Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 155, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 October 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

SONIA A Story of Dangerous Love -By VIDA HURST •

At a farewell party (riven by aristocratic SIIIN hi V MAINE to the senior class of Stockton High SSehool. SONIA MARSH/ 17 and pretty, is discovered kissingJOE CARTER in a dark bedroom. MRS. MAINE, the host's mother, criticises Sonia so harshly that she leaves at once. Sonia, whose parents are poor, is not trusted by the mothers of her home town, and is considered wild because she smokes. Joe. who intends to work in a garage with his father. loves Sonia, but realizes he is not in position to give her the place in the world to which she aspires. TOM UNDERWOOD asks Sonia to admit she doesn't care for Joe. and offers her a 1.000 engagement ring it she will wait for him until he is out of college. She agrees to consider his proposal. Sonia delivers a dress far DR. DONALD STILLWATER'S mother during her absence. After MARY, the maid, leaves the room, the young doctor offers to help Sonia get a position as bookkeeper for his uncle in San I ran cisco, to satisfy her longing to get away from the scandal in Stockton. On returning home. Sonia finds her father in a fury after having heard through her sister VERA news of her affair with Joe.

CHAPTER IV Sam Marsh was slow to anger, but his wrath, once roused, was a veritable cyclone. Sonia made no effort to pacify him. Instead, she turned to her mother. “This is your fault, mother. I knew he’d act like this.’’ “Your mother had nothing to do with it,” her father interrupted. “I overheard some boys talking in the store today. A fine thing for men to be smirking around about my daughter! If you weren’t so big I’d give you a thrashing right now.” “I’m surprised you don’t anyway," Sonia said, coldly. She knew how her insolence could hurt. “What do you mean doing a thing like that? Where do you think it will get you? Don't you realize how people talk?” He turned on his wife, too. “Have you talked to her? Has she offered any explanation to you?” “There isn’t any explanation to make, father,” said Sonia quietly. “It just happened, that’s all. I went after my handkerchief and Joe shut the door and kissed me.” “And you stand there and admit It?” You should hang your head with shame —are you sure that's all there was to it?” Sonia burst out crying. * “I think you’re dreadful. Every one suspects me of something awful. I didn’t do anything. I’m going away and never come back.” Her father melted instantly. “Come here, Sonia. Here, honey! Your dad doesn't think there was anything bad to it. Only I can’t stand having people say things about my baby.” “You said things, too.” “I didn’t mean them, He patted her shoulder. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. You musn't let the boys kiss you, that's all.” Sonia, opening one eye over his shouder. saw an inscrutable smile on her mother’s face. Why did her mother look like that whenever her father petted her? But she allowed herself to be comforted in his arms until gradually the crisis passed and peace reigned again. Several days later Sonia announced her intention of spending the day with her sister. Her mother offered no objection, so Sonia set forth. As she wandered down the sunny street, she was busily rehearsing the events of the last week. She had been kissed, proposed to, and advised by three different serious males, not including her father. “What is it about me men like?” she was thinking, with the impersonality of an artist. “I never flatter them. lam not beautiful. But they do like me. It's because I’m a mystery. They see things in me I don’t have.” She grinned, naughtily. “Let ’em see. The more they imagine the setter they ike it. Sweet fools.” She pushed the straight black hair from her eyes. There was a swiftness about her least motion, a winged precision that gave meaning to her slightest action. “At least,” she concluded, “I am not aimless, spineless, apologetic. Thank Cod for that.” As she opened the door of her sister’s little house, she heard the baby screaming. Sonia walked through to the kitchen where Marta was almost bursting her tiny lungs With angry cries. “Well, what’s the matter with you?” asked Sonia, rescuing the little derelict from the bottom of the buggy. The baby’s wet mouth dug frantically about her neck. “Hungry, aren’t you? Oh, Vera!” There was no answer but the door to the basement stood open. Sonia started down with the baby ov£r her shoulder. Vera sat sobbing, half way down the stairs. Garbage was scattered about her. Sonia was startled at the white face lifted to hers. “What in the world’s the matter?” “Oh, the confounded paper around the garbage broke when I was just tearing my hair to get the kitchen cleaned so I could bathe the baby before her 2 o’clock feeding. I haven’t touched the ironing yet and my back is just breaking.” Sonia said, composedly: “Your child seems to need food.” Vera took the baby while Sonia collected the garbage. “Some mess,” she muttered, kicking at the cat. “Yes, isn’t it?” Vera answered, without spirit. “Say,' Sonia demanded suspiciously, “what’s eating you anyway?” Vera brushed the untidy hair from her eyes an danswered, irritably. “I’m going to have another baby. That’s all. And when I told Paul last night do you know what he did? Stared at me as if I were crazy, said ‘Good Lord,’ and walked out the door.” Sonia was dumbfounded. Vera must be terribly low to confide in her like this. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Vera. Isn’t there anything you can do?” “Certainly not,” snapped her sister. “Nothing but have it. And that with precious little sympathy from my husband. Take it i^rom

