Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 41, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 June 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

Irm o l?yo Business Hisses By BEATRICE BURTON Author of “Gloria, The Flapper Wife”

fp .„ names ln this story are purely fictitious and are not to be taken as rerin *’ to any particular person, place or firm.

To^2? SI ? E am3 ™RY F S MIDDLEtem Jit* two pretty sisters, the daughtliem ~ a , w| dowea mother. Both of Cotdpan? rk for the Dexter Automobile MI keep the files under caeeri MACFARLANE. And she's ent° SAM JESSUP, who is eeereji fj a vJU. tbe president of the company. m ,lr'ni iY TESTER, a married man of m 6 a €&- M :l-rt, T ßose i s stenographer to JOHN fleeni • Ils - the Sales manager. She 1 ln ,OTe with him. although the f>"|Mfe ™,;? “ v.- ca JJ 8e of her love for Manner* •Mary Rose refuses a repeated offer of marriage from TOM FITZROY, a young She discovers that Flossie is flfrrymg on a more or less harmless nirtation with Hilary Dexter, and that ne has given her a sapphire ring. Mary Rose returns it to him and forbids Flossie to go out with him and Flossie tnrea,teens to leave home. day when the two girls go on a Picnic with Sam and Tom. Flossie goes swimming and almost drowns. Sam saves her, and Dr. Tom takes care of her when bronchitis develops afterward, pwy day during her Illness flowers J™ 18 for her—from Mr. Dexter of MIDDLETON, knowing nothing of the Dexter affair, thinks that Tom has transferred his affections to Flossie and 18 life 8 Ben der of them. . Then Mary Rose learns that Flossie has the sapphire ring once more and alsp another ring—a little diamond one. which she does not wear. She spends most of her time these days trying to Vamp Tom, who is so much m love with Mary Rose that he doesn't even see any other girls One Sunday afternoon he drives Mary Rose out in the country to see a little house that he wants to buy for her to live in. as his wife. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XII Upstairs at the back of the house was a long room that faced the west. It was papered in a Kate Greenaway pattern that showed little boys, and girls in old-fashioned clothes rolling their hoops along tiowery paths. And on the floor In one corner lay a child’s forgotten toy—a white woolly lamb with a bell and a little ribbon around its neck. “Whoever lived here last must have used this room for the children’s nursery,” Tom said, his eyes on the toy. “Dearest —” He came and stood be3ide Mary Rose, his face close to hers not touching her, but very close. He laid his hands on her shoulders and she could feel that they trembled a little. His face flushed with the somber wave of longing that passed over It. Mary Rose looked away from him at the line of green hills in the hazy sunny distance. She* knew that he was thinking Sow wonderful life ln that little house cnfiild be for a man and a woman whci loved each other —and for the little children they would have. For when a mar. truly cares for a woman, that is how he thinks of only as his sweetheart and his comrade, but as the mother of his children, too. And Mary Rose knew it—as every girl knows it. She shook her head helplessly. She drew herself very gently out of the ring that Tom’s arms made around her and went down the stairs of the little house and out into the sunshine. She waited there for him, looking up at the house. W r ith its sun-soaked red roof, its white walls and green shutters, it would make a wonderful background for happiness. But was it background that made people happy? No, indeed, thought Mary Rose, not any more than beautiful scenery makes a good play. And she knew that all the handcarved furniture and silk lampshades and solid silver in the world couldn’t make her happy, living in that house with Tom Fitzroy. “But I could keep house in a garret with John Manners and be happy as a Princess,” she said to herself, as Tom followed her moodily out to his car that stood under a misty willow tree. As she climbed into the car, she turned and looked up at him, her eyes big and shining with unshed tears. “Tom,” she said to him, “if I could Just make myself do It, I’d marry you tomorrow. You’re so good and so fine, but —somehow, I can’t.” He gave a short, grim laugh, as he got into the car and started it. “Yeah, I’m getting tired of lying down like a doormat and letting you kick me around,” he said gruffly. “I’ll never ask you to marry me again. But one of these days I’ll just serve notice on you that your wedding day’s arrived. And we’ll dash off for a marriage license — see?” "Cave man!” she jeered, laughing a little. “All right, I’ll show you,” he answered. “You watch me!”

