Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 156, Indianapolis, Marion County, 20 November 1928 — Page 8

PAGE 8

A SUITOR KkASTOO MANY p rMHDRED BARBOUK

LILA 7.AIHAM becomes the bride of HERBERT WARE, but the picture, of an old sweetheart, CAPTAIN JACK FARQUAHAR, lurks in her mind. She confides her plight to her friend, DOROTHY CAINE, an artist. While in France during the war, Lila had promised Jack that she would become his bride when his regiment came back from the front. Jack is reported dead, and later his insurance Is forwarded to Lila, who gives it to disabled veterans. Herbert learns of the gift, and Lila ■ays the money was her uncle’s and was given in memory of his son. Several other complications arise over the gift, but Herbert’s mind is put at rest. Lila one day sees GILROY HOLMES, a war-time buddy of Jack, and she faints. She learns that Jack is not dead and is to return to New Y’ork that day. She meets him, and he invites her to luncheon. During the meal, jack asks Lila to marry him. While be is explaining his miraculous escape from death and the circumstances of his return, Lila is laying her plans. She doesn’t dare tell him she’s married, so she says she can’t marry him now, because, to save her father from financial ruin, she has become engaged to one of his business associates. Various crises, after this, keep Lila’s nerves on edge, but she manages to keep Jack in ignorance of her marriage and Herbert in ignorance of Jack’s existence. CHAPTER XXX The Destiny of an Orchid WITH Siddons holding out the florist’s box containing Jack Farquahar’s gift, Lila sat petrified, waiting for him to say the fatal words: “This was forwarded from Mr. Latham’s house, Madame, where it was delivered by mistake.” But Siddons got only as far as “This ” when Dorothy, swiftly intiutive, leaped to her feet and 6natched the box from his hand. “Ah, at last!” she turned to Lila. “Tli at stupid florist did keep his word, after all.” She untied the golden guaze, lifted the lid, and. exhibited a 6uperb corsage of bronze orchids and lilies-of-the valley. “Aren’t they exquisite?” She held them up for Herbert to see. “I’ve been waiting half an hour for them. Now I can go. You see,” she explained to Herbert, "they’re meant for a very special gown that I’m wearing to the Darlington ball tonight. By the way, you two are going, aren't you?” “I had intended to,” said Herbert, looking at the flowers suspiciously. “There seems to be a card in that box. Do you send yourself cards, as well as flow’ers?” Dorothy took the envelop from the box and slipped it inside her glove. “It’s only the bill,” she countered coolly. “Good-by, people. See you around ten o’clock, I dare say.” When she had gone, Herbert remarked to Lila. *7T'HE more I see of Dorothy JL Caine, the less I like her. I believe she sent those flow’ers to herself to give the impression that they were the gift of a man.” “Heaps of men are trying to court Dot,” responded Lila, “but she doesn’t seem to give a snap of her fingers about any of them.” They went up-stairs in somewhat strained silence. Herbert was decidedly resentful, because Lila had refused to tell him where she and Dorothy had spent the afternoon. In her car, driving up-town, Dorothy was conscious of the subtle scent of the flowers beside her on the seat. Lilies-of-the-valley always made her think of moonlight nights and the cool brick paths of old-fash-ioned gardens; of flowers sleeping in the dew; of the song of a nightingale; and the silhouette of a silhouette of a masculine figure waiting at a gate. It was a foolish thought, she felt. The figure waiting at a gate was only a dream-lover, a phantom. And yet, though men came and went, she waited for that dreamlover. It was her heart’s tryst, a secret, exquisite tryst, and it had no place

It was that comforting, comradely kiss of Harry Blaine’s which gave Crystal Hathaway the courage to face her problem when she was at last, in the privacy of her room. It was with a curiously uplifted feeling that she told herself: “One man wanted to kiss me tonight and didn’t; another wanted to—and did. That wouldn’t be a bad record even for Tony Tarver.” And in spite of her distress over the rude, precipitate conclusion of the affair, Crystal felt again the beauty and sweetness of that scene between herself and Pablo Mendoza. She heard again the soft, insinuating strains of “La Paloma,” as Pablo had played it on his guitar, his dark eyes glowing with passionate tenderness. No one else had ever serenaded her, no one else had ever looked at her like that—as if she were infinitely precious and fragile and desirable. “Thank you for that, Pablo,” she murmured. And then for the first time Crystal considered Pablo Mendoza, not as he affected her, but as he would be affected by the crude tragedy of 'what had occurred. What was he thinking, feeling now? This girl, who had been so selfishly considering only her own problem, yearned now to the boy. Her arms ached to wrap him about, with tenderness, her throat wet with tears that she would have shed in pity for him if he had been there. She wanted to mumur to him, consolingly, tenderly, “Don’t mind. Pablo! You’re not just a Mexican boy working with his hands on a farm, taking orders from a beastly, bellowing foreman. You’re my Pablo—created in my imagination before I ever saw you. “What do I care if you can hardly

