Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 230, Indianapolis, Marion County, 26 January 1926 — Page 10

PAGE 10

Dodger By VIRGINIA SWAIN

CHAPTER XXXIX B"1 ARBARA went to the door slowly. When she opened it, u—J Jerome was standing on the threshold, his arms full of bundles. Ha stepped backward when he saw Barbara and almost (dropped them. Before either of thenj could speak, Fancy came running out of the kitchen, drying her hands as she ran. “Come in, Jerry. You’re not seeing things. It’s really Barbara, and she’s going to stay to dinner.” She hurled herself at him and kissed him resoundingly. Jerome was the first to speak. “G*ad to see you. Baba. Where on earth did Fancy find you?” Barbara spoke naturally. “We found each other at a flower stand on the avenue. Fancy didn’t know I was in New York, she says.” "No, neither of us did. If we had, we’d have looked you up long ago, Barbara. Where are you living? You’re not married, are you?” He glanced at her left hand. Barbara shook her head. “I’m living in the Village among the freaks. But it’s lots of fun, if you pick your friends carefully.” Fancy came back, her arms full

Today 9 s Cross-Word Puzzle

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HORIZONTAL 1. Meals. 7. Revolved. 14. Printer’s measure. 15. A doubling of string'. }6. Dye base. 17. Male. 19. Gaiters. 21. Writing instrument 22. Unit. 23. To perform. 25. 3.1416. 26. Dye vessel. 27. Exclamation of surprise. 29. Car track. 81. Affirmative. 32. Preposition of place. 33. Constellation. 34. Jar. 35. To devour. 86. Unit of the alphabet. 3s. Almost, a donkey. 39. Peruses. 140. Pertaining to the cheek. 44. Eggs of fishes. 47. Brandy. 50. Age. 61. Back of the neck. 54. Lyric poem. 55. Father. 56. Cot. 57. To wither. 58. Second note in scale. 59. Quantity: 60. Like. 61. To damage. 62. Anger. 63. Label. 66. Approaches. 70. By. 71. Component 74. Bring legal proceedings. 76. Myself. k 77. Presented. 78. More abrupt. VERTICAL 1. State of taking away. 2. To issue. 3. Morindin dye. 4. Call for help at sea. 5. Peak. 6. Mineral spring. 7. Rogue. 8. Upon. 9. Point. 10. Beer. 11. Metal. 12. Half an era. 13. Stops. 18. Fishing bag. 20. Playing card. 24. Sesame (plant).

DR. W. B. CALDWELL AT THE AGE OF 83 To Dr. W. B. Caldwell of Monticello, UL, a practicing physician for 47 years, It seemed cruel that so many constipated infants and children had to be kept constantly “stirred up’’ and half sick by taking cathartic pills, tablets, salts, calomel and nasty oils. While he knew that constipation was the cause of nearly all children's little ills, he did not believe that a sickening “purge” or “physic” was necessary. In Dr. Caldwell’s Syrup Pepsin he discovered a laxative which helps to establish natural bowel “regularity, ” even if the child is chronically constipated. Dr. Caldwell’s Sytfup Pepsin, not- only causes a gentle,

of table linen. “Jerome, you set the table while Barbara comes out and talks tp me. I don’t like to ,be out there all alone.” Jerome took the cloth and napkins from her. Barbara matched him as he cleared the gate-leg table and began to lay the cloth. Suddenly he looked up and, caught Barbara smiling. "Pretty funny, I guess. You’d never have thought it of me, would you, Babs? But I’m a changed man. I make the beds and empty my own ash tray and lay the table and come home early. I’m as tame as any fireside kitten and Fancy rules me with a hand of iron.” Dinner lasted for two hours. Barbara watched Fancy as she brought in the courses. The girl still held her childish looks,, but with dignity and an assurance that were new. They sat over the coffee cups until the drive beyond the windows was quite dark, and lights on the Jersey shore were coming out f in little clusters against the hills. Baabara glanced around the room with its soft lights And its (comfortable chairs, and then at the pretty girl standing by the window.

