Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 225, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 December 1926 — Page 9

DEC. 25, 1026

IF YOU WANT TO BE A MISSIONARY, JUST BE CHEERFUL

You’re Fortunate, Wife Whose Husband Doesn’t Worry ® Is Told by Martha Lee —Such Men, She Says, Are Both Rare and Fine. By Martha Lee II you long to be a missionary and do lots of good in the world, be cheerful. A cheerful person is like a good spring tonic. He revivifies the spirts of all who come in contact with him and the most hard working philanthropist would have to step some to spread around as much sunshine in the world as he does.

"He has such a cheerful personality!” That’s about as admirable a tribute as any one could pay us. People used to say that about good old Phillips Brooks, who years ago, as a preacher in New York City so spread the gospel of good will that the 'poor in a certain district used to say, “It was sunshine for half an hour today. Phillips Brooks passed j through Pie Alley.” Cheerful folks smooth out the wrinkles and ease out the stitches in our dispositions, and any one who wants a recipe for popularity, or who longs to cultivate an intriguing personality, could do no better than to charge 1 the air about him with cheerfulness. He Won't Worry Dear Martha Lee: l am bored to tears husband. Ho just seems so unconabout everything that goes on in house. He does not worry about a sniffle thins, while poor me has to sputter and stew tor both of us. Sometimes I feel like doing’ something terrible just to see if he could be made to worry. Did you ever hear of a man like that? MADGE. Not often have I heard of such a man. They’re too rare and fine. You’re one lucky woman and don’t know it. Many are the wives of grouchy men who would give high thanks to heaven could they have such a sunbeam around the house. No Engagement Ring Dear Martha Lee: I have been going with a young man over two and one-half years, and 1 love him dearly. About a year ago we became engaged, but he did not give me a ring. I did not expect it at that time, as I knew he, had other obligations. Since that time he has given me other gifts amounting to the same in cost, but I have been expecting a ring, of course. What would you think he means by such actions? WONDERING. He doesn’t mean anything. He’s just plain dumb in the ways and thoughts of women. He, poor fellow, no doubt is blissfully unaware that girls set their hearts upon a ring under such conditions. Tin fact that he spent money, equivalent to the cost of a ring, proves that it is not parsimony that has kept him from making the purchase you so wish. If you love him tu you say, this oversight on his part shouldn’t make a rift. Forget it, a.d be happy and some day he’ll wake up to the oversight. AMBER NECKLACES An increasing interest is being shown by women of fashion in necklaces of amber, carnelian and jade, In preference to the more costly jewels.

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mm and mm By Anne Austin

IKK STORY SO TAR RALPH CLUNY. 08. wa murdered lust before he was to have married CHERRY LANE. 18. As if that not enough for people to talk about. Cherry disappeared, leaving a note for her sister. FAITH, stying she could not go on with the wedding. Later it was discovered Cherry had run away and married CHRIS WILEY. News oi the murder is kept from Mrs. Lane. Cherry’s mother, who is in a hospital suffering from heart trouble. Ail she knows is that Cherry has run away and married CHRIS WILEY. Cherry has lived a butterfly life. Always there have been many men in love with her and she has been engaged to more than a tew. She tried to run away with ALBERT ETTLESON, a married traveling salesman, and was rescued by Faith and a young man, 808 Hathaway. Up to this time Bob had oeen very much interested ift Cherry, but now he paid more attention to Faith, who has loved him for a long time. They are engaged now and al though Faith did not want to announce it yet Bob has told the police and th< world in general. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY Mary Kearney folded her handkerchief to her entire satisfaction befoye answering the coroner’s question. To Faith, straining forward in her seat, it seemed as if the maid was bent on keeping the spotlight upon herself as long as possible. “Well, sir, there was a man sitting in the car, at the steering wheel. The window of the car was down about half way, so he could stick his arm out to make traffic signals, you know, and I saw his face, side View. It was Mr. Chris Wiley, sir.” "How do you know it was Mr. Wiley, Mary? Do you know him personally?" the coroner demanded sharply. “Oh, yes, sir, everybody knows Mr. Wiley by sight, anyway. And I used to work for his sister, Mrs. John Bemis. Mr. Chris used to come to the house frequently.” “All right, Mary, go on. What happened after Miss Cherry ran up the stairs?” Mary Kearney blushed and dropped her eyes for a moment, then lifted her head and went on defiantly. “I stayed downstairs for a minute or two, then I thought—l thought Mr.

