Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 228, Indianapolis, Marion County, 23 January 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

--Love Dodger By VIRGINIA SWAIN

CHAPTER XXXVII. ' B p "‘““1 ARBARA marveled at the complete friendliness of this Greenwich Village girl whom she had met scarcely two minutes before. Marla was rambling on. "I knew you the minute I saw you. You can’t miss a real Villager, If you're a Villager yourself. I said to myself, ‘Maria, there’s a soul mate for you.’ ” Barbara pondered. ‘‘Where is this place you know of?” “It’s just around the corner from here, In a house owned by a magazine artist. The little apartment that’s vacant has two open fireplaces and old French furniture and a real bath tub, which many Village apartments haven’t. Wouldn’t you like to see it?”, They were interrupted by a small girl who burst into the room, “Say,” she cried boisterously. “Miss Olivero says to tell the newspaper lady she can’t see her this afternoon, 'cause Pierre's burned her hair something awful. She's crying like anything, and cussing too." Barbara's companion laughed. "Ix>oks like fate, doesn't it? Well, if Daisy’s crying and cussing at the same time, we might as well clear out and go look at that apartment. She won’t be fit to speak to for hours and hours. I pity Pierre.” Barbara jose. “If this place is as good as It sounds, I think I’ll take It. The actress who is subletting to me is in town again and would like her- place back. I'm a bit tired of it, anyway.” An astute landlady touched amatch to some logs In the two fireplaces when she saw Barbara and Marla coming up the walk. The rooms were bright and cozy when the girls entered. The large front room had a loftlike balcony with rough wood beams and railings. “Can’t you just see yourself up there, with the old type writer on that Louis Quinze table and the lam plight on those Persian rugs?” asked Maria. “I should think anybody could write on a balcony like that. Ido free verse, you know, and novelettes. In a way we’re-sis-ter craftsmen.” The landlady was waiting. Barbara looked again around the attractive room. “Look at those book shelves,” cried Maria. Barbara turned toward the woman. "I’ll take the place,” she said. “It seems a sudden thing to do, but why not? I like it and it’s not too expensive. When may I have it 7” “In ten days,” answered the woman. ‘‘.There's some work to be done on it first.” • • • M— 1 ISS FURNIVALL looked up expectantly when Barbara en- ■■ tered the office hue that afternoon. “What is it?” she asked. “You look excited.” ‘‘l am. I've just decided to be a Villager—rented a cunning place with two fireplaces and old French furniture —and found a pathetic lit-

Today’s Cross-Word Puzzle

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HORIZONTAL 1. Acquirements. 14. Mid-day. 18. 'Wireless instrument. 16. In place of. 17. To attempt. 18. Defect. 19. Dried root of an orchid. 20. Masculine pronoun. 21. To slide. 22. To obstruct. 23. Metftl. 24. Cow food. 25. To please. 27. To breathe noisily in sleep. 28. Conjunction of supposition. 29. Decks on boats. 30. To slope. 31. Hawaiian food. 32'. Possesses. • 33. .Gaiters. 34. Bench. 35. Guided. 36. Lets it stand. 37. Mental endowments. 38. Correlative of either. 39. Robbed. 40. Medicine for bruises. 41. Bobbin. 42. French coin. 43. Plot of ' land surrounded by water. 45. Narrow shelf. 46. Variant of “a.” 47. Beach. 48. Political social group. 49. Don. 50. Peaks. 51. To rub clothes again. 53. Pairs. 53. Picture impressions engraved on steel. VERTICAL 1. Those versed in the science of the human evolution. 2. Center of an apple. 8 Bashful. 4. Upon. 5. To magnify. 6. Extols. 7. Not working. ' To he seated. <

