Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 83, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 August 1928 — Page 8

PAGE 8

CHAPTER 111 (Continued) “I’ve my pumps all bought. High heels, studded with brilliants. . . . The new gowns are dreadfully like bathing suits, but they’re perfectly adorable. . . . There was a wedding at the Embassy here the other day and the bride carried a swagger stick right up to the altar. Really, it was awfully swanky. . . . I’m getting so thrilled, just planning things.” Mrs. Thorne began to be a little scandalized. She liked old-fashioned weddings with the bride a “vision in filmy white,” and her veil “caught with orange blossoms.” “Valerie’ll have you in silk stockings and satin panties, Tad,” Sybil prophtJed cheerfully. “That girl’s goyig to* have a knockout wedding. No squirming old bridegroom’s gumming up her precious plans.” He grinned sheepishly. “Anything she says goes.” “You said it!” Sybil’s slangy vehemence was portentous. That winter the Thornes became closer to one another than they had been since before the war. For some years Mr. Thorne had been bothered with attacks to which he referred lightly as “my dizzy spells,” and laid to indigestion. Finally they persuaded him to see a famous specialist, who told him dreadful truths. And, —hen he was through, called a taxi and sent the wretched man home with a little bottle of digitalis and horrible conviction of approaching death.

CHAPTER IV BEFORE his visit to the great diagnostician, Mr. Thorne, after his dizzy spells, invariably observed that he was not as young as he used to be. “Nothing to worry about,” he insisted and consoled Mrs. Thorne, hovering about with pills and hot water bags. “Just a bit of indiscreion, Mother. Cabbage or pigs’ knuckles—or something.” Baked beans, roast pork, red meats, pastries—the poor man grew wretchedly abstemious. And still the dizzy spells persisted, more frightening as they became constantly recurrent. From the beginning he refused to give his heart even passing consideration, blaming pains and vertigo alike on something he might have eaten.. Then, like an octopus, reaching horrid arms, the knowledge of his condition closed about him, tearing the peace of his soul to shreds. The great doctor, appallingly ignorant of the terror of a robust man in the face of facts, had literally frightened him out of his wits. Golf, poker, a good cigar, a square meal and the Follies—when a man stares Death in its empty sockets he has no joy in them. From all life’s pleasant things he turned away and sat with a shawl over his knees, staring with mild blue eyes from the window of his bedroom. While in the dining room below the family gathered in gloomy conference. “We should never have sent him to Dr. Fosdick,” groaned Sybil. “What he didn’t know wouldn’t have hurt him the way this dreadful knowledge is hurting.” “He's never been the same since,” acknowledged Mrs. Thorne tearfully. The attacks came more frequently. Mr. Thorne gave up work and became a semi-invalid. He drew up a will and talked of what he wished them to do after his death. They choked back tears as they listened to him. “You’d better give up the house,” he , told Sybil and her mother. “It will be a lonesome place, when Tad gets married, and both of us are gone.” . “Oh, Father!” implored Sybil. “Edward, stop talking like that!” commanded Mrs. Tnorne. And then, with a great air of cheery encouragement, “You’ll be burying us all yet.” tt tt tt THEIR family talks were always mournful. “We must have the library papered this spring,” Mrs. Thorne might remark. And Mr. Thorne, sighing deeply, would opine that he’d be dead and in his grave before that was done. Or Tad would be making plans for his marriage. “We’ll name our first child for you, Dad,” he proposed, “and then you’ll have to start a handsome bank account for him.” Tears came to his father’s eyes. “I’ll never live to see a grandchild of mine,” he predicted darkly. As spring approached, Sybil gaily anticipated a summer at Wianno. “The crocuses will be coming up soon, Daddy,” she cried, “and all the darling tulips, and those lovely purple hyacinths we put in last fall. I think we could be moving down in a few weeks now.” Her father reached for her hand and stroked it lovingly. '“Why, sure,” he approved. “That would be fine.” His loving cheerfulness hurt Sybil more than all his dire predictions, for she knew that in his heart he felt he would never see their House by the sea af.ain. Nor liye to touch a crocus, nor smell *ho nurnle hr^mnth. xie wanted ner with him constantly. And Tad, too, and their mother. Sybil gave up work to humor him and Tad hurried home each night. “Don’t leave me, dear,” he begged his daughter. “I don’t want to be alone ” He clung to her more than he did to his wife. She had always been his favorite. tt tt a “T’M NOT afraid to die," he told X her. “Don't ever think. Svbp that your father was afraid to die. But I want- fearfully to live. ,1 want to see you happily married. And my grandchildren growing up around me. “I’ve worked hard ail my life. Things are just getting so that I could have a good time. Trips, you