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in the life of a capable, independent young woman with her pretty sophistications and her whimsical sense of humor. When she reached home, she took from the box the envelop Herbert had noticed. It was addressed to Miss Lila Latham. The handwriting she knew. She had seen it many times in the early days of the w’ar, when Jack Farquahar’s love-leters had come to her studio, addressed to Lila. It was a firm, strong hand. She felt that she would recognize it anywhere. a tt tt THE sealed envelope she placed with the little bundle of letters she was keeping for Lila. Dorothy’s fingers lingered over them for a moment, and she sighed. It seemed to her a pity that the love of such a man as Farquahar should be wasted. More than wasted; even the cause of anxiety, distress, and anguish. When she was ready for the ball, she hesitated a moment and then remembered that she had told Herbert that the flowers w r ere for this special occasion. Reluctantly, she pinned them to the low-cut corsage of her gold lace gown. The orchids were very lovely, unusual in color, of a deep bronze. Against her white flesh they were gleaming and burnished. She caught up her wrap, flung it carelessly around her shoulders, and hurried down to her car. In the lou’er corridor she came face to face with a lean, dark young man, who seemed to be studying the names on the lettei’boxes. She stopped dead, with a little, involuntary gasp. She stood revealed under the brilliant lights of the entrance, a gleaming, lovely, appealing vision. Her gaze met the stranger’s for a full moment. Then she slipped past him and fairly ran out to her car. Once in it she couldn’t resist a swift, backward glance. The dark young man was still standing in the doorway of the building. He was. staring after her. CHAPTER XXXI. MAY VARNEY was in the dressing room at the Darlington home when Dorothy arrived. “You look like the Queen of Sheba,” May remarked, eyeing the gold lace gown enviously. “And there’s no doubt that you’ve got a millionaire beau.” “Why?” laughed Dorothy. May pointed to the orchids. “That’s the new variety that Sherman is exploiting. They say he’s imported them from South Africa and that he’s asking outrageous prices.” “Really?” murmured Dorothy. “Who is he?” demanded May. “Who is who?” “The new suitor?” “I haven’t the slightest idea,” laughed Doorthy, and left Mrs. Varney in a vast state of bewilderment. Lila hurried up to her, as she entered the ballroom, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Dot, you’re a wonder! You got me off in fine shape. Herbert hasn’t asked me another question about where we spent the afternoon. He’s very formal and dignified, but he’ll get over that, after a while.” “I’m sorry to steal your flowers,” Dorothy whispered. “May’s just been telling me that they are very rare and expensive.” Lila sighed. “Poor Jack! Isn’t that just like him! jHe’s giving what money he has to reimburse the government for that insurance, and now he buys rare orchids!” “I think it’s rather sporting,” murmured Dorothy. “By the way,

speak English, much less, read and write it? ... What does anything matter, Pablo mio, but that you love me—and I love you?” Oh, it was true enough, she told herself miserably, tears which had gathered fro Pablo falling for her own woes. She did love him, and he was “beneath” her socially, ana—and she could never see him again. All evening, since she had fled from the bit of enchanted woods, she had been trying to hold back the moment of realization. Harry Blaine had helped, by making the whole Pablo Mendoza episode seem unreal, because he was so very wholesome and ordinary. But she had spoken the words to herself at last: she must never see Pablo Mendoza again. She wept silently and heartbrokenly for a long time—wept for both herself and Pablo, then she rose, switched on her light, and quietly went about the ceremony oi collecting the absurd, dear presents he had given her. A bit of unpolished turquoise. He had told her how it was mined. A tiny handful of opals. ... He had laughed at her, delightedly, for thinking they were valuable. A little red-brown pottery jug, which his mother had made. A hand-woven basket from Mexico, made by peons, Pablo said. s . Crystal’s fingers traced its crude pattern of red and green roses wit>. a tender finger. . . . Some dried flowers he had picked in the Grayson meadows for her. He had quoted a Spanish poem as ne gave them to her, and she had memorized it: “El clavel que tu me diste El diode la Oscencion, • No sue clavel, sino clavo, Que clavo mi corazon!” “ ‘The carnation which you gave me, the day of the Ascension, was not a carnation, but a nail, which nailed by heart!”’ Crystal translated softly, tears falling upon the dried wild flowers. “It did ‘nail my heart!’ Oh, it did! Pablo mio! Pablo querido!” (To Be Continued)

