobile. Her face was horribly torn. The doctor labored over her mouth as though he was bound to turn it out a work of art. But the girl had an inkling that she was hopelessly disfigured. She didn’t cry about it, but her eyes haunted Chickie. One morning Dr. David stooped down and said to her: "We'll be all rlgh , Susie. We did a good job. We’ll be able to smille as sweet as ever.” The girl's eyes filled with the funniest tears —half laughing. Chickie wanted to say: "Oh—you’re glor-

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A hint she irthy win her white cap after all encourages Chickie

ious—do so much good—make people look like that!” He happened to glance at Chickie then; her dark eyes dewy, uplifted—a'rapt smile on her face. He turned quickly to the next bed. One afternoon toward the end of January Chickie was waiting at the corner for Wildie. She often called him over the phone now and he always came. Today there was a small box tied to his collar —one of those brown boxes with two enormous chocolates in them. This was a little trick of Jonathan’s. As Chickie untied the box and Wildie waited for his share some one passed, saying with a laugh: “Give us a bite?” It was Dr. David. He stopped and talked to the dog. “Who is it? Wonderful fellow, isn’t he?” “Indeed, he is. And he’s mine, Jake gave him to me. He’s the very best friend I have.” “Who—Jake or the dog?” "Both—” "So? I suppose you’re going over to Jake’s party next Saturday?” "Oh, no—” He glanced down sharply: "I thought you’d be there. Why not?” She laughed uneasily: “Oh—being as I’m a woman with a purpose, I don’t step about much or high.” "Don’t you taka any recreation?" “Ho—Me and a dog has lots of good times.” “You like theaters, I suppose?” “Yes—somewhat.” He gave her a questioning look: “Might we go together some night next week, Miss Bryce?” She flushed: “Well—well—l’d like it. I better not. We’re to have a quiz Oh, I think I better keep to my rule, and that says I’m not to go out nights—ever.” She felt very pale saying this and half feared to glance at him. He said in a puzzled way: “That’s very remarkable ’ ’ A few weeks after this incident Jake came to take her for a ride. As they walked down the long corridor Dr. David came toward them. (To Be Continued) l Copyright, King Feature Syndicate) KEEP YOUR SCALP Clean and Healthy WITH CUTICURA

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

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