Indianapolis Times, Volume 39, Number 279, Indianapolis, Marion County, 19 March 1928 — Page 14

PAGE 14

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THIS HAS HAPPENED SALLY FORD. 16. is “farmed ont” to CLEM CARSON for the summer and prepares to leave the State orphanage Which ins been her home since she was four, ©ally dislikes the farmer and retails *oriss of drudgery and fatiguewracked bodies which the girls have told after a summer at the Carson farm. Before she leaves she begs MISS FOND, sentimental office helper, to tell her what sha knows about her mother. Sue is disappointed to learn that the woman calling herself her mother left her at the orphanage when she was four and never returned to see if her child lived or died. As she leaves, the children who love her dearly rush to the fence and cry for her to tell them good-by. She runs back to the big wire inclosure and kisses the smallest ones, then with tears in her eyes turns and joins Clem at the car. When they drive away, he leans near her with a chuckle and says: “You're quite a kissing-bug, ain’t you? How about a little kiss for your new boss? „ NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER IV SALLY had shrunk as far away from Clem Carson as the seat of the “flivver” permitted, phrases from Mrs. Stone’s embarrassed, vague, terrifying warnings boiling and churning in her mind: “Keep your body pure”—“mustn’t let men take any liberties with you”— "you’re a big girl now, things you ought to know”—“if you’re led astray it will be due to evils in your own nature”— She suddenly loathed herself, her budding, curving young body that she had taken such innocent delight In as she bathed for her journey. She wanted to shrink and shrink and shrink, until she was a little girl again, too young to know “the facts of life,” as Mrs. Stone, blushing and embarrassed, had called the half-truths she had told Sally. She wanted to climb over the door of the car, drop into the hot dust of the road, and run like a dog-chased rabbit back into the safety of the Home. There were no men there—no queer, different male beings who would want to “take liberties”— “My land! Scared of me?” Clem Carson chuckled. “You poor ltitle chicken! Don’t mind me, Sally. I don’t mean no harm, teasing you for a kiss. Land alive! I got a girl of my own, ain’t I? Darned proud of her, too, and I’d cut the heart out any man that tried to take advantage of her. Ain’t got no call to be scared of me, Sally.” She smiled waverlingly, shyness making her lips stiff, but she relaxed a little, though she kept as far away from the man as ever. In spite of her dread of the future and her bitter disappointment over Miss Pond’s disclosures as to her mother, she was finding the trip He Couldn’t Sleep Stomach Hurt So Back Ached for Years.. Finally Found Belief. Perfectly Well Now. Friends of Mr. Henry Remillard, 294 No. Dearborn St., Bradley, 111., were recently surprised by his sudden return to good health. He expb’“is it as follows: “For many years I had chronic Indigestion, and for the last six months I never knew what it was to have a good night’s sleep, my stomach hurt so. I had gas and bilious attacks whenever I tried to eat, and my heart palpitated so I could hardly breathe. My kidneys were weak, and I had terrible headaches and pains in my back. I was constipated, felt tired and worn-out all the time, and was absolutely discouraged. But anew hope came to me the day I started taking Viuna. It promptly gave me the help I needed, and today I can hardly realize that I was ever so sick. My stomach never gives me a moment of trouble, and sound sleep is surely a blessed relief. The gas pains, biliousness, and shortness of breath are all gone. I am rid of the headaches and backache, and feeling splendid in every way. I owe my health to Viuna, and can never hope to praise it enough.”—Advertisement. Viuna acts promptly on sluggish bowels, lazy liver and weak kidney b. It purifies the blood, clears the skin, restores appetite and digestion, and brings new strength and energy to the whole body. Take a bottle on trial. Then If yovrra not glad you tried Viuna, your money will be refunded. $1 at druggists, or mailed postpaid by Iceland Medicine Cos., Indianapolis, Ind. © VIUNA The Wonder Medicine