25. Tiny green vegetables. 27. Region. 28. Firm. 30. Sixth note in scple. 31. To long for. 33. Devoured. 37. Gait. 41. Acidity of the stomach. 42. Fissure containing metal. 43. Years of life. 44. Refunded. 45. Native metals. 46. Rhythm. 48. Puzzle. 49. One who provides food. 51. Point of compass. 52. Intention. 53. Growing things. 59. Portion of the mouth. 63. Two fives. 64. Eucharist vessel. 65. To secure. 67. Half a horse. 68. Old wagon track. 69. To observe. 72. To behold. 73. Point of compass. 75. Point of compass. Answer to Saturday’s Crossword Puzzle: DlfelWll iqiololffllPiEißii ToldTs 0V E ftp PET j L TREE SET H 1 S R I MfeEjE l e neVad es|ra &jL AMP vXTOE£IASE£ Al*e al£ oa; isffisp MA*ORAI£DOPE£?JL US|g;tf Eff PSttjOOtt slißi.!i£>.S JL£TU Alga RAT E S U nT|O N&O MAIRARE£LEANIO£ NAlkilESlf xi£ All tmtEIAITtEM p lo In] altield SUGAR SACK HATS LONDON—Aj large consignment of ordinary • sugar sacks has been brought by a famous dressmaking house here for the purpose of making ha.ts. Sackcloth on the head, if not ashes, is the mode of the moment.

Mother! It’s Cruel to “Physic” Your Chad

easy bowel movement, but, best of all, it never gripes, sickens or upsets the most delicate system. Besides, It is absolutely harmless, and so pleasant that even a cross, feverish, bilious, sick child gladly takes it. Buy a large 60-cent bottle at any store that sells medicine and just see for yourself. Dr. Caldwell’s SYRUP PEPSIN

BARBARA, LONELY IN NEW YORK, SUDDENLY RETURNS TANARUS) TO INDIANAPOLIS

Jerome began to talk of people and events in Indianapolis. Barbara responded eagerly. She had had no direct news from home in many months, except the scanty items that crept into McDermott’s sh<sft, business-like letters. “Do you ever see Bob?” he asked, after a whila. “He’s on some paper here, you know.” Barbara looked at the tablecloth. “I have seen him once or twice. But we're both pretty busy. And he’s engaged, you know.” Jerome looked surprised. “Not old Bob Jeffries? He used to be the world champion love dodger. Or, rather, he used to vie with me for the honor.” “You all tumble,” said Barbara, almost impatiently. “I’ve not been able to count on one of you.” “But see how happy we are, Bahs! Why dodge happiness?” Fancy spoke earnestly. "Ev’fen Jerome and I are getting along beautifully, concontrary to everybpdy's expectations. We fooled ’em all.” ' It was the first reference to the elopement. Jerome moved uneasily and changed the subject. The talk veered back to Indianapolis folk. Barbara asked many questions. At last she said, almost too casually, “What ever became of the young architect that was mixed up with the Vale Acres scandal?” “Oh, you mean Reynolds?” Jerome replied. “Why, he started out in business for himself,. Said he’d clear his name if it took the rest of his life to do It. I haven’t heard how he came out. Probably made a flop. You can’t live down a thing like that. Makes no difference that the court did acquit him. The world in genera], in Its amiable way, will go on casting the suspicious eye at him. There’s something In human nature that makes it eager to believe the worst In all cases. Darn tough on an inocent party.” Barbara could not trust herself to speak for a moment. She looked at her watch. “It’s nearly 11. I must be going. It’s a long trip down to Bohemia. I’ll run out and catch a cab on the drive.” “I’ll get one for you,” said Jerome, going to the. door. When Barbara came out with her

