Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 111, Indianapolis, Marion County, 28 September 1928 — Page 28

PAGE 28

THIS HAS HAPPENED _ SYBIL THORNE tells her sweetheart, CRAIG NEWIIALL. of her secret marriage. She tells him also that she is going to have a child. And she tells him somethin* of RICHARD EUBTIS, who won her In five days. She describes * j®. horror of the two weeks she spent with him. And Craig, very gently, when *“2 1?, through, kisses her good-bye. Sybil’s family, almost overwhelmed by her astounding revelation, consider ways and means of silencing the gossips and squelching scandal. MRS. THORNE, fearful of society’s scorn, orders wedding announcements and calls on her psy-cho-analyst for help In dealing with the dreadful problem. Sybil's adored brother, TAD, is very sympathetic and understanding, but his wife, VALERIE, if frankly skeptical. MR. CRANDON, the analyst, reviews the case. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORE CHAPTER XXXI MRS. THORNE leaned back in her Boston rocker. Mr. Crandon flowed on. By and by the maid came with tea. Before they knew it the clock on the mantle was chiming four. "I am sorry,” said Mr. Crandon. 1 “I have another appointment now.” And Mrs. Thorne, gathering her moleskin about her, apologized and prepared to depart. "I feel so much better,” she told • him. “I simply can’t thank you enough for all you do for me. It’s as If a load were lifted from my mind.” And that nig.it she told Valerie "Mr. Crandon thinks it would be a great mistake to send Sybil away • And he says that the child may be a perfectly marvelous thing for her. He is very anxious to analyze Sybil —for her own good, you know, Valerie. But I suppose she wouldn’t hear of such a thing.” “I should say not!” scorned Valerie. “And what’s the sense of analyzing Sybil? The girl never! had a repression nor an inhibition in her life. It’s primitive ego that’s Sib’s trouble—and there’s no sublimating that, Mother Thome. Besides, she’d just laugh at you.” “I suppose so,” agreed Mrs Tome sadly. “Well, we won’t let her go away, anyhow, Valerie. Mr. Crandon advised very definitely against it.” m a a SYBIL, however, had ideas of her own, and it was Tad who persuaded her at last to stay at home. 1 “It seems to me.” he said, “that it would be a cowardly thing ; to hide somewhere. Like a con--1 session of fear—fear of what people ■ are going to say. Hold up your head. Sib. There’s nothing like * facmg the music. And tell them all to go co the devil!” As soon as the announcements Were out, the news began to percolate. “Sybil Thorne’s going to have a baby!” “A baby? My dear, what are you talking about! I just got an announcement of her marriage.” “Well!” “You don’t mean it?” “I certainly do. Next April I heard.” Women telephoned each other at all hours of the day and night. At bridge parties they forgot to play cards. They met one another for luncheon, and their food grew cold while they talked. The most arrogant of them went to see her. With incredulous exclamations and small gifts they invaded her privacy. One day she bundled together five little jackets, six pairs of booties, four baby dresses embroidered in Madeira, and a knit bonnet or two. Tying them around with a blue satin carriage ribbon, she laid them on the blazing logs in the library fireplace. And while they burned she held a tiny band of silk and wool, all shrunk with •‘"■ars, to her lips, and laughed excitedly. “Look!” she cried, when Tad came in and found her crouched over the ashes. “I’ve burned all the tickets of admission my friends bought to come to look at me.” , a it a WINTER dragged on—such a long, long winter. Sybil was very beatiful, but there was no one to see her somber loveliness but her mother, and Tad and Valerie. Her eyes seemed to grow larger, and in their tragic depths there was a sort of Madonna beauty. She moved quietly with a sort of heavy, peasant grace. And she wore a blue smock of soft wool the color of wild flowers in the country. She looked womanly and full of grace. She seldom went out, being extremely conscious of all that was being said. Once Craig came to call, but she sent down word that she was out. After that he left flowers with his card occasionally, but never again asked to see her. n it it THEN, at last, it was over. Spring came. And forsythia waving yellow banners. Crocuses, and gay red tulips, and purple hyacinths. Sybil lay quietly Is a small white bed in a big white hospital. The crisp curtains at her window rustled like a small girl’s pert petticoats. Spring, with the breath of lilacs, stole through the open window—and the little bundle at her side wailed a mournful wail. . . . Such a funny little bundle. Sybil cradled it on her arir, poked timidly at the white cloth i that swaddled it. They fell back, revealing a small red face, with a bit of nose in the middle of it. There were tight little wrinkles that would undoubtedly disclose eyes later, and a noisy, busy mouth that seemed large for the rest of the features. The head was covered with soft black hair. A nurse appeared in the doorway, pleasantly professional. “It’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen,” she said. “And absolutely perfect.” Sybil smiled palely. “He’s just too beautiful! she said, and gazed worshippingly on her son. “Your brother is here,” announced the nurse briskly. “He may come in for just a moment if you’ll promise not to talk.” Tad came on tiptoe, after the fashion of men approaching recent mothers. He held a brown felt hat awkwardly, rolling the brim, and seemed quite distract and embarrassed. His face was flushed, and he applied his handkerchief nervously to his forehead. Sybil laughed weakly as he came to the side of her bed. “Meet the boss, Taddy!” she cried,

