Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 109, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 August 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

® w° business Hisses By BEATRICE BURTON Author of “Gloria, The Flapper Wife’"

The names In this story are purely fictitious and are not to be taken aa r feirlng to any Dartlcular person, D**ce o r firm.

CHAPTER LX The rest of that black winter night always stood out in Mary Rose Middleton's mind like a weird and terrible dream. A hideous nightmare. The wild howling of the wind outside was part of~ft, and the beating of the savage storm against the windows of the hallway where she sat. So was the sickening medicinal smell of the hospital. She remembered afterward how Ito, the Fitzroys' Japanese chauffeur had come up to speak to her, grinning to hide his grief. Fifteen years before it had been he who had taught young Tom to drive. “Bad night—very rainy,” he' said. “I think poor Mr. Tom —he skid into other car. Man in other car not hurt—poor Mr. Jom’s neck broken! You see poor Mr. Tom’s car all smashed down at corner of your Btreet, eh?” And it was not until then that Mary Rose realized that one of the wrecked cars she had passed on her way was the one in which she and Tom had raced with the wind so many, many times! Slow tears rolled down her white cheeks, as she remembered how he had looked behind the driving wheel of that car. She could see him now, his red hair blown straight back, and his blue eyes narrowed as he guided the "stink wheel” over the roads of the open country, with her at his side. Strong and laughing and brave with youth he had been—that was so crushed and broken, now. She got up and tiptoed into the room where he lay. “We aren’t giving him any more morphine for a while,” Miss Sims whispered to her. “The minister’ll be here, soon. Dr. Tom’s father eeems to think it’ll make~him happy to know you're marrjed to him. I don’t know —I don’t”helieve much in these deathbed marriages, myself.” The door opened and Tom's father came in. "Don't you want your mother here with you, Mary Rose?” lie asked, putting his arm around her. But Mary Rose shook her head. Poor little mother! —she thought—there had been enough sorrow and heartbreak in her life without adding this unhappy memory to it. This marriage of Mary Rose's to her old playfellow and friend on his deathbed. She looked down at the gray face on s the pillows, and saw that. Tom had opened his ejes a little, once more, and was watching her with a great peace and contentment in them. She laid her hand, with its bright ring, lightly on the bandages that bound his forehead. And suddenly something that he had said to her, long ago, flashed across her brain, like lightning across darkness—“ Sometimes I know when ,-things are going to happen to me, and I know this —that you and'l are going to be married, sometimes, aure as Death!” Sure as death! And so they were going,to be married—sure as death! To Marv Rose it seemed as if death were waiting, somewhere out in the darkness, somewhere outside where the wind rattled the windows and doors like an impatient hand— She shivered. At four o'clock the minister came to marry them—Dr. Broderick, of St. Thomas’ church, where Tom had gone to Sunday School, and where as a young boy, he had sung in the choir. Tom’s mother had collapsed and was in a drugged sleep in the room across the hall. But his father and Miss Sims, in their white linen clothes, stood side try side before the dresser where two tall candles flickered. To Mary Rose they seemed like figures in a dream —this dreadful dream fbat went on and on— Nothing seemed real to her hut the familiar and beautiful words of the- marriage service. She had read them over so many times that she knew them by heart. “Dear beloved —we are gathered together here in the sight of God—to join together this man and this woman—” And at the sound of them, Mary Rose’s hear spfflhed to swell with unbearable pain. Her throat ached with the effort to keep down the lump that rose In it. eyes smarted with tears that she did not dare to shed. She knew that Tom’s eyes were on her. and that she must not let him