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By Martin

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

wraps on, he was waiting to take her to the taxi. "Please come again soon. Babs,” cried Fancy, hanging on Barbara’s arm. "It’s been such fun having you.” Barbara looked around the homelike room. “I’ll come when I can,” she said, but her voice did not carry conviction. The doorman signaled the approach of Barbara’s cab. “Good by,” cried Jerome, as she climbed in. “Conte again and often." “Good by,” she answered. “I will.” But as her eyes lifted to the lighted windows of Fancy’s home, they were filled with tears. Barbara leaned forward and spoke to the driver. “Go t r[Y as far as Grant's tomb, and then turn back down the drive. I want the air." He wheeled tlje car around swiftly and ,they sped up the drive. Barbara leaned back and closed her eyes. The windows of the taxi were open an'd the night air swept over her face. She did not open her eyes until they were turning back at Grant’s tomb. They drove more slowly on the way back, because of the traffic. Barbara watched the Jersey shore and strained her eyes for a gleam from the river. But it was too fax below to be visible. The car was just below 110th St., when Barbara called to the driver to stop. She opened the door and got out. “I shan’t need you any more," she said to the driver, as she pulled out her billfold. Barbara made her way to a path in the parkway. It wound slowly downward to the first stone w*all. The last slope was lost In dark ness. Barbara leaned against the wall, staring downward. Not s glimmer of the water* could be seen, but faintly now and then there came a soft splashing. On the opposite shore, the lights ’were thickly clustered. Barbara’s eyes were fastened upon them. Between them and the shore on which she stood, hung an abyss ot quickness. Barbara left the wall and found another path that led down the side of the hill. This brought her through black clumps of shrubbery to a

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

lower wall. She took up her stand here, with fihr body resting against it, her eyes still searching for the black water that lay beneath. It was near, invisible, terrifying. ** * / i’TTIN the drive above there was f)| the whirr of motor cars. But the terraced bank was still. The lights on the opposite shore of the invisible river winked incessantly. Barbara leaned far over the wall, her eyos searching for the black water. For a few feet a path leading still farther down the hill was visible. A pebble started from somewhere and hurtled down the sleep descent. Barbara began to shiver violently. A cold gust scuttled up the bank from* the water and caught her full in the face. She turned sharply and ran up the path toward the drive. When she reached the level of the street a bus was approaching. She ran to the corner and hailed it. - Climbing to the top she found a seat on the side away from the river and sank into it, huddling close to the railing. The bus made its way down the curving of road, past endless ranks of apartment buildings and venerable stone manors with glass doors like huge Icicles. The glitted of the shop windows on Fifth Ave. was too harsh. Barbara bent her head. The bus lumbered on, block after block, with long waits at the comers. When she lifted her eyes again they were at Forty-Fourth St. waiting for a stream of taxicabs to pass. Glancing to the left, Barbara saw the goal of the taxis—the Grand Central S atlon, with its swarms of vehicles and hurrying pedestrians. She ran down the steps of the bus just as It started and had to wait until It reached the next stopping point. There she caught a cab and gave her village address. When she burst into the little apartment It was quite dark and cold. There had been no fires built that day. She rushed into her bedroom and began to pack a atravellng bag. throwing articles into it witu reckless speed. The car was still waiting when she emerged from the building. The driver took her bags and closed the