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know —your mother, you and I. Europe, perhaps. I’ve always wanted to sea Paris.” “Couldn’t afford it when I was a young man. And now I suonose I’ve waited too long. Life’s like that, Sybil. We wait too long for the good things—and then it is too late. “Don’t think I haven’t been happy,” he assured her, trying desperately to atone for the tears he brought to her eyes. “You’ve been a good daughter to me, Sybil. And Tad’s a fine boy. Your mother and I have been happier than most. "We’ve had our little ups and downs together—but I guess mother always understood. She’s a good woman, Sybil. You’ll be good to her when I’m gone? It’s going to be hard for your mother—” “Oh, daddy, daddy!” He patted her shoulder consolingly. “All right, dear. It’s all right. Don’t you go feeling bad.” Please don’t talk that way,” she begged. “You just break my heart.” CRAIG NEWHALL phoned one afternoon. “See here, Sybil, you’ve got to think of yourself, you know. You’re sticking around the house altogether too much. Let me drive you out in the country somewhere, only an hour or two. I’ll have you back for dinner." “Oh, I can’t Craig, really. Thank you jiist the same. But I don’t want to leave Daddy.” Her father heard her at the telephone. “Go ahead,” he urged. “You ought to get out more. I’m a regular old bear, keeping you cooped up here all the time. Run along and have a good time.” “You owe it to yourself, dear,” interposed her mother mildly. “Os all the selfish, stupid expressions,” Sybil thought to herself, “that one takes the prize. More than any fiends on earth. I hate the people who tell the world ’they owe it to themselves.’ ” Sybil and her mother grated on each other constantly. Mrs. Thorne resented her husband’s preference for Sybil’s companionship. Sybil chafed under her mother’s irritating little admonitions: “Edward, your medicine, dear. . . . Edward, don’t do that! . . . My goodness, haven’t you finished your milk yet? . . . Now then, take your soup while it’s nice and hot. . . .” She knew habitual nagging was the curse of her father’s life. “Do go, Sybil,” her mother was saying. "Perhaps your father would like to be alone with me, for a little change.” “All right, Craig,” she agreed, “I’ll go.” He was there in half an hour in a shiny new sport car, with trick accessories, and a tuneful horn. “Now there’s a nice young man,” approved Mrs. Thorne. “Do you suppose he’ll ever ask you to marry him, Sybil?” MRS. THORNE worked on the assumption that girls merely waited to be asked. She could see no reason for not jumping at any good opportunity to catch a “nice young man.” It would have been such a comfort to her to have Sybil “all nicely married and settled down.”

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Faith cast a reflective eye at Crystal after Bob left. “If only Tony could be her maid every morning and send her forth right,” she mused. For Crystal, left alone, simply could not go forth in the simplicity which Tony prescribed for her and which, when bolstered by Tony’s enthusiasm, she herself could endure. She had added this morning a nosegay of orange and yellow nasturtiums to the sweetly simple cop-per-brown georgette coat, and a string of amber beads broke the chic line of the beige vest in the little sports dress. To be sure, her face was not as mascaroed and rouged and powdered as usual, but she had gone far beyond Tony’s prescribed compromise of rouge pad and lipstick, looking somewhat blurred, like an artist’s half-erased, sketchy idea of a pretty girl. Faith sighed, but said nothing. Poor Crystal—so much to learn and unlearn before she found her gait for life! Now she was fishing for items concerning George Pruitt. • “About how old is he, Faith? I suppose he’s awfully popular and goes with just any girl in Tony Tarver’s set, doesn’t he?” Faith wondered why Crystal’s obvious intention to go after George should startle her. Was she one of these dog-in-the-manger women who didn’t especially want certain men for themselves, but wanted to be the only woman in certain men’s hearts. “Heavenly days!” exclaimed Crystal. “Nine-fifteen! I can never get dsyiicwn by 3:30 and I did jo want to be on time all this first week!” But Faith was frowning at a yellow cream pool on her jade green breakfast cloth and her voice was a bit sharp as, swabbing the pool with a napkin, she said: “By the way, Crystal, you will have to learn efficiency as Mr. Pruitt’s secretary. “You could come to breakfast just as soon as Bob leaves, eat and not talk, get the 9:15 car and not have to rush and get excited like this.” Crystal clutched the amber beads; her expression of fright and hurt pride not at all a pose this time. “Oh, Faith, you don’t want me to eat with you and Bob!” She turned, grabbed the little suede hat and her bag and gloves and ran down the front steps, across the street without looking to the right or left, dashing, blind with tears, for the street car she saw coming. There was the screaming of brakes matched by a scream from Crystal’s own throat, then the auto was upon her.

