Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 287, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 March 1927 — Page 14

PAGE 14

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SYNOPSIS Joyce Daring flees from a home broken by the separation of her parents, shortly after her mother, Agnes Daring, departs. Three suitors, David Tompkins, Henry Deacon and “Butch” Seltzer, offer to marry Joyce and make her a home, but she refuses. She takes a room, gets the promise of a job, and goes to sleep indifferent to the catastrophe about her. She is awakened by a visit from an old man whom she suspects to be her father, John Daring, and a policeman. CHAPTER VII. FLOTSAM Joy's heart was in her throat as she followed Mrs. Jenkins down stairs. A policeman! The old man was her father, of course. What could they do to her? One thing only was she certain of. She had taken too many steps toward freedom to turn back now for anything less than physical force. John Daring an uncertain step toward his daughter as she entered the Jenkins parlor. Mrs. Jenkins took up a discreet position near the door, where she could hear and see without being noticed. “Dads!” the baby name came unbidden to Joy’s lips. “Joyce—Lass,” John Daring’s voice was thick. “God be praised you’ve come to no harm.” Joyce flung back her head. “Home?” she challenged him. “Come now,” said the officer of the law, who had dealt with many a runaway girl in his time. “Come now, Papa’s all ready to take you back with him. Home’s the place for a px-etty girl like yourself.” “I haven’t any home,” said Joyce, speaking in a voice that -surprised her by its steadiness. “My father and mother are separating. What kind of a home is that?” Officer Sullivan was puzzled. “They’ll make it up with you back there,” he said uncertainly. “Go along home with father and let him take care of you.”

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“He didn’t take cars of my mother,” said Joyce. John Daring’s face worked. “So you sit in judgment on your elders," he cried in a terrible tone. “Certainly this is a generation of Vipers. You’re an obstinate lass. Joyce Daring I bid ye come home where you belong.” Joyce saw only the stern and angry face of an outraged parent. “I’m eighteen, Mr. Policeman,” She said childishly, “and I’ve got the promise of a job. This is a respectable place to live and I want to try try to take care of myself. You can’t arrest me for that, can you?” Officer Sullivan shook his head. His sympathies lay with this pretty young thing who was caught in the wreckage of a broken home. Best let her alone was his philosophy, so long as she was willing to work and behave herself. “There’s nothing more I can do,” he said to John Daring. “Your daughter is of age and you needn't worry about her being here at Mrs. Jenkins. She keeps a respectable house and looks after her young ladies.” He made ready to leave, nodding good night as he passed from the room and down Euclid avenue toward the theater district. John Daring turned his hat about in his hands. “Ye won’t come?” he asked Joyce, the first note of pleading! creeping Jnto his voice. Joyce, near to tears, shook her head. “Not now, Dads,” she said. “Maybe later, but now I feel I’ve got to find out about life for myself for awhile.” “There’s always a place for ye, lass, by my side, so long as ye’re a good, pure girl,” said John Daring, his voice shaking. Joyce flew to his frms and buried her face in his rough coat. “Dads, she sobbed. “Try to understand. Sooner or later I had to live my own life. What yoU and mother are doing just makes it come a little sooner, that’s all.” They sat down on the little sofa and Joyce told him of her plans. “Won’t you come back to the apartment and stay through next week, so ye can get your diploma, Lass?” Joyce shook her head. “That part of my life is over,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to face the other girls. They all know about you and mother dear now. It’s all over the neighborhood. I’ve done all the work. They’ll give me my credits at high school and count me a graduate whenever I apply for work and that’s all that’s really necessary. The rest of it —the commencement and everything—would have been fun, of course, but that’s all over now.” “The sins of the fathers,” said John Daring. “Ye’ve already begun to pay for your father’s and vour mother’s frivolity, Lass. Well, maybe it's all for the best. Good night, Lass.” He lumbered heavily from the room. Mrs. Jenkins, much affected by this scene, was wiping her eyes in the hall. “Good night to you,” said the father. “Take care of my little girl, won’t you?” Joyce went, up to bed, heavy hearted and sad. Officer Sullivan was pondering deeply as he went up the avenue. It was sad to see such a young girl, such a pretty girl, thrxlst out into the world so soon, so ill prepared. He turned into Clark s restaurant and sat at the counter. The pretty, faded woman who al ways waited on him wished him good evening. “The usual thing?” she asked. Officer Sullivan nodded. The waitress placed before him a cup of smoking hot cftffee, a plate of baked beans, two doughnuts on a saucer. '“Nice evening,” she commented.

