Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 72, Indianapolis, Marion County, 14 August 1928 — Page 8

PAGE 8

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THIS HAS HAPPENED BERTIE LOU and BOD BUYER are happily married, until LILA LOREE plots to separate them. She had once refused to marry Rod because he was poor. She meets and marries CYRUS LOREE and persuades him to aid Rod in business while she gains Bertie Lou’s confidence by showering her with favors. , , Gradually she arouses Rod s Interest stnd faith in her while she plants seeds of doubt about his wife. When Bertie Xou discovers that they see each other secretly, she is heartbroken and flirts with young MARCO PALMER to retaliate. Rod will not commit himself to Lila, although he and Bertie Lou have drifted far apart. Lila fakes a jewel robbery in which it appears that Rod is the thief, and then insists on keeping it secret to save Hits reputation. He discover?*, her treachery, and she says she did it to gain his love. .. , .. . He repudiates her disloyalty to her husband, and she reminds him that his wife is out with Marco. Rod drives to the Palmer estate where he sees Marco and Bertie Lou in lounging robes and departs without learning that they were merely coming upstairs from the swimming pool. ... Rod leaves Bertie Lou with no explanation, and she thinks that Lila has won him. Both women try to find him without success. Bertie Lou obtains a position and waits for Rod to get a divorce. The suspense and dreariness ot her lot cause her to seek forgetfulness in Marco’s gay crowd. She has a nervoues breakdown, and while convalescing decides to buy ■* “dream home with tne money Rod haJ* sent her when he left. Marco fall* in love with Bertie Lou snd is devoted through all her trouble. He begs her to marry him, and she ts tempted by his wealth, but tells him that she still loves Rod. l NOW GO ON WITH THE STORX r CHAPTER XLI MARCO said good night to Bertie . Lou with great reluctance. He thought she was really ill and jieeded the attention of a physician. r But Bertie Lou would not consent to have him take her to the doctor. Who had attended her during her nervous breakdown, as he wished jto do. “Let’s just stop at the hospital a feunute,’* Marco pleaded when they got back to the city. “No, no. I’m all right," Bertie Lou protested. Marco did not believe her. She looked so tortured, With a wild, feverish light in her (eyes, and a heartbreaking way of pressing her finger-tips to her lips, as though to keep back a cry of languish. “You shouldn’t have come out today,’’ Marco told her reproachfully. “Buying that house was too much for you, Bertie Lou. Os course it’s your own affair, but that sort of sentimental indulgence is worse for you than the kind of things you say you won’t do any Jnore.” Marco spoke harshly. It annoyed him that Bertie Lou wouldn’t take him into her confidence about the house. He could guess that it meant something close to her heart. And he was jealous of her interests. In reality he was gratified at the change in her, the way she was turning her back on the drinking, jazzing, youth-squadering life they had been leading. It would give him a strong factor in favor of his marriage to her when the time came to talk to his father about it. But he wished that his reason for being pleased was the same as her reason for changing. Wished it had been for him that she’d settled down to live quietly and not for some secret cause. A cause that had to do with another man, no doubt. He suspected, of course, that the man was her husband. The suspicion prodded him to harshness. Then, too, he dreaded leaving Bertie Lou without someone to look after her during the night. He remembered, with a pang of remorse, that it had been he who had made it possible for her to follow the health-wrecking road that leads from pleasure haunt to pleasure haunt. He thought of that day on the train when he'd met her for the first time. She had been aloof, unwilling to promise a future meeting. He’d never expected to hear from her again. It was easy to guess now, in the face of his greater knowledge of her, that she had been driven by unhappiness to seek his companionship. She could, he offered in his own defense, have found another willing courier on her voyage to a hospital cot. But—and this was what troubled his conscience—there had been times along the v/ay when her spirit had lagged and her feet had grown weary—times when he knew she was tired of the brittle hollowness of their contact with, a world of incandescent radiance, mad music, and “don’t care,” people. Close to her laughter had been honest tears. Her dancing feet had wanted to stop. And Marco had known it. He admitted, to himself, that he had known it. And now it troubled him that he had urged her on, piqued her when he could, done everything, in fact, that he could think of to keep her going. He had always liked her, from the start of their friendship. He hadn’t wanted her to drop out. “You’re in no condition to be left alone,” he burst forth crossly, seeking, in a solicitude for her, to put down his troblesome self searching. Bertie Lou’s nerves were beginning to cover her body with the feel of a fine network of searing wires. She knew what that meant. The hospital cot again. Somehow she must hang on, must keep calm. Marco had been right. The emotional crisis she had undergone in buying the house of Rod’s dreams had upset her. No, it was Marco himself, with his unending desire to marry her. She knew better. It wasn’t Marco. It was her memory. Cameo clear. Dear God, couldn’t she forget the past! That hot night in her room. So brave she’d been—to marry Lila Marsh’s castoff suitor. heat might have come from a crucible wherein bifrned her chance for happiness. And then she had only to think a little further to feel Rod’s kisses upon her hair, her eyes, her lips. Sweet, the hour of youth. . . . Marco was saying something. She would not listen. Why try not to relieve her brief joy when It was impossible to forget it? Marco would be talking sense, and there was no sense in the world. She could not ignore him, though; she must not. If she sank so far into the past as to forget him entirely she might lose consciousness. She felt as it she could ' sink Into a stupor from sheer in-