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Cluny might need me for something and I went upstairs. I thought I ought to listen a minute before knocking—” “Eavesdropping. eh?” Coroner Murchison grinned. “I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, sir,” Mary Kearney retorted. “But 1 didn’t want to but in ts I wasn’t needed.” “Well, the truth is, you listened outside the door, Mary. Now tell us what you heard.” “I couldn’t hear everything they said, sir, because the door’s thick, and the walls too. But when they raised their voices real loud, I could hear plain as day. About the first thing I heard was Miss Cherry screaming out, ‘But I can’t, Ralph! I can’t marry you! I thought I could go through with It, but I can’t! Her voice sounded like she was crying.” “Oh!” Faith covered her face with her hands. “Keep a stiff upper lip. darling, for Cherry’s sake,” Bob whispered to her. “And what did Mr. Cluny answer, Mary? Be careful to tell only what you heard, and exactly what you heard,” Coroner Murchison warned her. “I didn’t hear what he said, but his voice was soothing and low. like he was laughing at her a little,” Mary Kearney replied. "Then I heard Miss Cherry cry out, “I’m going to marry Chris, and you can’t stop me! I won’t marry you, I won t, 1 say! You can’t force me to!” And then Mr. Cluny shouted at her, ‘You’re not going to make a fool of me like this, Cherry! I can and will force you to keep your word. You won’t leave this room until Bob comes, then you’ll go home with him and dress for your wedding. I’m not going to have any nonsense at this late hour.” “What then, Mary?” the coroner prodded, as the maid paused to enjoy the sensation she had created. “Then I heard Miss Cherry scream, “I’ll kill myself first. I’d rather b? dead!” And then I heard her run across the room and fling herself

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against the door. I backed away, but Mr. Cluny opened the door real quick and looked out into the hall. I saw him plain, lie was holding Miss Cherry by the arm, and she was crying and pounding at him with her fists. "Then Mr. Cluny saw me backed up against the wall, and lie was terrible mad. He shouted at me, ‘Go downstairs and stay in the kitchen 'till I ring for you!” I started to run downstairs and he came out in the hall, and shut the door, with Miss Cherry inside, beating on the door. He said to me, he said, ‘MAry, if you tell anything you’ve heard here tonight, you’ll be discharged without notice. Now go and stay in the kitchen until Mr. Hathaway comes. Send him upstairs, but you needn’t come up yourself.’ Well, I ran downstairs and didn't bear anything else, until Mr. Hathaway rang the doorbell at a quarter to nine.” “How far is the kitchen from the front stairs. Mary?” Coroner Murchison asked, his face very grave. Next: The coroner opens fire on Mary Kearney herself. (Copyright, 1926, NEA Service, Inc.)

Household Suggestions

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THE WOMAN’S DAY By A lie ne Sumner