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know \that her heart - vas breaking. She must be the bride that would make him happy—a bride who was glad of her marriage. The smile that she gave him was as radiant us the sun rising over dark stormy waters. It was such a smile as a bride of June might have sent to her 'over from under a veil weighted with orange blossoms—and seeing it, Miss Sims, that hardened veteran of the wards, broke down and cried aloud. “Like a baby,” as | she confessed that morning at 7 o’clock breakfast to the other nurses. ‘T’ve seen many a sad sight in my seventeen years of batting around from hospital to hosiptal—but never anything like that marriage, la’St bight.”' * • * When it was over, old Dr. Fltzroy led Mary* Rose out into the wide hafi, with its rubbery smell and staring white walls, “I’m going to send you home with Ito, now, my girl,’’ he, said to her very gently. “You’ve been very brave —” He stooped his gray head, and kissed the white forehead. “No,” Mary Rose answered him clearly. “I'm going to stay with Tom right to the end.” "That may not come for hours and hours,” Toni’s father told her, and for a moment his voice had the professional sharpness of a great doctor “A broken neck doesn't always mean immediate death—and Tom won’t know you, anyway. They’re giving hint some more morphine—” Then suddenly his voice choked up, and he couldn’t go on. He opened the door of the room where his wife lay, prostrated by her grief, and closed it behind him. Mary Rose stood where he had left her for a long time —turning and twisting the ring on her finger, the ring that Tom had carried in his pocket for weeks. The ring that made her his wife. Outside the rain had ceased, and the wild was almost stilled. Mary Rose turned to the window and raised the shade. She could see the illuminated face of a clock, high up in the tower of some distant building It was half past five. She found her coat and her hat and slipped out into the cold dawn, and started home, alone. Very quietly she let herself into the y little brown house, went softly out into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. But when it was made she could not drink it. The very smell of it made her ill. As she started up the stairs, her mother's sleepy voice from above, startled her: “Is that you, Mary Rose? What time is it? Was Tom badly hurt?”' Mary Rose went into her room, and sat down beside her on the bed. Slje opened her lips to speak, but no sound would come fporn them. She felt her mother's hand on hers, and her insistent voice again: “Was Tom badly hurt, Rosey?” Somehow or other she managed to tell her the whole story, between the spasms of sobbing that racked her whole body—and her mother held her in her arms and cried with her. Cried with her for the sorrow and the grief and the cruelty of life that is part of its poignant glory. * * It was daylight before Mary Rose was ifi her bed. And above the of the eity the sun had come up and was shining as if there was nothing but happiness and joy in the whole world. It was then that she remembered that today was Christmas Eve. She lay down on her pillows, and incredibly, she fell asleep at v once. When she wakened her room was aglow with pale December sunlight. handle of the door Mimed, and her mother opened it just a crack and peeped In. "I'm awake, dear. Come in." Mary Rose said, and raised herself on her elbow. “What's the word from the hospital?” Mrs. Middleton came up. She was carrying a little tray in her hands, and she came and set it down on the bed. “Why, Tom seems to be resting comfortably, the nurse said,” she told the girl. “They're going to phone if there’s any change. Here’s this bit of toast. You eat it and I'll run down for the qpffee. It’s all made.” Mary Rose looked at the little watch fchat was strapped to her

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OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

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wrist. It was 4 o’clock. She had slept all day long 1! “No.” she said, “I’m going to get up and move around or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. You take the toast downstairs and I’ll eat It when you have your supper.” The paper was lying on the corner of the kitchen table when Mary Rose went down to the kitchen. As she started to open It, her mother took it from her. “There’s a piece in it about you and Tom,” she said, narrowly watching her. “Are you suro you want to read it?” “Why, of course/-" And Mary Rose turned it to the front page. There was the piece about halfway down the printed page: “Romantic Wedding in Hospital.” It told about the bedside wedding of “Miss Mary Rose Middleton and Dr. Thomas Fitzroy Jr., who have been sweethearts from childhood." And it explained that Tom had ben seriously Injured, but did not hint that he could not possibly recover. In fact. It was quite a cheerful little article, when you stopped to remember that Torn was lying at the point of death. “Flossie saw it in the paper and called up right way.” Mrs. Middle ton said, pouring vegetable soup into two blue bowls and taking a panful 'of browned crackers out of the oven. “I forgot to let her know abou’t it. I declare I didn't know which end I jvas on, after you came home this morning and told me you were married! Lots of people called up today—Aont Henny Blair, and Dexter from the works, and