.and drew the sheet gently away. I . . . “See urn’s uncle, Sweetykins?” Tad kissed her white forehead, and took her hand. “Well, Sib?” “Oh, Tad!” she whispered. “I’m so happy! Just look at him, Tad!” Then Tad bent and inspected the little bundle, and poked it, and tried to think of something to say. "Great little kiddo,” he said, and wondered if Sybil expected him to say it was good looking. “Isn’t he beautiful, Tad?” “Beautiful!” he echoed solemnly. “He’s got a nice head.” “And ears!” she cried. “Did you ever see such beautiful ears in all your life?” ‘Never,” he assured her gravely. “Beautiful ears.” Then the nurse came. “You’ve stayed long enough for today, Mr. Thorne,” she told him And Tad took his hat gratefully and departed. tt tt TWO weeks after Sybil left the hospital, she wanted a chris - tening party. “I know they’re old-fashioned,” she admitted. “But this is something special.” She bought a christening robe two yards long, and borrowed a silver brazier for a font. Craig was there, and Tad, and Mabel with Jack Moore. It was an evening when Valerio was playing bridge, and Mrs. Thorne had gone to church. Sybil wore a brief little dress of woodsy green, with violets at her waist. And the baby, over his baptismal gown, wore a daisy chain. Mabel held him, and Sybil, dipping her fingers in the font, sprinkled his fuzzy little head. “I baptize thee,” she cried, “Edward Thorne, in commemoration of my father, and to honor his memory. And I renounce for thee, thy father—and claim thee for my own alone. Edward Thome, son of Sybil Thorne. . . an tt THE lighted candles that flanked the brazier flickered, and burst into brighter flame, so that they held the baby’s big-eyed stare.

THE NEW Saint-Sinnor ByjJnneJlustm C 1923 tV ISA SERVICE, INC

When Tony and Crystal ran down to the locker rooms to change from evening dress to bathing suits they were both a little relieved to find six or eight other girls engaged in the same way. “Let’s hurry,” Tony tossed over her shoulder, as she twirled the dial of her locker. “Believe I’ll wear my blue and white suit. The little flannel shorts make me feel so swagger. “Oh, your suit’s lovely, Crys. You’ll look gorgeous in that emerald green. And a green cap with a big yellow sunflower! Be sure to tuck in your marcel. Want some of my waterproof lip rouge? There in my vanity. . . Don’t you wish you knew?” she broke off to call banteringly in answer to a question from one of the other girls. “Isn’t he sweet? “Name of Harry Blaine, but no poaching, girls. And you’re all too late, anyway. He’s already got a crush on Crystal. This vamp steals all my beaux,” she shouted joyously. “You were just kidding about Harry Blaine's liking me. weren't you, Tony?” Crystal panted in a low voice. “Not a bit of it!” Tony denied. “He wanted to know if you’d be likely to give him a date. He’s a lamb, really—clever, too. You don’t need to be afraid to admit to him that you read Cabell and Havelock Ellis. “He’s guilty of the same highbrow offense . . . Hail, gents! On your knees! The bathing queens are coming!” she sang out as they neared the pool, on the rim of which half a dozen young men were sitting, their bare legs dangling in the water. Harry Blaine, minus his spectacles and looking extremely tall and lean in a very short black suit, sprang to his feet and came to meet them, but Dick Talbot remained insolently seated. “Race you for the springboard, Harry!” Tony challenged, and was off, the man loping long-leggedly after her. Crystal, miserably oppressed by the knowledge that she could not swim, and by Dick’s somber ignoring of her, hesitated for a long, agonizing minute, then, fortified by the knowledge that her legs and arms looked as white as marble in the moonlight, she took her seat beside Dick Talbot on the concrete rim of the pool, squealing as her bare feet plunged into the cold water. Dick was not paying the slightest attention to her. His scowling eyes were following Tony’s beautiful, slim body as it reached the springboard bounced and shot into the water. "Come on!” he commanded sharply, seizing Crystal’s hand without looking at her, for his eyes were still upon Tony —a blue-capped Tony, swimming swiftly and expertly across the pool. Crystal had no time to shout to a disappearing Dick, bound for Tony,

Pretzel Stings COLUMBIA, Pa., Sept. 28. The bee sat on the pretzel, held in Miss Marie’s hand. She put the pretzel in her mouth and . ; t stung to beat the band. All this came to pass when Marie Banner held a bunch of flowers in one hand and a thirst-producer in the other. In between bites a honeybee quit his perch on a flower and proceeded to sample the pretzel—without Marie’s knowledge, of course. Shortly thereafter Miss Marie was having considerable difficulty with a swollen tongue.