ability to let go her poignant remembrance. Marco would rush her to the hospital. If she gained her bed ... by morning she would be better. It had never been quite so bad before —this looking backward. Induced by imagination, of course. She had pictured, too unenduringly, herself with Rod in the little house at Moonflelds, But it must be dispelld, this mood of black regrets for a dead past. She must not be silly. Perhaps ... if she had word of Rod . . . tomorrow she would do what she had resisted doing many times . . . she would telephone to Cyrus Loree. She could disguise her voice ... oh, she would not have him speaking of it to Lila . . . Lila would carry it to Rod. Cyrus might tell her what Rod was doing, if she pretended to be a friend from Wayville. She knew Rod was not working for Cyrus. Her mother had told her that much. But no one who would have told her more about him seemed to know. Molly, she was sure, could have given her some Information had she wished. Bertie Lou had suffered over Molly’s attitude; it indicated that Rod had made unkind remarks about her. That was hard to believe,' though. Rod had never been contemptible. Hadn’t he though? Since he’d fallen under Lila’s influence. Still, Molly never had liked her. It did not need an effort on Rod’s part to make her more unfriendly. Bertie Lou was buoyed up by the promise to herself to try to get word of rod. It was a comfort she had stoically denied herself, but now that she had made up her mind to it, she felt better, in spite of the bruise she knew it would be to her pride to risk having Lila or Rod guess that the call had come from her. She turned to Marco and he glanced up from his steering long enough to see that she had grown calmer. There had been a silence of many minutes since his last remark to her. “I’m out of it now,” she said quietly. “What the devil was the matter with you?” he replied peevishly. She had given him a good scare. "A touch of homesickness,” she told him. Marco did not like what she said because he did not believe it, but he was too much in love with her to express his doubt. He knew he had no right to his jealousy. Bertie Lou had never encouraged him to think she loved him. When he left her at the door of her rooming house he gazed very earnestly into her eyes. Bertue Lou put out a hand to say good-night. Marco took it and did not let go. “I wish you would let me take care of you,” he said. “This is so dumb,

Tony swerved her car suddenly into a farmer’s lane and killed her engine. Above them the leaves of a maple tree whispered soothingly and cast dappled patterns of light and sh/tde upon the faces of the man and the girl. Sunday peace was thick and sweet and lazy. “I’m happy now,” Tony cried suddenly, stretching out her arms as if to fill them full of peace and beauty. “I’d like to sit here with you for hours, Sandy, just soaking up peace and June sunshine, and all the wise words you think to me but don’t say. “You know something, Sandy?— I don’t feel kin to any one else in the world but you and Pat. And I disapprove violently of Pat sometimes because he’s so much like me. I never disapprove of you, Sandy.” “No?” Sandy drawled, his long, lean face softened, relaxed, peaceful; his green-and-bronze-freckled eyes very fond. “Oh, I know I quarrel with you sometimes, but I never really dislike or disapprove anything you are. do or say. But . . . “Oh, Sandy, I love my dad so terribly, because he’s really remarkable, and I love Peg in a different. way, but almost as much . . . But Sandy, I love ’em only as Pat and Peg, not as Mr. and Mrs. Tarver—husband and wife, If you get what I mean.” “Yeah,” Sandy nodded. “I knew you’d understand,” Tony cried gratefully, near to tears. “You know, Sandy, when you’re a kid, you take it for granted that grown people are married, and you don’t even wonder if they like being married to each other. “Then when a girl gets old enough to think about getting married herself she realizes for the time that her parents are actually a ‘married couple.’ Know what I mean? “Right there under her eyes is a marriage problem, or there isn’t any problem at all, because her parents are happy. Gosh! How every girl would like to start out thinking about getting married with the grand break of knowing that her own parents made a go of it! Bu s Peg and Pat—” Tony floundered. “Used to get along,” Sandy contributed. “That’s just it!” Tony cried. “They did use to get along, before Pat invented that automobile contraption and made what looked to the Tarvers of Myrtle Street like a sinful lot of money. “Peg was just like all the other, wives and mothers along Myrtle Street—your mother, Mrs. Lane, that’s dead now, Mrs. Allen—all the others. She had to work hard to make Pat’s wages cover our expenses and Pat had to work so hard to get those wages that there wasn’t any marriage problem there that I could see. “I remember Pat was always flattering her—and meaning it, too—-