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me, Sonia, when you get married fou’re nothing but a slave. “I adored Margaret Ann and I wanted Peter. But everything is so high. A dollar doesn't buy anything any more. I want my children to be clean and well bred. But that takes time and money. How much time can I devote to them when I spend every minute doing work a servant could do? How many new clothes do you suppose this baby had? None, except what was given to her. I can’t stand it, that’s all.” The despair in her voice sounded like a knell to the listening young girl. “If marriage is like this believe me I'll stay out of it,” Sonia shuddered. ‘Come on upstairs and lie down. .I’ll do the ironing for you and hathe :he baby.” Tears rushed again to Vera’s swollen eyes. “Oh. will you, honey? I’m so sick I can't see.” Leaning on Sonia’s strong arm she climbed upstairs and fell into her bed. Her thin face, sharpened with work and worry, was etched against the white pillow. “You don't know what It means to me, Sonia, to be able to lie down.” . “Shut your eyes and go to sleep. I won’t do more than drown this poor kid.” Sonia’s sympathy was as awk. ward as a boy's. Her heart ached for Vera, but she abhorred sentment, particularly between women. * * * She bathed the baby, gingerly, almost afraid to touth the tender skin. It roused no maternal instinct In her. Instead she was wishing she could be Paul Warner’s wife for about one hour. Wouldn’t she tell him a thing or two. “The dirty dog,” muttered Sonia, twisting cotton in the baby’s buttonhole nose. “Walking out the door like that. Leaving Vera to worry over it all alone.” Vera wasn’t bad looking, either, She could have had lots of good times if Paul hadn't insisted on getting married. Later when the baby was asleep in her buggy and Sonia was banging the iron up and down the ironing board, she heard the front door ! open. Paul came softly down the hall. “What’s the idea?” she asked coldly. He seemed embarrassed to find her there. "I came home for something. What’s the matter with Vera?” “You ought to know.” Shamed color rose In Paul’s cheeks. “I know. I acted like the devil last night. I didn’t see how In the world we were going to manage with four kids.” ‘W should think if Vera can stand it you ought to be able to bear up,” Sonia responded cruelly. But he seemed in no mood for retaliation now. “I know. I ought to be kicked.” When he had gone upstairs Sonia found she had left the iron standing on his shirt. “And I don’t give a damn,” she siid, viciously. “I hope Vera just lays him low.” She listened, but there was no sign of conflict from the room upstairs. After awhile Paul came down and went away again. The two older children came in begging for bread and butter. And before thei ironing was finished it was time for lunch. Sonia pushed the hair from her perspiring forehead and sighed. “Think of working like this every day in the week for years.” Through the kitchen window she could see Tom's mother pulling weeds in her garden. She had a disreputable hat flapping about her ears and old kid gloves on her hands. “Wouldn't she die if she~ knew Tom had offered to buy me a diamond? I’d like to take him up on that just to see her squirm. Her precious Tommy boy engaged to Sonia Marsh!” But the thought of Don Stillwater’s promise to write his uncle shone in her mind like a lamp. Everything would be all right is she could only get to San Francisco. She boiled potatoes for the children’s lunch and made a pitcher of iced tea for Vera, with thin pimento sandwiches. Poor Vera had looked so miserable, so unutterably tragic! Sonia fed the children and put them In bed for their naps before she went upstairs Then with the tea and sandwiches on an old copper tray, she knocked at her sister’s door. She was surprised to find Vera relaxed and smiling. Her cheeks were faintly flushed. “Bless your heart, Sonia. This is awfully sweet of you.” She sat up to take the tray and Sonia aat down beside her. Every muscle in her body ached. “Paul came back,” confided Vera, between bites, “just to tell me how sorry he was. He said he walked the street for hours last night worrying about me and wondering how we’d manage.” “It was a dandy way to show his sympathy,” Sonia remarked, icily. “Oh, Sonia, you don’t understand. Wait until you’re married, darling.” "I wasn’t so dumb that I couldn’t see how you looked this morning. Things haven’t changed any since then that I can notice.” "But they have, dear. That's just it. Paul says we will hire some one to do the ironing and he will do the scrubbing at night after he gets home.” She turned to Sonia and her eyes were no longer bitter, but dark and