And he waved his little arms, and smiled his first small smile, and cooed in triumph. Sybil caught him to her and kissed him wildly. “God love him,” she * murmured reverently. Then they passed him around, and each of them, like fairies at a christening, made a wish for him. Luck, and love and gold—until Craig handed him back to Sybil and she cried, like the bad witch in an Irish fairy tale. “Bad cess to your father—and may you never set your beautiful eyes on the face of him!” Then there were cocktails, and a toast to Edward Thorne, second who, shortly, like an inebriated host, grew sleeply, and, nodding a bit, dropped his chin to his chest —and slept. nun EVERYONE agreed it was strange Sybil had never heard from Richard. “It’s as if the earth opened and swallowed him,” declared Valerie incredulously. And to Tad she expressed open disbelief. “I don’t know what Sib takes us for. A bunch of dumb bells, I guess. And of all the big simpletons I ever knew, Craig Newhall is the biggest. Hook, line and sinker, he’s swallowed that story of hers. Tad had come to treat his wife with scant courtesy. "Oh. keep still!” he exclaimed now. “Your chatter gives me a pain.” Whereupon Valerie packed her bags, and left for New Haven, leaving the conventional note on her pillow. “. . .If you’re sick of me, there are lots of people who aren’t. . . . Plenty of fun in New Haven . . . never take me anywhere . . . old stick-in-the-mud. ... It won’t do you any good to come for me . . . stay as long as I please. ...” To Be Continued) (Craig and Tad talk things over—Sybil’s marriage and the chances for a divorce. Craig shows his hand in the next chapter—Valerie stays in New Haven.)

that she could not swim, when the six-feet-deep cold water closed over her head. Afterward she told Tony how amazingly clear her mind was as she sank. “As I went under I thought, ‘l’d rather die any other way than by drowning, because I’d look such a sight—wet and draggled, with the curl all out of my hair.’ “And then I prayed: ‘Please God, let Dick Talbot save me from drowning. Maybe he'll like me better if he saves my life.’ But, oh, Tony, it was awful—that terrible choking and floundering, with no bottom to touch—” The first time Crystal rose to the surface she screamed, a shrill, rasping scream that seemed to tear off the top of her head. And, just as she sank the sceond time, strong hands grasped at her, caught her hands which she hysterically tried to fight off.” (To Be Continued) PINCH HITS IN CAMPAIGN

Vare's Daughter, Father HI, Takes Stump for Hoover. PHILADELPHIA, Sept. 28. A beauty will act as a pinch hitter in

the presidential campaign in the Keystone State. Miss Beatrice Vare, eldest daughter of the Pennsylvnia Senator-elect, will take the stump in behalf of Herbert Hoover in the campaign in Philadelphia. Her decision resulted from her father’s illness, which will

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Miss Vare

prevent him from speaking. CHEST X-RAYS URGED U. S. Recruits Found Suffering From Pulmonary Tuberculosis. By Science Service KANSAS CITY, Mo., Sept 28. The advisability of a general X-ray chest survey of United States Army recruits was discussed by Dr. Charles L. Maxwell of Washington. D. C., at the meeting of the Ameri can Roentgen Ray Society here today. The discussion was based on an analysis of the latest fifty cases of pulmonary tuberculosis admitted to Fitzsimons General Hospital. Denver, in recruits of the United States Army with less than one year’s service at the time diagnoses of tuberculosis were made on them At the same session Dr. Ralph A. Kinsella of St. Louis, outlined a plan for having X-ray pictures made of the chests of all patients admitted to the medical service of hospitals. The cast to hospital and patient, objections to the plan and beneficial results, such as discovering unsuspected cases otf tuberculosis, were discussed by Dr. Kinsella and Dr. L. R. Sante of St. Louis. LION TRAINER ATTACKED Favortism for Cub Arouses Anger of Old-Timers. SYRACUSE, Sept. 28.—Even a lion is particular about who crashes his act, and that is why John Guilfoyle, trainer of Sparks’ circus, was seriously injured here recently. The old-timers apparently didn’t like the way a newcomer conducted himself in their act. In the ensuing battle Guilfoyle, trying to protect Ahe “cub,” was severely bitten and clawed.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUT OUR WAY

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

The war with Spain was brief. It ended in a few The country became months by Spain's giving Cuba her freedom and sell* prosperous. Irrigation ing the Philippines, Porto Rico and another small island projects were launched to the United States-for $20,000,000. Before the en! in the west and thou* of the war with Spain, the United States also came sands of arid acres re* into possession of-the Hawaiian Islands. 9-2* claimed to useful produc* V™# 1 •* nsMijw X*owl*d t . C^j ? i l )a, i tu.2t.jj

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

—By Williams

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SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRAUCHEB

SHiFT. 2b,

By Ahem

—By Mart™

Bv Blosser

By Craftfe

By Small

By CovJ