“Yes,” said Sullivan, sugaring his coffee and stirring it meditatively, “for them that is happy it’s always a nice evening.’* “Come now, your’s not unhappy,’ rallied the waitress. “No, but I’ve seen them this night i that isn’t happy,” he said. “That so?” and the pretty faded woman wiped the connter witl\ the expert touches of long experience. “I just come from taking a father to find his daughter,” said Sullivan. “It seems that this old man and his woman have busted up. They got this one child, the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on. She couldn’t make up her mind which one of them to go with, so being a young lady of spirit, she strikes out for herself. The old man came into headquarters this afternoon and showed us a note he and the old woman found which says his daughter’s gone to the Y. W. C. A. But when he was there to look she hadn't come in. “So they sent me out to look and I located her out at Mrs. Jenkins' place on Euclid avenue. I went in with the old man and tried’to get her to come 1 home with him, but she wouldn’t. Said she hadn't any home and that she’d get along by herself for a while. I think she will too,” he finished, admiringly. “What kind of a looking girl was she?” asked the waitress, bending so that he could not see her agitated face. “Mighty pretty—reminds me of you, now I come to think of it. Same curly hair, same pretty mouth. Might be your- sister for a fact.” And he put down his cup to stare at Number twenty-seven, who had brought him his nightly beans and coffee for nearly two years now. “It is funny how people resemble each other that way, isn’t it?” commented Number twenty-seven, and she passed to the other side of the counter to wait on a welcome newcomer. "I’m glad he didn’t guess,” she said to herself. “I don’t think he approves very much of that girl’s mother.” An hour later, her work finished, she was walking up Euclid avenue scanning the numbers of the ole nansions whose glories had departed ■avlng them the rightful prey o. he rooming house keepers. She had looked up the number of

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Joyce Went to Bed Heavy Hearted and Sad the Jenkins house in the telephone book. “There it is,” she half whimpered. She looked up at a light on the second flooi'. “If that could be Joy,” she said to herself. For a moment she had a fierce impulse to go in and see the girl.* “But it would look queer this time of night,” she thought. So she turned back to her own little room in the transit floor of the Y. W. C. A. to sleep impatiently until morning. It was a little after nine when Mrs. Jenkins, wearing her Sunday white apron, answered the ring of the door bell. Before her stood a woman whose face was vaguely familiar. “Have you any rooms now?” asked the stranger. “I have one very nice one, fifteen dollars a week single, on the second floor, right next to the bathroom,” said Mrs. Jenkins. “Oh, nothing so expensive asi that,” said the stranger. “I want something very cheap. From the street I saw that you have a little cuploa on the third floor. Is that vacant?” “Well,” said Mrs. Jenkins, “I’ve never rented that room, but I could put a bed up there. There’s no heat in winter, though you could use an oil stove. I could let you have that for seven dollars a week.” “Five,” said the stranger firmly. There was a little further argument, but after a while Mrs. Daring walked up the steep attic stairs after Mrs. Jenkins. “When would you want to come in?” she asked the stranger. “Right away,” was the answ r er, and Mrs. Daring held out a tep dollar bill. “Here is two weeks’ rent in advanci. My name is Mrs. Martin. I’m a late afternoon cashier at Clark’s and like to rest in the day time, so I will be glad of this quiet place.” Mrs. Jenkins, feeling that she had found ten dollars, smiled at her new roomer and tramped down stairs. MrS. Daring closed and locked the door, then unpacked her bag and wrote a note. Presently she left the house and made her way to the Western Union office, where she gave the note to a messenger to deliver to “Miss Joyce Daring.” That done she went into a public telephone booth and telephoned to Henry Deacon. When she came out a few minutes later it was with a smile of satisfaction on her face. She bad summoned Deke to a meeting

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with Joyce in the restaurant at eleven that night. Back in the Dax-ing apartment on 78th sti'eet, Joy’s father was trying to persuade Davey to go to see Joyce. “I feel that Joy will send for me when she is ready to see me,” said Davey, steadily. But Mr. Daring’s persuasions joined to his own eager inclination broke down Davey’s resistance, and when Joyce ran up the steps of the Jenkins home after an afternoon of window shopping with Gladys, Davey was waiting for her in the parlor of the i-ooming house. “Davey!” she cried at sight of the waiting young man, and she held out welcoming hands. “Joy!” Davey had ti-ouble repressing the “darling” that would rise to his lip£. They clasped liands.^ “How did you know whex-e to find me?” aswed the girl. “Your father told tee,” said Davey. “Oh,” Joy’s face grew sober. “Is he all right?” “As well as he can be with you away,” said Davey. “Here’s a letter for you, Miss Daring,” said Mts. Jenkins, coming in

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with thof note the messenger had left. Joyce tore it open. “Dear Joyce,” it ran, “will you come in to see me tonight about eleven? I’ll be through work then and we can talk. I am anxious to see you and glad to know you are making a start toward living your own life. “Your mother, AGNES DARING.” “It’s from mother,” said Joyce to Davey. “She wants me to come in to see her after work tonight.” “Then come on out to supper with me,” urged Davey. We’ll go to a movie afterward and then I’ll take you up to meet your mother.” Phomptly at eleven Deke entered the Clark restaurant and nodded to Mrs. Daring. She seated him nervousliy and placed an order of toast and coffee before him. Then they looked at the clock. “She should be here soon,” the mother said anxiously. Deke stared at his untouched food. •Both of them turned to the door as it opened. Joyce was dancing in. With her was Davey Tompkins. Tomorrow—A bit of flotsam saved fwxm a home wrecked by a separatum, a girl of 18 finds her new freedom intoxicating. Bead of the inTest Answers Here are the answers to today’s intelligence test, which is printed on page 9: 1. Nathaniel, Hawthorne. * 2. Lord Byron. 3. Joseph Conrad. 4. Rudyard Kipling. 5. “What Price Glory?” 6. Sinclair Lewis. 7. “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” 8. “Gulliver’s Travels.” 9. Carl Van Vechten. 10. In “Othello.”

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