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sweet. “You see, this morning I was bearing it all alone, but now Paul’s helping me.” Sonia rose and stalked from the room. “This is what I get,” she thought, “for working like a dog all morning. Paul’s helping her!” What really hurt was that dark sweek look in her sister’s eye. When she had finished the dishes and straightened the kitchen she

Smut aid Sismer By ANNE AUSTIN

CHAPTER XX “You want to marry Cherry—ln spite of everything—in spite of today?” Faith managed to speak at last, wetting her dry lips and passing a weary hand over her wind-rav-aged brown hair. ‘ I don’t think I said anything about wanting ti.” Hathaway took her arm with gentle courtesy and led her toward the door. “But you have shown me today the beauty of unselfishness. We can’t let her—” he motioned toward the bedroom where Mrs. Lane lay stricken “ —worry herself into the grave." “Cherry would be safe with you,” Faith said slowly, and wondered why he could not hear the heavy, grief-laden plunging of her heart. They went straight to Mrs. Ettleson’s room in the second-rate hotel, and found her sitting, a forlorn, redeyed, hopeless huddle on the edge of her bed. They had agreed—Faith and Bob —that it would be better to lie to heh, better to save what they could for her out of the wreckage of her life. “Cherry had merely gone to Darrow for a day with your husband, Mrs. Ettleson,” Faith told her steadily, her kind eyes filled with pity. ‘They had been planning for your husband to help her go on the stage, but there was nothing but a silly flirtation between them. He told us so, and Cherry was amazed that you could have misinterpreted her letters.” “He’ll hate me for interfering," Mrs. Ettleson said dully, tears splashing down the gray pallor of her cheeks. “No, he won’t. A man likes to be fought over,” Faith forced herself to smile with gay reassurance. “Go home and wait for him. He's just

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

decided to go home. She had no desire to meet Paul again. Anyway, she said to herself as she left, this settled Tom’s idea. "I wouldn't marry him for a SI,OOO ring.” As she passed the postoffice Don Stillwater came up to her. “I’ve just had a reply from my uncle,” he said. “If you can arrange to leave next week there will be a place In his office for you.” (To Bo Continued)