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to the farm an adventure. In the twelve years of her life in the State Orphans’ Asylum she had never before left the orphanage unaccompanied by droves of other sheep-like, timid girls, and unchaperoned by sharp-voiced, eagleeyed matrons. She felt queer, detached, incomplete, like an arm or a leg dissevered from a giant body; she even had the panicky feeling that, like such a dismembered limb, she would wither and die away from that big body of which she had been a part for so long. But it was pleasant to bump swiftly along the hot, dusty white road, fringed with ordorous, flowering weeds. Houses became less and less frequent; fewer children ran barefoot along the road, scurrying out of the path of the automobile. Occasionally a woman, with a baby sprawling on her hip, appeared in the doorway of a roadside shack and shaded her eyes with her hand as she squinted at the car. As the miles sped away Carson seemed to feel the need of impressing upon her the fact that her summer was not to be one of unalloyed pleasure. He sketched the life of the farm, her own work upon it, as if to prepare her for the worst. “My wife’s got the reputation of being a hard woman,” he told her confidentially. “But she's a good woman, good clean through. She works her own fingers to the bone, and she can’t abide a lazy, trifling girl around the place. You work hard, Sally, and speak nice and re-spectful-like, and you two’ll get on, I warrant.” “Yes. sir,” Sally stammered. “Well, Sally,” he told her at last, “here’s your new home. This lane leads past the orchards—l got 10 acres in fruit trees, all of ’em bearing—and the gardens, then right up to the house. Pretty fine place, if I do say so myself. I got 280 acres in all, quite a sizeable farm for the Middle West. Don’t them orchards look pretty?” Sally came out of her frightened reverie, forced her eyes to focus on the beautiful picture spread out on a giant canvas before her. Then she gave an involuntary exclamation of pleasure. Row after row of fruit trees, evenly spaced and trimmed to perfection, stretched before her on the right. The child in her wanted to spring from the seat of the car, run ecstatically from tree to tree, to snatch sun-ripened fruit. “You have a good fruit crop,” she said primly. “There’s the house.” The farmer pointed to the left. “Six rooms and a garret. My daughter. Pearl, dogged the life out of me until I had electric lights put in, and a fancy bathtub. She even made me get a radio, but it comes in right handy in the evenings, specially in winter. My daughter, t Pearl, can think of more ways for me to spend money than I can to earn it,” he added with a chuckle, so that Sally knew he was proud of Pearl, proud of her urban tastes. The car swept up to the front of the house; Clem Carson’s hand on the horn summoned his women folks. The house, which seemed small to Sally, accustomed to the big buildings of the orphanage, was further dwarfed by the huge red barns that towered at the rear. The house itself was white, not so recently painted as the lordly bams, but it was pleasant and homelike, the sort of house which Sally’s chums at the orphanage had pictured as an ideal home, when they had let their imaginations run away with them. Sally herself, bom with a different picture of home in her mind, had romanced about a house which would have made this one look like servants’ quarters, but now that it RESTFUL EASE AFTER COUGHING “The result of using Foley’s Honey and Tar for a dreadful cough, daytime and at night, was a restful one for me,” says Mrs. Anne Davison, Long Beach, CiJif. The hard cough that follows bronchitis and “flu” is weakening and when it “hangs on” very debilitating. Foley’s Honey and Tar Compound puts a healing, soothing coating on a rough, inflamed throat, and immediately eases the irritation that causes the hard coughs. Dependable. Ask for it.—Advertisement.