“A Merry Christmas” A merry, merry Christinas to each and every one of you. from the depths of my heart! And to you who cannot he merry this Christmas, may I wish a peaceful Christmas, a Christinas as peaceful and quiet as the blanket of pearlsheened snow which we hope for this Christmas day. And now may I, even on this merry, merry Christmas day, tell you a story that may not seem merry? Just at Twilight It was last Christmas day. Twilight time. Mauve shadows over the snow. The merriment a little stilled. The young nieces ar.d nephews tired after a day’s frolic with the new toys, the picture books read, too, early for the lights to be turned on the tree, a little soon after the gcyise dinner for the cold lunch supper. Time, with one’s own merriment a little dimmed, to think of others. Down to Peggy’s I slipped into my coat to “run down” to see Peggy's mother a minute. I dreaded it. It was “a duty trip.” Peggy’s mother was all alone this Christmas. Peggy, my schoolday chum, and her new baby had left the world of Christmases just before the New Year a year ago. Peggy was the last child and Peggy's mother was a widow. No brothers, no sisters, and Peggy’s husband had moved away with the other three children. Peggy’s mother who. had known many, many Christmases with a house crammed with children’s merriment, was alone, we thought. It was only decent to slip in with a white tissue packet and murmur “Merry Christmas” to her. “Do You Remember” The coming visit shadowed the white snow. Os course, she would want to talk about Peggy, dip into the package of memories and feast

on “do you remembers?” Did I remember the time Peggy and I went skating on the river and fejl through? Did I remember the time we changed our dresses and told the new teacher we were twins. Did I remember— She Fooled Me Laggingly I reached Peggy's mother's home. No drabness here. Scarlet bunches of holly at every window. A giddy Christmas tree throwing jewel flashes through the window. A sound of carols and children's laughter, and Peggy's mother herself at the door, rose in her cheeks, holly in her soft white shawl, her hands warm as she welcomed me in, and her “Merry Christmas” less quavering than my own. No “Duty Call” This was no “duty call.” The spirit of Christmas filled that house as it had in the years ago when Peggy and her - brothers and I dragged In spruce boughs and littered the house with our amateur wreath-making. The fact itself was simple. Peggy's mother had simply gone into the highways and byways and brought into the house which once rang with the Christmas joy of her own brood, all those, young and old, rich and poor, who were lonely and bereft and despairing that Christmas time, even as she might have been. The Real Story But the story that she told me afterwards when the old big house was still, and they had gone home, was bigger than the thing itself. ‘Years ago, when I was Just a girl,” said Peggy’s mother, “for the first time in years I was to be the only one at home for Christmas. My brother who had hung up his stocking with me unt 1 we were both more than 20, was m. rried. He had been mother's jewel. When he went, she slumped, admitted that there was no

special interest in life for her, and home was rather a gloomy place. “I was teaching school and went home every Friday night. I had been planning Christmas for the family for weeks, had made mother all sorts of things. I just toclk it for granted that Christmas would go on in our house whether brother was there or not. I'll never forget the Christmas eve when I got home from school. No Christmas Here “Our house looked dark when I got there, not welcoming. I opened the door and turned on the light. There sat mother, brooding in the dusk. She looked at me coldly, ’Oh. so I have one child to come home!’ she said resentfully. The fire was out and the house was cold. Nothing for supper. No holly wreaths. No presents. No Christmas spirit. The only way in which Christmas was mentioned by mother was when she began crying about how we used to do things when brother was home. Never Forgot "I have never forgotten that blank Christmas, and I vowed that it should do one thing for me—that never, never, never in all my life would I let outer circumstances get me and kilt the Christmas spirit within myself. I decided that Christmas was eternal, that held something for us even apart from family unity to share it. Got Busy “Then I made my Christmas invitation list. The town welfare director helped me. I am no Laujy Boun-

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PAGE 9

—By Martin

tiful. I atn justa selfish, proud old woman, bound that by hook or crook the Christmas spirit shall continue to dwell within me, with or without chick of my own. “The only secret of living 1* to be self-reliant, full of resources within self, whether your heart is breaking or not.” Just "Merry Christmas” Please don't think this a .sermon, it’s just a “Merry Christmas” to those whose hearts may be breaking, too!’ COSTUME DRESSES For the more formal occasions, gowns are being shown that plainly reflect the renaissance designs and colorings. These picturesque costumes are not a good investment for the woman who may aspire to few evening clothes, but make stunning outfits for infrequent'use. LOUNGING ROBES Quilted satin lounging robes lined in contrasting colors are far In ad vance of the negligee mode. In general, even boudoir garments are showing the tailored lines with little trimming.

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