gone on his regular trip to New York. Believe me, Mrs. Ettleson, Cherry is not in love with your husband. She’s In love with Mr. Hathaway—engaged to be married to him.” She smiled again, but her lips were twisted with pain. “Tell her, Bob.” “That’s right, Mrs. Ettleson,” Bob Hathaway answered. “Cherry simply wanted to have her fling before we were married, wanted one season in a muscial comedy, so she could brag about it to her children for the rest of her life, I suppose. She’s a nice kid, really, even if she is a little vain over her good looks. Try to believe, Mrs. Ettleson, that you have nothing to fear from Cherry Lane. Now—have you had your dinner? Made your reservation back lo Indianapolis?” "No." The woman rose uncertainly, began to waver about the room, in a futile attempt to pack her few belongings. “I’m not hungry. 1% doesn’t matter about the reservation. I can always get an upper. Was—was Albert awfully mad at she asked pitifully, her reddened eyes fixed in humble appeal upon Faith’s calm, serene face. “I tell you, Mrs. Ettleson,” Faith answered briskly, taking over the packing of the bag herself, “if I were you, I’d never mention the matter to Mr. Ettleson. He’ll probably come home, expecting you to nag him to death about it, and if you meet him cheerfully, all dressed up in some new clothes, which I’d buy right away if I were you, why, he’ll probably be so glad to find you acting sensibly that he’ll spend most of his time thinking up nice w r ays to make it up to you. Men are such fools, even the best of them, aren’t they?” “I guess I’m too crazy about Al-

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By MARTIN

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSEB

bert.” The tears gushed .again. “He used to be awfully sweet to me, when we were first married, and I was kinda pretty.” Mrs. Ettleson flushed. “I think I’ll go back to work, doll mysef up a little, take time to get a few facials and a manicure every week. It makes him jealous for me to work In an office, but I guess that won’t do him any harm.” After Bob Hathaway had obtained a lower berth for her, and had ordered a light, delicious dinner—which he paid for—sent up to her room, and Faith had shyly but warmly "kissed her good-by, they went down to his car In silence, the monstrous fact of his engagement to Cherry—whom he no longer loved, whom she despised—stalking like an evil ghost - between them, holding them apart. All her life, Faith thought bitterly, she had been shielding Cherry and Junior, acting as a buffer between them and punishment at the hands of their parents. She had lied for her. shielded her always from the consequences of her foolish escapades. And now she was called upon to give up her one chance at happiness. For she knew, by a dozen signs, that Bob Hathaway’s heart, bruised and betrayed by Cherry, had turned to her during this last week, that if she said the word he would repudiate his quixotic sacrifice, and find everlasting peace in the bigness of her love for him. And yet she knew too that she could not say the word: she knew thht once again she would do as she had always done —give up to Cherry the thing she wanted most in the world. There was some comfort In knowing that Bob Hathaway had learned self-sacrifice from her, that they both he w r as doing it far her sake —for Faith’s sake, not for Cherry’s. They had not spoken a word to each other —Faith and Bob—when his car stopped before the shabby, sprawling little house in Myrtle St. “Are you coming in?" Faith avoided his eyes, but she saw that his lean, tanned jaws were clamped together so that little ridges of muscle stood out. “I guess I’d better speak to—to Cherry,” he answered in a flat, dead voice. “Long” Lane flung the screen door wide as they advanced up the narrow graveled path. “Hey, Sis! There’s the devil to pay!” “Not so loud. Junior,” Faith cautioned him, as she stepped no on the porch, Bob Hathaway clos - behind her. “How’s Mother?*'

