Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 277, Indianapolis, Marion County, 22 March 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

SANDY

I WHAT HAS HArPEXFT) IN THE STORY SO FAR I Sandy McNeil. in love with life. tnar- | ries " Ben Murillo, a rich Italian, to ' please her impoverished family. Tyranny by Murillo and frequent quarrels follow. A son dies at birth. Bob McNeil, her uncle, aids in plans for Sandy and her mother to take a trip to Honolulu. There she meets Ramon Worth, who saves her life in the surf. On the same steamer home he declares his love. Murillo declares he will never release her. Judith Moore, a cousin, tells Sandy love is everything. Murillo overtakes her as she goes for a tryst with Ramon. Follows a clash over her promise to her sick mother to rive up plans for divorce. She appeals to Bob for aid in a divorce action, and he tells her , she has no grounds. Sandy determines to make her own living. When she learns Murillo will not be in town over the weekend. she plans to give a party for her old friends. tit) ON WITH THE STORY FROM HERE CHAPTER L. There were ten girls In the living rooms of Murillo’s home. They appeared to be standing on tiptoe with excitement. They talked with a quick brightness, glancing about; ' taking in the furniture with photographic detail. They were subconsciously aware of Sandy’s tightened nerves and her fierce smoldering defiance. They were remembering those canceled invitations. “Larky,” thought one. “How dicT she manage it? Is he around? Upstairs, perhaps?” And homely little Ella Rivers: “Wonder why she can’t beat his time? Gosh, I’d like to see the man who could tell me where to head in! Why doesn’t she stop show him a thing or two. I would, you bet!” * * * Alice came in with a tray. Glasses tinkled. “Gee, a cocktail!” thought Edna Stacy. “Well, he can’t be so bad if he blows the little girls to a snifter!” Edna’s own young husband mixed a goodly drink when the crowd came to their house. He helped Edna set the table, brought home a huge cake and cheerfully took himself off to a poker game, tickled that “the kid” was having a good time, too, and clever enough to amuse herself. They weren’t rich, but young and hafipy companions. “Looks like a good one,” she said aloud. “And plenteous.” “I’ll say it’s good,” said Alice, who glibly imitated each new slang phrase as it appeared. “Ever try it? Cream and honey and bourbon? Had it over at Marne’s night before last.” “How's Maine? And hovV was the MAN? DM you fall for him, Alice? Has he called yet?” Alice's married friends —and she had hosts of them—were always inviting her to dinner, the occasion usually being to introduce a man— THE MAN who was to capitulate to Alice’s charms. These fellows were usually about 45, getting bald, dumpy and egotistic, as is the of “good catches” who have passed their first youth. They were supposed to be seeking a “good, sensible girt who would make them a fine home.” What they wanted was a fresh, sprightly flapper whose impudent tricks would return to them the illusions of boyhood; make them feel irresistible, exuberant, young. They didn't take Alice* seriously. * * * And Alice, who had the romantic dreams of a girl just 18, her vision of love still associated with a bonny sailor lad, six feet of handsomeness and laughter, turned sour with scorn I at these sorry looking, pompous candidates for her virgin affections. “Not my style.” she now answered tartly, and wishing to give the impression of many lurid yesterdays. “I drink to the men who have passed.” “Drink it slowly! They’ve gone for good. But is there any more where this came from? Some ctller your husband has, Mac” “Yes, and some key,” Sapdy sipped musingly. “You can thank Angus for thin. Alice lifted it, unbetold, from the old boy’s medicine, chest.” She flushed, thinking: “I’m glad I said that! I’m finished with pretense! I won’t bluff any more. Why should I try to make any one think I’m happy? I’m loved? Why should I defend Ben Murillo? I’ll give him a run for his money now!” But she went into the kitchen, her nerves taut. She stirred- the creamed chicken, pinched the rolls to see if they were ho£. “Everything ready, Ida? We’re sitting down.” “Then you go in, dearie, and don’t worry. You might have a party like this every week. Keep you from be ! ng lonesome. ’Tain’t good for you to sit hammering at that typewriter so much. Look —’’ Ida opened the refrigerator, brought out a bottle. Sandy read the label—creme de cocoa. “Where did you get this, Ida?”