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

nasty Miss MacFarlane that Flossie used to work for—” “John Manners must? have seen it, too.” Mary Rose said to herself. “I wonder what he thinks —” Then she made herself stop thinking of John Manners. She must not let herself think of him. She must put him out of her mind —forget that she loved him. She must remember that she was married to a man who was dying, a mile or two away. Married to Ton\ whom she loved as she might have loved a brother. “It doesn’t seem much like Christmas Eve, does it?” Mrs. Middleton asked her presently, when they had drunk their soup, and were beginning the cold meat, loaf. “I remember last Christmas Eve—and how you and Tom and I trimmed that little tree for t!fe dining room table." From the darkness of the front hall the telephone rang and she got up and answered it. “It was the hospital,” she said, when she came back into the kitchen. "Now, Mary Rose, keep s stiff upper lip—there's*no use breaking down at a time like this. The nurse says Tom ca'n’t live more than an hour or so. And she wantS you to go there right away.*’ s(To Be Continued) Read what happened at Tom’s bedside in tomorrow’s installment.

SALESMAN SAM—By SWAN'

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By MARTIN

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

WELL, CAN YOU BLAME THE GIRL? Marriage License Tossed Aside When Bank Roll’s Size in Revealed. If you’re going to fourflush, keep your bank book hidden ut til you hear your financee tell the minister “I do.” Recently, announcements for a wedding were sent out, the orchestra w r as hired, and receptions planned, for it was to be a ceremony to make folks “sit up and take notice.” And then the near-bride discovered her fiance's bank account had only $5 Instead of the $3,500 as he had represented. And she called off the marriage. one way of explaining why marriage licenses sometimes are re. turned to the county clerk’s office without being used. But such cases are few, according to Miss Margaret F. Mahoney, license clerk in the office of County Clerk Albert Losche. Bring Them Back When licenses are returned it usually ifc>pecause one of the parties has misrepiesented things. "The* usually bring ’em back and

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say ‘changed our mind,’ ” ss.id Miss Mahoney. A flashy young salesman recently secured a license to wed “one of his girl friends.” An acquaintance read the notice in a newspaper and on, meeting the salesman “and wife” congratulated the couple. The girl, registered astonishment, when greeted as Mrs— Women Too Busy - And the young man said, “Oh, I was drunk when I got the license. Since I sobered up I wouldn’t think of using it." Selection of the minister, who is to perform the ceremony often provides argument leading to the “change of mind.”* With so many women working nowadays, they do riot have time to come in and sign up, said Miss Mahoney. “Women just don’t think when they get in love. Many times women, old enough to know better, come in three or four weeks after the marriage and want to find husband’s record. They don’t investigate until after they have been 'deserted. “It's better to think first, then act," said Miss Mahoney, who has issued approximately 73.000 licenses In the past twelve years. Rocky Mountain air mail pilots enjoy a summer of two months, July and August. Fibertf of some kinds of milkweed have been used in making rope.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

FRUIT CROPS ARE LARGE Apples and Peaches in State Free From Pests. Free from pests and diseases, Indiana’s 1926 peach and apple crops will be unusually large, according to a survey just completed by Assistant State Entomologist Harry F. Dietz. Reports from all over the State indivate a fruit crop of exceedingly high quality,. The insect pests found most prevalent by Dietz were the cottony maple scale, flea beetle, army worm, “wire worm, blister beetle, stalk borer, turnip aphis, flea and yellow firefly. Fire blight and winter killing were the main diseases. Army worm outbreaks have occurred in Johnson, ‘Pike, Rush. Shelby, Boone, Hamilton and Hancock Countieq, but the darriage to corn has been slight, Dietz FOR SKIN TORTURES Zemo, the Clean, Antiseptic Liquid, Just What You Need Don't worry ,shont Eczema or other skin troubles. Ton cun hare a clear, healthy skin by using Zemo. Zemo generally removes Pimples, Blackheads, Blotches, Eczema and Ringworm and makea the akin clear and healthy. Zemo la a clean, penetrating. antiseptic liquid, that does not show and may be applied day or night. Ask your druggist for a small size 60c or large bottle sl-00.—Advertisement.

AUG. 12, 1926

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