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"Asleep,” he answered sullenly, but his voice was obediently lowered. "Say, what d’you think? Cherry ran off with my bus! Yes, sir, Fay and I found it a block from the station, with the padlock pried off the doors, and her suitcase missing. VV hat the devil’s she been up to, I’d like to know? It’s a good thing for her nothing was stolen. A cop—friend o’ mine—recognized the bus and stood guard on it till I come along. Can you beat it, Sis? Honest, that little devil—” “Where is Cherry, Junior?” Faith brushed past him into the living room. “Gosh, I don’t know! I just come In. Nobody in the hduse but Mom, and she looks awful. Sick again?" Before Faith, bewildered, stricken with new terror, could answer, there came the clatter of a banging kitchen door, the sound of small feet flying through the dining room. Joy, In a trailing nightgown, her round race, paper white, her sharp, gray eyes starting from her head with terror, catapulted herself against Faith. “Faith. Dad’s going to whip Cherry! He’s got his razor strop! He says he’s going to skin her alive! They w’oke mo up!” “Where are they? Quick, Joy! Where are they? Don’t stutter like a little idiot!” She shook the child ruthlessly. “Out in the shed!” Joy panted, unholy joy at this tremendous excitemen shooting like darts of lightning through the very real terror in her eyes. “He drug her out of the house! And lie’s got his razor strop. Faith! He slid the bolt in the shed and told me he’d give me a licking, too, if I didn’t got in the house and stay there! He looks awful, Faith! Soon as Mom was asleep, he jerked her up out of her chair and drug her—- “ That’ll do, Joy!” Faith flung off her sister’s clinching hands, and ran toward the kitchen, her face as white as Joy’s. “Guess -we’d better go along, Hathaway," “Long” Lane said gruffly. “Dad’s a peaceful citizen mostly, but when his dander’s up, he’s liable to do something he’ll regret.” For the second time that day Faith flung herself upon a locked door, behind which Cherry Lane was screaming for help. Long, red welts upon the,tender flesh of her little Flster! The skin of her own body crawled at the thought. “Dad! It’s Faith! Let me in Dad!” “Here, I’ll attend to this.” “Long’s” voice was suddenly that of a grown man. He hurled his tall body against

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

the flimsy double doors of the shed, which gave almost immediately. Cherry lay on the dusty floor of the shed, once used as a stable by previous tenants, and now serving as a coal and wood house. In the flickering light of a lantern swinging from a rafter they could planily see the print of a man’s hand on one delicate, apric&t-tinted cheek, and across her bare forearm lay a long, angy welt, left there by the vicious lash of the razor strop which Jim Lane held aloft in a trembling hand. “Get up off that floor and take your beating!” Jim Lane was saying when the doors were burst open. “Get out of here, Junior, or I’ll give you a dose of the same medicine! Get out, Faith!” he ordered thunderously, as his oldest daughter stumbled into the shed .and flung herself to the floor, to gather her shuddering, sobbing sister into her arms. "That’ll be enough, Dad.” Junior strode to his father and snatched the uplifted strop from his hand. "Cherry's not a kid any more. A licking or two when she was a kid might have helped, but it won’t do any good now. You’ll be ashamed of yourself for this. Dad.” “Cherry, Cherry!" Faith had her sister in her arms, was kissing the cruel welt on her arm, the livid print of her father’s hand on her face. Jim Lane glared wildly about him, then staggered, brushing his eyes, as if to dispel the red mists of rage. Then he looked with bewilderment at the hand .which had been raised against his daughter. He began to shudder as if with a chill.’ “Something come over me,” he muttered. “Something come over me—all of a sudden. Her mother’s spoiled her. Oughta been spanked more when she was a child. Never made to mind. Something come over me.” Again he brushed a rough, knuckly hand over his eyes, then seemed to realize for the first time that Bob Hathaway was standing near the wrecked doors of the shed. “That you, Hathaway? I’m sorry you go* let in for this. Made a fool of myself, I guess. But when I saw what she’d done to her mother—almost killed her, runnng away with a married man like that—then coming home as perky as ever, lying and grinning and not a bit sorry—well, sir, something come over me. But she needed a licking, Hathaway. By God, she needed a licking! But—l guess she needed it ten years ago, and it’s too late to begin now.”

OCT. 5, 1926

“Mr. Bob Hathaway came forward slowly, his blue eyes filled with sympathy for the bewildered, ashamed father, “I came over this evening to ask you if you’d let me marry Cherry.” Incredible relief dawned on Jim Lane's mild, tear-filled brown eyes. Cherry jerked upright In Faith's arms, gasped. In tho pale light of the lantern her yellow eyes gleamed like those of a tigress. “I guess I've got something to say about it!” her voice rose shrilly, cracking on a sob. “You treated me like a dog today, coming home from Darrow. I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth, Bob Hathaway. Trying to play the noble Sir Galahad, aren't you? Well, I've made my plans, and they don't elude any blue-eyed he-salnts, er!” (To Be Continued)

Hotel Astor * NEW YORK *

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