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was before her she felt a thrill of pleasure. At least it was a home, not an institution. A woman, big, heavy-bosomed, sternly corseted beneath her snuglyfitting, starched blue chambray house dress, appeared upon the front uorch and stood shading her eyes against the western sun, which revealed the thinness of her iron-gray hair and the deep wrinkles in her tanned face. “Why didn’t you drive around to the back?” she called harshly. “This young-up ain’t company, to be traipsin’ through my front room. Did you bring them rubber rings for my fruit jars?” “You betcha!” Clem Carson refused to be daunted in Sally’s presence. “How’s Pearl, Ma? Cold any better? I brought her some salve for her throat and some candy.” “She’s all right,” Mrs. Carson shouted, as if the car were a hundred yards away. “And why you want to be throwin’ your money aw'ay on patent medicine salves Is more’n I can see! I can make a better salve any day outa kerosene and lard and turpentine. Reckon you didn’t get any car’mels for me! Pearl’s all you think of.” “Got you half a pound of car’mels,” Carson shouted laughingly. “I’ll drive the new girl around back. “Ma’s got a sharp tongue, but she don’t mean no harm,” Carson chuckled, as he swung the car around the house. When It shivered to a stop between the barns and the house, the farmer lifted out a few bundles which had crowded Sally's feet, then threw up the cover of the hatch in the rear of the car, revealing more bundles. Carson was loading her arms with parcels when he saw a miracle wrought on her pale, timid face. “Lord! You look pretty enough to eat!” Clem Carson ejaculated, but he saw then that she was not even aware that he was speaking to her. In one of the few books allowed for Sunday reading in the orphanage—a beautiful, thick book with color-plate Illustrations, its name, “Stories from the Bible,” lettered in Quick Relief From Constipation That is the Joyful cry of thousands since Dr. Edwards produced Olive Tablets, the substitute for calomel. Dr. Edwards, a practicing physician for 20 years and calomel's old-time enemy, discovered the formula for Olive Tablets while treating patients for chronic constipation and torpid livers. Olive Tablets do not contain calomel, just a healing, soothing vegetable laxative mixed with olive oil. No griping is the "keynote” of these little sugar-coated, olive-colored tablets. They cause the bowels and liver to act normally. They never fore® them to unnatural action. If you have a “dark brown mouth"— bad breath—a dull, tired feeling—sick headache torpid liver constipation, you’ll find quick, sure and pleasant results from one or two of Dr. Edwards' Olive Tablets at bedtime. Thousands take them every night to keep right. Try them. 15c, ‘SOc, 60c.— Advertisement.

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glittering gold on a back of heavenly blue—Sally had found and secretly worshiped the portrait of her ideal hero. It was a vividly colored picture of David, forever fixed ir strong, beautiful grace, as he was about to hurl the stone from his slingshot to slay the giant, Goliath. She, had dreamed away many hours of her adolescence and early young girlhood, the big book open on her knee at the portrait of the Biblical hero, and it had not seemed like sacrilege to adopt that sun-drenched, strong-limbered but slender boy as the personification of her hopes for romance. And now he was striding toward her—the very David of “Stories from the Bible.” True, the sheepskin raiment of the picture was exchanged for a blue shirt, open at the throat, and for a pair of cheap, earth-soiled “jeans” trousers; but the boy-man was the same, the same! As he strode lightly, with the ease of an athlete or the lightfootedness of a god, the sun flamed in his curling, golden-brown hair. He was tall, but not so tall as Clem Carson, and there were power and ease and youth in every motion of his beautiful body. “Did you get the plow-share sharpened. Mr. Carson? I’ve been waiting for it, but in the meantime I’ve been tinkering with that little hand cider press. We ought to do a good business with it if we set up a cider stand on the State road, at the foot of the lane.” Joy deepened the sapphire of Sally’s eyes, quivered along the curves of her soft little mouth. For his voce was as she had dreamed it would be—vibrant, clear, strong, with a thrill of music in it. “Sure I got it sharpened, Dave," Carson answered curtly. “You

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oughta get in another good hour with the cultivator before dark. You run along in the back door there, Sally. Mrs. Carson will be needing you to help her with supper.” The change in Carson’s voice startled her, made her wince. Why was he angry with her—and with David, whose gold-flecked hazel eyes were smiling at her, shyly, as if he .were a little ashamed of Carson for not having introduced them? But, oh, his name was David! David! It had to be David. (To Be Continued! Carson’s daughter, Pearl, is not so friendly, as Sally learns in the next chapter.

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