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by ELENORE MEHERIN, Author of “CHICKIE”

“I got it.” , > “You didn’t open the cellar? Surely you didn’t —” Ida smiled. “It won’t be missed. I went down for the wine last night. This was mixed with some empty bottles on the floor. I took it.” She shook her head emphatically. “You’ve a right to it! As much right as he has. And there won’t be a trace of smoke or anything when he gets back Monday morning. You enjoy yourself for once!” Did he say he would be there till Monday, Ida?” “If any one phoned he told mo to say that.” * * * Sandy put the bottle slowly in the chest, a queer feeling that she was “yellow” made her a little sick. “Why do I care when he comes?” she asked herself. “What more can he do to me? The sooner this ends, the better! him end it!” And she flad a picture of herself coldly defying Murillo, laughing at him, drinking his vines, squandering his money, running up the bills, carrying on reckless flirtations, making life so hot for him he would gladly free her. “I should have done it long ago!” She went to the table, began to talk vividly, a steely glitter in her mind. “Just think of it,” Edna Stacy was saying, referring to a birthday party her little cousin, Henrietta Chapman, had attended, “she went out cold. And the kid’s not 10. They were all plotted. And they're all infants." They calmly drove tip to Mamma Chapman’s and deposited her daughter on the davenport in the living room. They thought it was real kind in them to land her there and were highly indignant because her mother got excited. What did she mean holding them there for a le<j ture! They said —now this is the | truth, they said: ‘Excuse us! Johnny expects us at his house for hot dogs.’ It was 2:30 a. m. tfien. , “Well—ten years from now when my youngster is 12 he’ll be carrying a hip flask and demanding a closed in petting car!" “You’re hopeful! At the present rate, your kid will be married and | begetting problems of his own at the ) age of 12.” “What I’d like to know,” said i Alice, her eyes glinting; “how do they get' away with it?” | May Arliss rested her blonde, bnyI ish head on her clasped hands: “Do | you mean by that, Alice, how do | they get/ away with the booze and j keep their morals? Simple. They I don’t. They get away with both. ! For speedy travelers carry no bagI gage, mental or moral.” • * • Alice drew a ,ot, labored breath, j She felt sharp as a blade because lof her excitement. She imagined herself a tremendous personality bold, scarlet, one whose passionmade Sarah Bernhardt seem an icicle. All Alice lacked was the courage ijf her lerrific ardors. She talked like a libertine and lived like a nun. She now sniffed: “All I can ray is that I wag born too soon about fifteen years too soon. I’d like to be 17 in this day and age!" Sandy laughed: "Fifteen years | ago girls ‘lost’ their virtue. Today, ; by the same procedure, they merely ‘discover’ their souls!” She thought l l.urningly: What would they say if I were to tell them I live what they talk? That a man—a charming fellow. comes once every week to visit me—that I drive about the hills at midnight—that I think of throwing everything to the winds She clinched the table, hearing the phone ring. Ida beckoned. “Someone for you.” she whispered. Sandy cupped her hands about the mouthpiece, shaking when she heard Ramon's voice. “You said you Couldn’t make it. Why did you phone?” “No one there? Aren't you having your party? Come out afterwards—just for a breath—half an hour.” “Never phone again.” “Will you come.” “It will he to late.' ‘I don't care. Just for a moment. I’ll wait.” She opened the door, taking a whiff of the clean, cold air. The room was filled with smoke—blue wiht It. * * * As she returned to the dining room Ida brought in a silver tray. On this were the cordial glasses filled with the dark syrup, a little twirl of whipped cream topping them. “Ye gods, doing it up brown!” said

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Edna, “Oh, a present from Ben,” said Handy, boldy. "But he doesn’t know it!’ “Then drink to the absent one, since we wouldn't be drinking if he were the present one!” “Can we come next week again, Mac, oie dear? You’re back in your old stride!” "Every Saturday—that’s my lord and master’s night out.” Sandy leaned over, lit a cigaret from the tip of May’s. “How joyous this is,” she thought, her hands shaking. She saw May's eyes widen —saw her blow the smoke free —heard her say: “Well —hello there!” And she knew without glancing upward. Coming in like that — without a sound —like a thief. She moved over—beckoned gaily: “Come in, Benny. Meet the little girls. Don’t be bashful. Here’s room.' She thought like a flashing pang: “God —what now!” (To Be Continued.) CLOSE PLANT FOR RADIO Out in Ingomar, Mont., the citizens close down the local power plant when they agree on a good radio program. They agree that it is better to be without the power than to have the plant interfere with radio reception, according to a letter received at station WHT, Chicago.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