tie" child poetess with hair like a hayrick.” Miss Furnivall leaned back in her cha'r. "What!” she exclaimed. “Exactly,” cried Barbara. “I’m going to see what there is Jn Greenwich. It’s too stiff and dull out here. I’d like a chance to meet people who arc doing things and living as they want to live and defying the world They must be a brave and happy lot.” “And an unwashed lot,” adfled Miss Furnivall. “Why. Betsy, don’t be a smug old standpatter. You know lots of real people have come out of the Village. I,ook at Susan Glaspell and Edna St. Vincent Millay and Floyd Dell. And, anyhow, you should see my fireplaces and the little loft where I’ll do my writing." Miss Surnivall’s brows were still supercilious. “Did you look for cockroaches?” Barbara burst into laughter. “Dear me, Betsy, I believe you’re jeealous of the Village. You just don’t want me to move out of your neighborhood. Now, isn’t that it? Why don’t you come and live with me?” Miss Furnivall shook her head. “I wouldn’t fit in, and you know it.” “Well, I want to know what it is now, at any rate. So you mustn’t be a wet blanket, Betsy.” • * * Ms~ ~~“ ARIA apeared to help with the moving. Barbara found her sitting on the piano when she ‘first entered, carrying her-suit case and bandbox. The trunks had already been deposited in the middle of the room. Maria flicked the ashes off her cigaret and kicked her heels against the piano. “Hello, there! I just came down to give you a housewarming. A house that’s completely empty isn’t nice to come into, for the first time. Shall I give you some tea?” A samovar was gurgling in a corner. Maria followed Barbara's gaze to it. “Yep, I brought it. But don’t tell anybody. It’s Daisy's. And if she finds out 1 took it, she'll fling a cat fit. She was'Swvay for the day. Doesn’t it look nice in your apartment. You’d better just keep it.” Barbara laughed. “I haven’t gone in for petty larceny yet, Maria.” They unpacked Barbara’s belongings. Maria buzzed about, daking herself useful in many ways. The apartment became more and more homelike. At dusk. Barbara took off her apron. “This Is the first time I’ve felt at home for many moons, Maria. It’s a darling place. I have you to thank for finding it for me.” Maria laughed. “Don’t mention it. I liked your looks. And you'll probably get tired of me hanging around. I’ll be here so much.” “Where do you live, Maria?” Barbara suddenly. “Me? Oh,, just anywhere. At present, I’m camping with Daisy. But she’s getting hard to live with. My verse hasn’t gone so very well, but some day it will. So I don’t worry much.”

9. Command to a horse. 0. To slip away. 1. Crocodile birds. 2. Placed on a tiny golf mound. !. Shallowness. B.* Banners. 19. To sting. 11. Grasps. • 22. Presses. 23. Light-haired person. 24. Small flies. 26. Arbor. 27. Roofing material. 28. Pertaining to a type of Greek architecture. 30. To separate a word into its smallest parts. 31. Mob in fright. . 33. Was upor one’s feet. 34. Sesame (plant). 36. Rock. 37. Weights. 39. Scanty . 40. Liquids measure. 41. Incline. 42. Thigh bono. 44. Struck bv a gun. 45. Iceberg. 46. Vigilant. 48. Lair. 49. Spikelet on barley. 51. Second note in scale. 52. Seventh note in scale. Answer to Friday’s crossword puzzle: *

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T> ARBARA MOVES TO GREENWICH VILLI A GE —HER Ja roommate DISAPPEARS WITH BARBARA’S RINGS

Barbara glanced toward the back of the (house. There were two tiny nooks of bedrooms under the eaves. Then she spoke impulsively. “Why don’t you move in here for a few days, Maria, until things strjil./hten out for you? There's room enough.” Maria shook her head. “Guess I’d better not. You’d get awful sick X>f me. I have terrible moods sometimes. Let’s go out to dinner.” She pulled out a coin purse and spilled some nickels and dimes and g. solitary quarter into her lap. “I can eat.” They went out together into the snowy street. Maria capered like a small boy. They dined at a little Russian case in a basement, where for the price of an ordinary restaurant meal, they were served with European delicacies and with trifles of nuts and sweetmeats foV dessert that Barbara had never tasted before. • * • r"y iSS FURNIVALL’S attitude toward Barbara changed perceptibly. Sometimes she glanced away in confusion when Barbara looked her way. On two occasions she refused to go to lunch when Barbara asked her. Miller gave Barbara most of the leading stories. Miss Furnivall semed glad to yield the more strenuous assignments to her. But the relations between them were not comfortable. Barbara looked in at Miss Furnivall's door one afternoon. The desk was cleared and Miss Furnlvall’s wraps were gone from the hatrack. She went out of the building with a vague sense of trouble disturbing her. It was not time for Miss Furnivall to be gone. When Barbara reached Washington Square it was quite dark. The fires inside her little apartment were lighted and one lamp glowed In a corner of the living room. There was no sign of Maria. Barbara went to the kitchen and put the tea kettle on before she took off her hat and coat. Then she passed by the fireplace again and stopped to look in the flames as she went. The door of her bedroom was closed, although she had left it open that morning. She opened it and went in. The