Mr. Thorne smiled sympathetically over his wife’s head, but Sybil read in his eyes an echo to her mother’s question. “Good-by, daddy dear. I’ll be home in no time at all. And I’m going to find some nice asparagus for you and strawberries, too.” “They’ll be awfully expensive,” remonstrated Mrs. Thorne. "Asparagus is just out of sight. And hot-house fruit! We never knew about such things when I was young.” Sybil kissed her father on his bald spot. “The best is none too good for Mr. Edward A. Thorne,” she assured them. “Let’s go out Commonwealth Ave. and through Wellesley, up to the back roads,” she suggested, as Craig tucked her in beside him. “I’d like to feel a bit of springtime.” Craig was very quiet. “It’s good to see you again, Sybil,” he told her gravely. “I’ve missed you a lot.” They drove in silence to the reservoir. And there he took her hand under the robe that covered her knees. • It’s going to be lonesome,” he suggested, “when Tad gets marride.” Sybil knew he meant it would be lonesome when her father died. “Yes,” she said. tt a tt PRESENTLY he began again. "My dear, I'm not much on making pretty speeches. But you know I’m crazy about you, Sybil. We get along pretty well, don’t we? I understand you better than any other man ever would. What do you say Sybil?” “Craig Newhall!” she gasped. "Is that a proposal?” “Nothing else but,” he assured her. “Well, that’s awfully sweet of you, Craigie, but we’d never hit it off.” “Yes, we would,” he protested. "Better than most. We know each other pretty darn well. People make a botch of marriage because they don't kno weach other, usually. Incompatibility is back of all the failures. “Back of infidelity, and everything else. You like me all right, don't you, Sybil?” “You know I do. But, Craig, you old materialist, it isn’t reason enough to marry you simply because I like you. I suppose I even love you a little, now that you mention it. Though I'd never thought of it before. mony. You want to find yourself a "But I’m not cut out for matrigirl like Valerie West. One of those nice little things with a lot of illusions.” “Hey!” he protested. “What’s the big idea—wishing something like that on me? Empty-headed little clothes horse! Don’t you think I know what I want. Brains go further than peroxide these days.” “Valerie doesn’t use peroxide. She’s a natural blond.” “Natural! Persuaded you mean. Anyhow I don’t like ’em flossy. Painted little dolls—the world’s full of them. Your kind wear better. Sybil, I’m crazy about you. What do you say, dear?” (To Be Continued)

She remembered clutching the amber beads, remembered pitying herself as she remembered there was no mother nor father to care whether she lived or died, anyway, and in that very minute felt strong arms about her and looked up 'into George Pruitt's face. His face was like plaster of paris. Deep lines about his eyes and nostrils. He quivered as he picked up the girl in brown whose face was to the pavement. With the marvelous adaptability of youth, Crystal, realizing that she was neither killed nor maimed, surrendered to anew emotion. George Pruitt’s car had knocked her down. George Pruitt, the one possible man for her to date with, was bending over her with a face of anguish. But Crystal’s hopes were shattered by the words she heard—“Oh, I thought it was Faith! She always wears brown and takes her walk about this time!” To Be Continued EDWARD RAUB TO SPEAK Councilman Will Address Luncheon Meeting of Rotary Club. President Edward B. Raub of the city council will speak and all councilmen will be guests at the luncheon of the Rotary club Tuesday at the Claypool. War Dead May Be Moved By Times Special PORTLAND, Ind., Aug. 27. Bodies of nine men, veterans of the War of 1812 and the Civil War, will probably be moved from an abandoned cemetery near a factory here, through efforts of the Daughters of Union Veterans. Two of the War of 1912 soldiers are Michael and Joseph Shanks, brothers of Gen. J. P. C. Shanks of Portland, who served in the Civil War. The old cemetery is said to be in bad condition. _ Minota Oats Yield High By United Press VALPARAISO, Ind., Aug. 27. High yielding qualities of Minota oats has been proven in Porter county. William Alexander, Union township, reports a yield of 83.4 bushels per acre. This variety of oats was introduced in Porter coun-. ty last year by County Agent Stewart Learning. At that time only about 150 acres of the variety were grown. Now the acreage is 4,500. Smith, 201; Hoover, 121 By Times Special DECATUR, Ind., Aug. 27.—A poll taken here among 322 men and women, shows 201 prefer A1 Smith for President, and 121 want Herbert Hoover. j-

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OUT OUR WAY

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OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRALCHER

AUG. 27, 192tf

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