KILLS WOMAN AIDING FAMILY Probation Officer Shot by Father of Nine. By Uriitrd I'rcm II AM MON. Ind., March 22.—The entire Calumet district today gave chase to Lester Fintkin, 52, alleged slayer of Mrs. Lucille Myers, 45, county probation officer. Fintkin is said to have shot Mrs. Myers in the presence of his eight small children, to whom the woman was bringing relief. The man’s wife is in a local hospital with a new-born baby, and it is said that Fintkin, unemployed, is slightly demented. Fintkin is said to have become angered when he found Mrs. Myers questioning his children in their home, and to have shot her without a word. CANARIES ON PROGRAM Many letters were received at station WJZ, New York .commenting on how nice the canaries sang over the radio. However, station officials knew that they never- put on a canary program. Investigation showed that the canaries were heard by remote control from the lobby of a hotel in which one of the WJZ orchestras plays.

SALESMAN $AM —By SWAN

BOOTS AND HER BEDDIES—Bv MARTIN

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

JUDGES’ RITES ARE HELD UP Widow of Lee Kirkpatrick in Florida. By l uitril /’res* KOKOMO, Ind., March 22. —Funeral arrangements for Lex Kirkpatrick, 72, veteran Howard County attorney, who died Sunday, were being held up today pending arrival of the widow from Florida. Kirkpatrick, formerly vice president of the American Bar Association and former president of the Indiana Bar Association, died at an Indianapolis hospital. Kirkpatrick was born in Rush County and later moved to Howard County, whei;e, although a Democrat. he overcame normal Republican majorities to be twice elected judge of the Howard Circuit Court. WANTS BACKER NEW YORK —Major Wilfred T. Blake, British air pilot and explorer, has arrived here seeking backing for an expedition to explore the tombs in the Libyan desert. Major Blake discovered the ruins of the temple of Jupiter Ammon at Slwa, during the war. He now expects to return for further exploration. He will approach the Metropolitan Museum and the University of Pennsylvania.

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OFFER AIDS IN RESTORING SHIP ‘Old Iron Sides’ Fitted With New Masts. Hu Timm Special BOSTON. Mass., March 22. According to Rear Admiral Philip An-1 drews, C. S. N„ commandant of the ] First Naval District and chairman of ' the national committee of the "Save Old Ironsides Fund,” the offer to re-. mast the frigate Constitution, made ! by the West Coast Lumbermen’s As- j soeiation and accepted by the Secre- j tary of the Navy, is one of several contributions in kind \ihich is hastening the day when the “Save Old Ironsides Fund” will be complete and work will start on restoring this famous old ship. ( Navy officials say the contribution of these masts is equivalent to a donation of $20,000 in money. Many things go into the building of an old-time sailing ship, such as spars, booms, sails, rigging, copper bolts, hemp, furniture, iron, bunting, live oak and cedar for her "iron” sides. Producers and manufacturers have an opportunity to participate In the restoration of “Old Ironsides." What goes into this final restoration will be only J.he very best that can be obtained.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

WATSON MOVE BIG QUESTION Workers Wonder Whether to Hasten His Return. Whether to maintain a passive attitude in the face of assaults from Claris Adams, Republican aspirant for the long term ser.ntorship nomination or to hasten the return of Senator James E. Watson from Washington for the primary campaign Is a question Watson workers arc puzzling over. To send for Watson, they believe, might cast the aroma of fearfulness, MOTHER—TAKE NO CHANCES ON CROUP Never put a croupy child to he.! without having FOLEY'S HONEY AND TAR right handy. It checks the sudden and terrifying onset of croup, relieves the strangling, choking condition, eases difficult breathing and allows peaceful sleep. A friend writes: “I havo long used FOLEY’S HONEY AND TAR for croup. First, I gave it to all my children, now to my grandchildren, with the same good results.” Reliable also for bronchial and “flu” coughs, tickling throat and troublesome night coughs.—Advertisement.

MARCH 22,1 ( J20

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