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He wouldn't get out of hio car, a few minutes later, when they drove up before the Middleton house. “No-thanks, I won't stay for supper,” he refused her Invitation to come ln. “Vou’ve spoiled my appetite for today. Good-by—” She watched the black car with its windshield and dustshields shining in the slanting rays of the sunset, as he drove away. Five minutes afterward, as she struggled with a can of peaches In the kitchen, he appeared suddenly at the screen door. “Weil, here I am. Ask me to stay to supper, again, will you?” he asked, opening the door and coming in. “Here—l’ll open that can for you—l guess I’m just plain foolifeh about you, Mary Rose. The worse you treat me, the better I like you, and the more I stick around. I hate myself for it, 'too, believe me!” She brought the cold roast of beef from the icebox and began to slice it. But he took the knife from her and set to work, carving it with the air of a headwaiter. “I just want to show you what a handy man I’d be around the house,” he said, grinning at her. “You want to think twice before you turn me down!’’ She shook her head slowly. “Let’s not be sentimental any more today,” she pleaded. “You 'carry the meat in, and put it on the table, will you? And Flossie’s in there, helping Sam set the table. She says she has a headache. Thinks it’s from striking her head on a stone or root or something last week when she took her famous dive. So if you have any sugar pills out ln your car, you’d better give her a couple.” He disappeared into the dining room and a second later Sam Jessup put his head around the edge of the open door. ”Y~ou alone?” he asked ln a stage whisper. “Yes. Mother’s gone to Aunt Henny’s to borrow some cream.” Mary Rose answered. “What’s on your so-called mind, Sammy?” Sam’s round cheerful face grew serious. “I/just wish you’d go in there,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the dining room, “and see what she has on her finger!” Whenever Sam said “she” ln that husky tone he meant "Flossie.” Mary Rose poured the canned peaches into a glass bowl and carried them Into the dining room. “Tom’s gone out to his car to get me some aspirin for my headache.” Flossie said to her, without looking up from the howl of roses —Hiliary Dexter’s roses—that she was arranging in the middle of the supper table. On the third finger of her left hand sparkled the sapphire ring that he had given her! “Did you see it? "Where do you suppose she got it?” Sam asked when Mary Rose went back into the kitchen, closing the door behind her. And while she racked her brains for an answer, he went on: “A couple of weeks ago I gave her an engagement ring—not much of a diamond, I’ll admit. But the best T could afford. Better than I flould afford, to tell the castiron truth. And do you suppose she wears it? She does not!” Mary Rose peeled tomatoes :’or salad, In sympathetic silence. “I wouldn’t mind that so much,” Sam added, miserably. “But when I see her with this blue stone on her engagement Anger, it makes me pretty darn sore, let me state in passing! And she won’t even tell me where she got it! She just laughs when I ask her.” That night, when the two girls were undressing for bed, Mary Rose spoke to Flossie about Sam’s diamond. \ “ "Why don’t you wear It, dear?” she asked, as she began to lay out the clean clothes that both of them were going to wear the next day. "I think it hurts Sam’s feelings to think that you’re ashamed of it. And it seems to me that when a man gives you a ring, the least you can do is to wear it.” Flossie, sitting on the edge of her bed as she combed her hair, giggled. "Well, then, what are you kicking about? I am wearing this one that Mr. Dexter gave me!” she said impudently, stretching out her left hand so that Mary Rose could see , the sapphire gleaming pn it. “Don’t scold me. I only put it on tonight to get Sam’s goat,” she went on “And believe me it did!” Then her expression changed like lightning. Anger swept over it, leaving her bright-eyed and pinkcheeked. “I don’t want to wear Sam’s ring!” she said with one of her rare bursts of frankness. No matter what she said at other times you could depend upon her telling the truth, when she was angry. ‘And I won’t wear it!” she added, taking off her slippers and kicking them violently into the clothes closet. “I hate it! It’s a dingy little thing! And it looks just what it is—cheap! cheap! cheap! And anyway, I wouldn’t wear it if it was as big as an egg! An engagement ring is just like a ‘sold’ sign on the front of a house. Nobody notices [an engaged girl—all the fellows

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OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

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know there’s no use wasting their time on her!’’ She stood there, pouting like a spoiled child, and not looking at Mary Rose as she talked, but watching herself in the mirror of the old dresser. “Why should I be engaged to Shm, anyway?,’’ she asked. “Here I am, Just throwing myself away on a man who makes fifteen dollars a week more than I do! Now, why should I tie myself up to him? I ask you!" “Because you love him, perhaps,” suggested Mary Rose, as she mani-