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By Martin

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

dressing table between the dormer windows met her gaze. Its drawers were standing open, with their contents streaming over the sides to the floor. The articles on top of the table were disarranged and ■’-he scarf hung half off. Barbara ran toward it. She searched frantically in the lower drawer. Her ring box stood open. U was empty. • • • B’% ARBARA Jerked the drawer out and emptied its contents on the floor. Then she searched through the ribbons and gloves and handkerchiefs. But the rings were not there. She went out to the dining-room. The silver had not been disturbed. Passing through the living-room, she noticed for the first time that the samover was lighted. On the table beside it sat a cup and saucer. The cup had contained tea. A bunch of mignonette in a glass of water was beside it. • A slip of paper protruding from beneath the saucer attracted her attention as she was about to turn away. “Dear Barbara: This is a fine howdy-do, you’ll think. But you don’t need those rings, and I do. Daisy got mad today and turned me out. Just to pay her back J’ll let you keep the samover. I shouldn’t wonder if it was as valuable as these two diamonds —it’s been in her family for ages and ages. "If you don’t want It, try hoca-" ing it. Some day I’ll pay you back •for the rings. I’m really sorry to have to do It. for you’ve been nice to me. But a girl must live, mustn’t she? And I wouldn’t do ybu the wrong to coming to live with you, as you suggested.* I’d have bought you more mignonette, but I had only a quarter. "If the rings bring enough cash I’ll probably Jump the next boat for Paris. Never been at home since I left the Quartier Latin. Good-by and good luck. Maria." Barbara read the note several times,. Then she put out the fire under the samovar and telephoned for a messenger. In the interval before his arrival she wrapped the samovar in strong brown paper.

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

wrote a note and slipped it under the string. When the messenger appeared she handed him the bulky package, “’rake this to Miss Daisy Olivera, 73 Morton St.,” she said. • • ILLER was just coming out of Miss Furnivall’a office when Barbara passed down the corridor next morning. “Miss Hawley!” he called. Barbara turhed. “Are you very busy today? Miss Furnivall hasn’t shown up yet and we're almost swamped. Could you run off some ‘Back Stage Brevities’ for her column before you start out to get that Tellegen interview?” Barbara walked toward him. “I’ll manage It somehow, Mr. Miller. Have you any Idea what's delaying Miss Furnivall?” “Not the slightest,” said ' Miller, removing his big cigar. "Deuced inconvenient time for her to play off on us, with the anniversary number going to press In two days. Her telephone doesn’t answer.” "She must be sick,” interposed Barbara. "She went home early yesterday.” “Oh, yes, I know she’d be here if possible. Betsy is the soul of reliability. Lord, I guess she has a right to be sick, after these twenty years of work. Betsy isn’t the sort who ought to be working for her living, anyway. She's not hard enough to hit back at the world when it tries to knock her down. She ought to be knitting beside some man’s fireside.” Barbara sniffed. "And working harder for room and board than she works for the salary you pay her. I don’t know that shs would be any better off, depending on some man. If a woman must be a purse slaVe to anybody, I thiak she’d better be a slave to an employer than to a husband. You can change an employer if he gets disagreeable." Miller laughed. "Calm down. Miss Hawley, calm down. Nobody is trying to urge you into matrimony. I was "Just speaking of Miss Furnivall.” Barbara laughed, too. “On that topic I suppose I'm not responsible. I’ve heard men pity unmarried women so often that I can hardly hold

my peace any longer. I’ll run over tio Miss Furnivall’s home this afternoon and see how she is." CQood idea,” said Miller. Just befdre noon the office boy entered Barbara’s room. ’'Queer-look-ing dame outside wants to see you. Miss Hawley. Says her name is Olive Oil or something like that.” Barbara smiled. V’Show her in.” The woman who entered a moment later was slim and graceful. Her skin was dark, and a rich color burned in her cheeks. She wore a coat of some strange, embroidered fabric in many colors. “I am Daisy Olivero.” she an-, nounced. "Since I couldn’t see you the other day, I’ve come to atone for it. I’ll giv9 you the interview now, if you like.” "Yes, indeed, though it will have to go in the next number now. It’s too late for the current number. But first tell mfe whether the samovar arrived safely. I’ve been anxious about it.” Miss Olivero smiled languidly. “Yes, it came. And I was glad to see. it. too. I rather thought my little pet was gone for keeps that time. Maria had a host of original little stunts like that. Bift this was the most serious she ever played on me.” "I didn’t understand that she had actually taken ft without telling you,” said Barbara. ”1 supposed she had explained about it and meant to take it back to you in a few days. But it seems she meant to pay for my rings with it.” Daisy Olivero laughed again, this time more heartily. "No. she didn’t take it for that purpose. Maria never thought that far ahead. She confiscated it one day after an argument we had on Schopenhauer. She maintained the most stupid obstinacy about him, and I was very angry and went away. When I came bock, the samovar was gone. I didn’t worry so very much, for I thought it would return one day, as soon as Maria got over her grouch. “But things got worse instead of better. We quarreled next day about Norman Bel-Gedd#s’ stags settings, and the day after that she said my welsh rarebit wasn’t fit to eat. Finally we had the grand blowup over who should take care of the