Bertie Lou; your living in a place like this.” “Maybe it is,” Bertie Lou returned with a wistful smile, “but just now, just this minute, Marco, I’m glad I didn’t listen to you.” She was thinking of the call she was going to make the next day—the telephone call to Loree. There was no hope of a reconciliation with Rod—she wasn’t sure that she could love the man Lila had made of him as she had loved him when he was her ideal—but still she found a faint measure of happiness in being unchanged herself; in being the same Bertie Lou that Rod had married, A miracle might hapfpen—she did not expect it to, but it might. Cyrus could tell her something fine of Rod. It might be a mistake about him and Lila. It might be. And then she would be so indescribably, so deliriously, happly that she had not said yes to Marco. She laughed at herself as she undressed for bed, laughed and called herself a little fool. It was a sad sound, her laughter. And partly on account of Marco. She hated to treat him shabbily, keep'him hanging on until she made up her mind. Her mind was made up! Why had she thought such a thing? Bertie Lou lay long awake, asking herself questions. And she found that under all her surface denials, and even her joy in being free to dream impossible dreams of a reunion with Rod, there was a feeling ,of satisfaction in her heart over knowing that Marco stood by to take her out of her hall bedroom whenever she was ready to leave it. It made her feel like a cheat. To be subconsciously leaning upon his love, while professing her determination not to accept it, was deceitful, she realized. She broke the next engagement she had with Marco. She told him over the telephone that she would not see him again. Marco worked up a little huff over it. A huff that lasted several days, during which time he made no attempt to see her, Bertie Lou went back to work. She was in a dual state of firmness and softness. She w’ould be firm about Marco, but she was e::tremely tender over the house she was building. It was to be the temple of a ghostly love. Rod was dead. Her Roc!, that is. The other? She would forget him. Cyrus had spoken very apruptly to her when she had telephoned and asked about Rod. She had given a fictitious name and said she was from Rod's home. And Cyrus had let her understand that he had no interest in Rod whatsoever. His tone was so caustic, and short, that Bertie Lou had quickly hung up. So Cyrus had come to hate Rod at, last! (To Be Continued)