door after her. They were off again, dodging traffic and speeding between stops. Barbara ran into the waiting room of the Grand Central Station, and found a ticket window. “Give me a ticket to Indianapolis on the first train.” She threw down a bill. The ticket seller glanced at the clock. “Gosh, lady," he said, "if you run, you can make the Star Express. It’ll put out in three minutes." Barbara's progress through the station left a wake of staring metropolitans. The cry of "All aboard!” was ringing as she reached a Pullman car. A porter grasped her hand and pulled her up the platform of the car just as it began to move. The Pullman conductor found a berth for her. “You're lucky, miss.” he said. “Tnfc was a late concellation.” Until nearly dawn, Barbara lay, propped up with pillows, her face against the window pane, while lighted stations and dark vHfages flew past, and the black skyline shifted against the pale gray sky. When she rose the next morning, she found that her berth was the last one to be made up. Every one else had breakfasted long ago. EWO hours from Indianapolis a man came through „ the train calling Indianapolis Telegraph and Tribune. Last edition. Barbara reached for her purse and stopped him. The Telegraphs were on top of the pile of papers that he carried. She almost snatched a paper from him. The headlines, the very ink and paper were -familiar. She began to read eagerly skipping nothing. Over the hospital column and the Chamber of Commerce notes she smiled almost wistfully. She turned to the lovelorn column and glanced at the signatures of the letters. Winnifred wgs still advising young girls to be chary of kisses and wivesy to be tolerant of. their mothers-in-law. Barbara might have written the copy herself. She read the real estate section thoroughly, but there were no familiar names in it.

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

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She crushed thq paper under her arm and tnade ready to leave. As the train pulled into Indianapolis slowly, she stood in the aisle near the end of the car, studiously keeping her eyes on the green plush seat beside her. Her hand clutched at the left side of the seat as the train lurched to a stop. On the platform there were many people, In groups talking, or running for the train she had just left. A woman came hurrying out of the station and, catching sight of Barbara, stopped a moment to nod to her as she passed. ' It was the travelers’ aid secretary who had nodded good-by on the night that she set out for New York. Barbara looked about desperately. Bub there was not another face that she knew. She turned around, to find her hags standing by themselves on the platform. A man approached her from the row of waiting taxicabs. "Taxi, miss?” She nodded. “The Cla/pool is very good, miss.” She smiled. “Yes, I know. I have been here before. As they went through the business district, Barbara scanned the faces of the people on the sidewalks. Here and there she caught a glimpse of someone whose name she should have recalled. But the memory escaped, retreated. She entered the hotel lobby expectantly. Her old Telegraph beat had included a dally call at -its desk for news of arrivals. But the face of the man behind the desk was new to her. . She followed an Indifferent bellboy to the room, and In a sudden burst of anger at his manner, dis misstd him without a tip. She sat on the edge of the bed for a time, looking at the bare walls, In their conventioift.l -buff and white paint. Then she went to the window and looked out. Indianapolis seemed very small and still —almost a city of the dead. The noises from the street floated up. thln and far away, like a treble played without a bass. After Broadway, the lights were sparse and dim. Barbara left the window. In haste to be out of the empty room, she washed htr face and brushed her

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

JAN. 26, 1926

hair. She went down to the case with a look of determined cheerfulness on her face. But the food was tasteless and she away, and sat a long time at the table, with only a cup of Mack coffee before her. The other dlnerswere all transient guests at the hotel, whose faces she never had seen before. She went out Into the lobby and found an armchair behind a pillar. Here at least there were people moving about and there were no buff and white painted walls. It was after midnight when Barbara rose from the chair and took the elevator for the fifth floor. • * * She was startled by the ringing of the telephone next morning. "A gentleman waiting in the lobby to see you, Miss Hawley," Eaid the operator. Barbara dressed with trembling haste, scarcely stopping to glance 111 the mirror. But a glimpse of her white face as she passed the dresser brought her back to open the rouge jar. She stood leaning against the dresser for a moment, clasping her hands tightly to stop their shaking. At last she was ready. As she was about to leave the room, (he telephone rang again. "He says he’ll meet you on the mezzanine in twenty minutes, ma’am." Barbara went back and sat down on the tumbled bed. At the end of the twenty minutes she left the room and rang for the elevator. It did not appear at. once and she looked around for a staircase. It was four flights down, but Barbara started down the steps at a run. On the last flight she stopped for breath, brushed a hand over her hair and powdered her nose. Then she walked sedately down the remaining steps and arrived upon the mezzanine. She looked about her. There was nobody in sight. The balcony was dark with nooks and alcoves and groups of palms. Barbara walked forward slowly. Someone rose from a divan in a corner and came toward her. (To Be Continued)