there was a note with the flowers.” “Didn’t I see it?” Lila made a wry grimance. “I put it away with your letters in my studio. You can get it tomorrow.” Lila shook her head. “Like fun I can! Herbert laid down the law on the way up here in the car. He said I was to make no more luncheon engagements this week. I am to lunch with him every single day.” “What about Captain Farquahar?” “'T'HAT’S just the point. Dot, JL will you be an angel and telephone him for me tomorrow. Tell him that I can’t meet him for lunch?” “But why can’t you do it yourself? He’d like it better.” “I don’t dare. He’d ask too many questions that I couldn’t answer on the spur of the moment. All you have to say is that Miss Latham is avoidably detained and will not be able to keep her appointment. He’s at the Sheridan hotel.” Dorothy promised. Just then someone claimed her for a dance. She didn’t see Lila for some time. At supper she sat beside May Varney. Herbert joined them and at once demanded jealously: “Where Is Lila?” “Probably flirting desperately with some good-looking man,” responded Mary Varney flippantly. Another woman, who enjoyed teasing Herbert, said: “The last time I saw her she was with that fascinating Spaniard, and you can’t blame her for lingering. He’s simply divine!” She cast up her eyes dramatically and sighed. “Poof!” scoffed May. “I have no use for foreigners. I detest the whole tribe!” Herbert, who had been looking around worriedly, -of half a mind to go look for Lila, turned slowly to stare at May Varney. “You dislike foreigners?” May became suddenly conscious of a French heel squarely on her toe. “Ouch!” she said, and glanced about her indignantly. Her eyes met Dorothy’s pleading ones. She had a sudden swift remembrance of a certain afternoon when Dorothy had taken tea with her and had made a confession, over which they had both laughed. She remembered saying: “So I’m cast hereafter for the role of the broken-hearted victim of a foreign romance? Well, I adore novelty!” Herbert had repeated his question slowly: “You really dislike foreigners, Mrs. Varney?” (Copyright. 1927, Metropolitan Newspaper Service, New York) (To Be Continued.)

How Bright Is Your Baby?

The well, comfortable baby is a happy baby. The cross baby is apt to be sick or uncomfortable. Do you know what emotions the tiny baby shows and how he shows his emotions? Check each emotion that you have noticed in your baby and then look at the key to see how the average baby expresses that particular emotion. 1— Rage (hold baby's hands tightly to his side, to arouse this emotion). 2 Fear (when baby is just falling asleep, jerk his blanket. Make a loud noise near him). 3 Love (petting baby arouses his love in return). 4 Desire. 5 Affection. 6 Disgust. 7 Pleasure. 8 — Embarrassment. 9 Loneliness. 10— Guilty. 11— Shyness.

Key to Questions

1— Hampering baby’s movements makes him angry. He shows his anger by criny and by moving with his arms and legs as though he would strike, frowning and getting red in the face. The new-born baby shows anger. 2 Baby shows fear my catching his breath, clutching with his hands. Fear is shown by the new-born baby. 3 Baby smiles, stops crying and attempts to gurgle. Love appears very early in life. 4 The week-old baby expresses desire by opening his eyes and sticking out his lips. At 5 months he expresses desire by outstretched arms. 5At 4 months baby can distinguish his mother from other people and recognizes her when she comes into the room. 6 -The baby of 5 months shows disgust by letting food he dislikes run or fall out of his mouth, or he pushes it out with his tongue. 7 Baby has a good many way: of showing pleasure: (a.) His eyes grow brighter. • (b.) He turns up the corners of his mouth. (c.) He coos with contentment. (and.) He smiles. (e.) He laughs aloud. (f.) He shouts and babbles with delight.® 8— If you mock his attempts to make sounds he hangs his head and refuses to go on, when he is only 8 months old. A little later he cries when you laugh at him. 9 Baby likes to have other people near him. He often cries if he is left alone in a room, but is comforted when nurse or mother returns. 10— When he is 214 he shows his feeling of guilt by the expression in his eyes. 11— At 214 he expresses shyness by downcast eyes. Next we will talk about baby’s discovery of his mouth, his hands, and his feet. Copyright, 1928, Science Service, Inc.)

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THifl BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

1 * 11 ui.l-.-J" IM| wl n After the armistice had been signed, Mrs. Wilson felt strongly that the president should attend the Peace Conference and her influence helped him to decide to go. Mrs. Wilson took along a colored maid she had had in her personal service for years. She carefully instructed the maid to reply, “Yes, your majesty" and to use other terms of foreign etiquqt. 11 -10 l B r Through Special Permission ol th ftiblishtf of Th Book ot Knowledge’, Copyright, 1923-2tf.

By Ahern

In England the> queen asked to see all the servants and members of the president’s party. Queen Mary greeted each personally. ... ■111... ■1.,...-

OUT OUR WAY

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— ‘ ■■■- ’ —^ When the queen came to Mrs, Wilson's servant, it is related, and asked if her quarters were pleasant, the servant replied, “You bet they is, queen.”

SKETCHES BK BESSET. SYNOPSIS BY BKAtCHEb

After the party had returned to America, Wilson went on a trip through the west to create sympathy for his League of Nations idea. During the trip his health broke down and he had to return to Washington. Back home he suffered a stroke and for weeks, lay between life and death, with no use of any part of his body. (To Be Continued)

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