THE INDIANAPOLIS TRIES

cured her nails. There was a shade of sarcasm in her low voice. “Oh, blah! You’re always talking about love, every time you open your mouth these days!” Flossie answered. “I supposed it’s because you’re so soft about John Manners, but I get sick listening to you! There’s plenty of other things In the world besides love, Mary/ Rose Middleton! And they’re a lot more important, too!” “What, for Instance?” "Clothes, for instancf! And a good time, once in a while!" Flossie cried. Tears of self-pity sprang to her eyes. fit seem3 to me I’ve never had any run—and nothing to look forward to but settling down somewhere with Sam Jessup, to scrub and clean and cook for hinu and bring up a tribe of children! I could be happy with any man if I had enough money!” “You ought to be ashamed to say a thing like that,' Flossie,” Mary Rose exclaimed, genuinely shocked. “But If that’g the way you feel, you’d better tell Sam so, and give him back his ring—and while you’re about, you’d better give Mr. Dexter his, too! You talk about being ashamed to wear Sam’s ring, but I'd be ashamed to wear that one if I were you!” Under the sting of her words, Flossie flushed, and after a moment she drew Dexter’s ring from her finger. "Well, give me time. Purity!” she said. "I’m not going to keep It, but I just wish you knew what a time I have, trying to keep him at arm s length! You know what a time f have with the men, MaryRose! Why, evexxVhat simp

S.ILESMAN SAM—By SWAN

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—Bv MARTIN

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

bookkeeper we had down at the office tried to make love to me! I don’t know why it is, but most every man I meet seems to lose his mind over me, sooner or later ” “Your fatal beauty,” observed Mary Rose. “I feel sorry for you, I do.” But Flossie wasn’t listening. She had turned on the lights at the sides of the mirror, and was leaning close to It, lost In admiration of her own loveliness. She smiled at herself with her blue eyes, as she picked up a lipstick and reddened the upturned bow of her mouth, and moistened her eyebrows with the stopper of her perfume bottle. She drew & long fluttering breath. "I am pretty!” she said as simply as a child repeating its lesson. ~That was Sunday night, and on Monday morning Flossie went back to work. At 4 o’clock. Miss MacFarlane came downstairs and stood before Mary Rose’s desk. She had on her rusty old black hat, and ner eyes were red-rimmed from crying. In her arms she carried a stack of books and papers. Mary Rose looked up at her In surprise “What’s wrong? Where are you going?” she asked. Miss MacFarlane gulped. "I’m leaving,” she said, for good. “I won’t stay in a place where faithfulness and hard work don’t count for any more than they do here!” She wiped her eyes. “Flossie was j&aq three houza this poem, and

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When she came back, I went to Mr. Dexter and told him I didn’t want her to work for me any more, and "And what, Miss MacFarlane?” Mary Rose’s voice was full of pity. She knew how much her Job with the Dexter company meant to the thin, shabby, middle-aged woman who stood there, with tears running down her sallow cheeks. "And he told me I’d been here so long that I thought I could run the whole works!" Miss MacFarlane finished In a burst of sobs. "So I’m going, but I Just want you to know I don’t hold anything against you! It’s Flossie— ” , When she had gone, Mary Rose got up from her desk, and ran upstairs to the filing department. Flosie sat there alone, at the long table, staring.lnto space. She turned her pretty head as her sister came up to her. "What does this mean?" Mary Rose asked. "Miss. MacFarlane leaving like this? Flossie shrugged her little shoulders. "It means I’m head of this department now, If that’s what you’re driving at!” she said. "That old catamoran thought she was going to get me fired, but she lost her own Job Instead... .And Mr. Dexter Just told me I could have It!” (To be continued) Which view of life Is right, Mary’s or Flossie's? See tomorrow’s installmmL *

©UR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

DR. W. B. CALDWELL AT THE AGE OP BS

To Dr. W. B. Caldwell, of Montlcello, 111., a practicing physician for 47 years. It seemed cruel that so many constipated men, women, children. and particularly old folks, had to be kept constantly “stirred up" and half slcjt by taking cathartic pills, tablets, salts, calomel and nasty oils. / While he knew that constipation was the cause of nearly all headaches. biliousness. Indigestion and stomach misery, 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 natu rainbow el “regularity” even for those chronically constipated. Dr. Caldwell’s Byrup Pepsin .not only causes a gentle, easy bowel

IB* A YYA-YTAJ&jLN JW H*tE* JBfJX WIW,

JUNE 29, 1926

Constipation! How to Keep Bowels Regular

mo\*ement but. best of all. It never gripes, sickens, or upsets the system. Besides, It is absolutely harmless. and so pleasant that even a crass, feverish, bilious, sick ohtld gladly takes It. Buy a large 60-cent bottle at any store that sells medicine and Just ae* for yourself. Or. CaldwelTs SYRUP PEPSIH