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FRECKLES AND BIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

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narcissus jar in the window. When the battle was at its height, Maria stood up with that Queen of Sheba air of hers and ail that blondlned hair on end. “You don’t know a real artist when you see her,” she said to me. ‘I will go.’ “I’ve never seen her since. That evening the samovar came back, with your note.” “I guess I'm lucky that she only took my mother’s diamonds, instead of coming to live with me,” answered Barbara. Miss Olivero lifted her eyebrows. “Lucky? You don’t know how lucky!” The talk moved to Miss Olivero’s stage career. She spoke of it with a depth of feeling.’ From time to time she rose and walked about the little room as she talked. “I’d like to play always in the Village,” she said, at last, turning to face Barbara. Her eyes burned. “That’s the only place that knows what 1 am trying to do, the only place that will hear what I am trying to say. It's*only in the Village that one finds freedom and beauty and the natural life. Down there, we know what living means. We’ve got rid of all the old outworn compulsion and stupid taboos that rule the rest of the world. It’s the best an artist can find, in this day and age. ‘‘But unluckily, in the Village, we’re all poor. And even I can't live on sincere appreciation of my art. I have to have bread and beans and lots of coffee to keep this poor machinery going. “That’s why I’m going up on Broadway if I get the chance, to make enoujh money to slap Broadway in tho face and go back and play for nothing in the Village the rest of my life. But you needn’t print that in your story.” Barbara gazed admiringly at the earnest face of the woman. "I wish I knew your Village. It's just a legend to me at present, Miss Olivero.” The actress lifted her eyes to Barbara’s. "Would you like to meet the real Village?” she said. "Come to my house tonight. There’s to be a little studio party, for a few, people who are doing things. Wear whatever you like. But most of my

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

JAN. 23, 1926

guests like tortport their best clothes when they have a purty. There’ll bo plenty of them in artists' smocks, however, if you choose to wear daytime clothes. It's just a hodgepodge. But it's good fun. There will be some music and much argument and some pre-war bottled cheer. If you have a soul-mate bring him along. We’ll feed him well and the women will let him alone We don't poach in the Village.” Barbara smiled. “I'll come, gladly. But I’ll have to come alone. There isn’t a mam I can ask in New York.” Miss Olivero was gathering up her purse and gloves. "Right o. Catch a taxi and come alone, about 9 o'clock.” She left the office and it seemed to Barbara as if a cloud had come when the bright coat left. At. 6 o’clock she left the Footlights plant and walked toward Fifth Ave. Miss Furniviall's apartment was in a building on West FiftyNinth, just off the avenue. There were no busses in sight on the avenue, so Barbara walked letsurely up the street, breathing the clear wintry air with pleasure. The apartment building in which Elizabeth Furnivall lived was shabby. It was situated, with characteristic New York incongruity, between two pompous stone houses with fretwork iron doors. On the steps one stood a large stiff-necked man. holding a leash to which wifiP attached a Pekingese dog not much larger than a rat. The man stared over Barbara’s head as she went by. When she entered the hallway of Miss Furnivall’s building, she was surprised at its appearance. Thick | dust la? on the stairs and the Odor of friend food hung about the cor-i ners. Barbara went up the stair* to the, third floor. A door immediately at| the head of the staircase bore Miss' FurnivaU’s number. She knocked lightly, and then more loudly. No one answered. She knocked again, but there was silence. Then she felt the knob. It turned unexpectedly, and she went in. Barbara fell back against the door as a rush of gas met her noetrils. (To Be Continued)