about what a grand little manager she was, and what a swell cook—and things like that. She complained sometimes of having to work too hard, but gosh, Sandy, she enjoyed it! “Probably there was a lot of hus-band-and-wife trouble that we kids didn’t hear or see, but—l don’t believe it. Peg and Pat were too darned busy to have ‘marriage problems', but now—- “ Now,” drawled Sandy, “Pat's cutting up highjinks and Peg’s trailing ’way behind, and there’s the devil to pay. Yeah?” Tony’s blue-diamond eyes widened with awe as if she had heard an oracle speak. (To Be Continued) Dial Twisters Daylight Savin* Time Meters Given in Parentheses WFBM (275) INDIANAPOLIS (Indianapolis Power & Light Cos.) —Correct time; afternoon musicale. 4:oo—ltems of interest from Indian- ► „„ Times Want Ads. s:oo—Correct time. s:ls—“What’s Happening,’’ Indianapolis Times. 6:3O—A chapter a day from the New Testament. i 3:so—“Care of the Hair and Ecalp,’’ Stanley E. Horrall, Hair-A-Gain studios. s:ss—Baseball scores right off the bat. 6:oo—Correct time; Ed Resener with WFBM dinner ensemble. 6:so—Business research, Indiana University.. 7 on —I’.ttricia Elliott on studio organ. 7:36—Marott Hotel trio, courtesy KruseConneli Company. B:oo—Arthur Beriauit, drama period. 3:3o—Servel serenaders. 9:oo—Ninety minutes with Capt. Clark and his “leather pushers” at the Ft. Harrison Punch Bowl. 10:30— "The Columnist.” WKBF (252) INDIANAPOLIS (Hoosier Athletic Club) s:oo—Late news bulletins and sports. 6:oo—Dinner concert. 7:ls—Moke and Fannie. 7:4s—Garden Court Harmonists. 9:28—Apollo Theater. 11:30—Circle Theater organ. Best Daylight Features —Wednesday— WFBM (275) INDIANAPOLIS (Indianapolis Power & Light Cos.) Noon—Correct time, Julius C. Walker & Son; Lester Huff on studio organ. P. M. 12:30—Livestock market, Indianapolis and Kansas City; weather report, WKBF (252) INDIANAPOLIS * . „ (Hoosier Athletio Club) A. M. 10:00—Recipe exchange. 10:15—Brunswick Panatrope. 10:25—Interesting bits of history, courtsy of Indianapolis Public Library. 10:30—WKBF shopping service. 11:30—Livestock and grain market; weather and shippers’ forecast. HELD FOR U. S. AGENTS Arrest Alleged Fugitive From Arkansas Jail. Roland Bush, 24, of 2022 Sugar Grove Ave., was arrested Monday night at his home by Detectives McCarty and Miller and is held for department of justice officials who say he escaped jail at Texarkana, Ark., after conviction on a Federal charge of vehicle taking.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUT OUR WAY

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

ru. LAME TO SN& I ! ’TTUvift fALL GQIM<& To 3C&OAKO gEWOTUtIft 'v PLY AOmE INSTEAD EXERCISE AT 7U£ ( ' 1 OP SAIL ON A BOWSAME T/AAE X AMSUT V,? , ITLL OMIV TARE / X AS vwEU-TELL THEM OS TWO DAYS X \\ TAATYJERE SOiMS \ 7JAAT YUAN' y \\ /§- .A A A-i . ‘

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM'N POP

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THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE .

1 —— undraped. How to drape the stage. This miniature stage can be made in any size you wish. The general plans are offered here. The frame is made of a box, the floor being raised from the ground about two inches. The top is made of strips of wood stretching from side to side, with a space of • n inch between strips. Through these openings in the strips we let the scenery and actors upon the stage. 8-14 B r BtA. Tly-eutKAp.tijl tl* m* Boot IWI-JO ■

—By Williams

Row of footlights. Tin reflector. Curtain roller. The curtairr can be placed on a roller and .raised or lowered by a string wound around the roller. Footlights and reflector also are pictured above. . ,

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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■ fboN'T t6,lk MvSTakE? Banks Don’t SO LOUD‘ //WSTm.S - FOOTED! IT'S JUST /J VNUS SHOULDN'T I BE- I A NWSTAKE )/ OM.X> TWLT CHECK-DiDH'UI? SO UJUY J THAT KIEA.N'o TULT HE WAS A SHOULD // BIE OIL MILLIONAIRE FOA A WEEK you / lon mv money- io \ that’s his GET ) /SURPRISE*. KOM.HE -SWORE Wt‘o EXCITED J / GET EVEN WHEN ISLANDED THE "?/ UOOt? IN UIS fACE.VNEIL.IFn IS.IIIE l GOT A TEIN SURPRISES \N MN SACt v yof T6ICKS CoS Iw^BofjUS

Two scenes like these can be painted on sheets of cardboard the same size as the stage. Cloth • or canvas on rollers also could be used. 8-14 ** " in.'i .u.n J.

SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRAUCHER

Varieties of side-scenes such as trees, buildings or rooms night be cut from books, pasted on cardboard and colored. That is one way to make the actors in the play, too. By hanging our actors from wires we can *make them move about the stage. We can make up our own plays from stories we have read or plots we , imagine ourselves. (Next: A Wall Cabinet) ; I*4 TK

AUG’. 14, 1928

—By Ahem

—By Martin

—By Blosseg

—By CranQ

—By Smali

—By Taylor