Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 179, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 December 1928 — Page 8

PAGE 8

OQhe Jtortf of a Modern Moon Goddess r ~Jiy'C*teaTwr R C H I D fek

THIS HAS HAPPENED ASHTORETH ASHE, beautiful stenograpfier. has assumed a. strange role in the office of her multi-millionaire employer. HOLUS HART, old enough to be her father, takes lier unexpectedly into his confidence. He tells her of his fleeting Interest in a girl called MAE DB MARK, a filing clerk at the office, who has cast herself upon his chivalry. Because he is a bit quixotic—and enormously wealthy besides—Hart has given the De Marr girl SIO,OOO To his chagrin she threatens, when he tires of her inanities, to sue him. As he recounts the situation to Ashtoreth, Mae breezes into the office. Sadies recognizes her immediately as an old friend—SADlE MORTON. In the little scene that follows, Sadie admits she has changed her name for professional reasons. Hart is astonished that Ashtoreth—so exquisitely lovely and fastidious—should ever have been intimate with Sadie. Ashtoreth is afraid she has forfeited his dawning interest. There is another man in Ashtoreth’s Iife—MONTY ENGLISH, who sells radios. Ashtoreth’s mother, MAIZIE, approves of Monty. But Ashtoreth, when she learns that he has asked for a transfer to New York, is rather relieved. She lets him kiss her good-by. But her thoughts are with Hollis Hart. She will see him tomorrow and explain away her old friendship with Sadie. She can assure him. also, that Sadie has promised to make no further trouble. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER IX BUT Ashtoreth did not see Hollis Hart the next day. Nor the next. Nor for many weeks. It was rumored that he had gone abroad. Quite alone, and to escape some entangling alliance. There was a story smeared across the front page of a newspaper devoted to scandal: “Boston Millionaire Flees Pretty Stenog.” Hollis Hart’s name was not mentioned in the narrative, but the inference was obvious. A score of papers appeared that morning in the office, and were suureptitiously devoured in the so-called “ladies” Washroom. i “Mae de Marr’s got him scared,” the girls said, and bets were placed that she had accompanied him. ; Ashtoreth knew better than that. But she wondered if his lawyer had jaeen in touch with the girl. If, perhaps, there had been a “settlement,” engineered by Georgie. She might telephone and find out. But no! She would have nothing further to do with the affair. Sadie was dangerous company. And discretion, with Ashtoreth, was a saving grace. a a a Monty English had gone to New York. And life had grown dull and meaningless. Ashtoreth enrolled for a course at Boston university. A course in psychology. It was, she considered, a rather impressive subject. Less practical than short hand. But ever so much smarter. She paid $5 in advance and bought anew fountain pen. Then her interest waned and she decided that street cars made her really ill If only Monty had been around with his little coupe! Ashtoreth wondered how she had ever felt superior to that car. There was, to be sure, an advertisement in large blue letters on the door, exhorting the public to buy radios at Whitman's. But Monty had covered it rather neatly with a piece of leather that snapped on and off. And it was a nice, cozy little car. Infinitely preferable to stuffy old subways. It had. really, been lots of fun last winter. Especially in retrospection. Monty used to take her to a restaurant on Huntington avenue, where the waitresses dressed like French peasants. She and Monty used to go there after class And Ashtoreth felt like a student in the Latin quarter. She missed Monty dreadfully. And he had not even written! Nothing but a wire occasionally, w|th a mailing address and a breezy message. Every Saturday he sent Maizie a box of glace fruits, but Maizie, as she said, was no hand at writing. Sundays, when she sat reading the latest thriller and munching her favorite sweet, she would declare she was entirely ashamed of herself. She speculated constantly upon his transfer and opined that her daughter's coolness had had something to do with it.

THE NEW Saint'-Sinnor ByjJnneJhistin 28 iyVEA. SEWICLIJIC.

“Hello, Pest!” Sandy greeted Tony Tarver, who had found the young aviator just as he was climbing into his plane for a flight. A passenger already was strapped into the back seat, a stout, jolly-faced man whose eyes glinted with pleasure as they rested on Tony’s beautiful face. “Please shut off the motor and listen, Sandy,” Tony begged so urgently that Sandy obeyed, and walked away from the plane with her, without a word to his suddenly indignant passenger. “Jam?” he inquired, his freckled eyes narrowing upon her. “Yes, but not my own this time,” Tony answered. “It’s Crystal Hathaway, Sandy. She’s disappeared and I want you to help find her.” "Gotta take this bird to Chicago,” Sandy answered laconically. “Radio salesman.” “Please let some other pilot take him, Sandy!” Tony implored. “Honestly, Sandy, I need you. You’ve never failed me yet.” - Sandy gave her another long measuring glance, then abruptly loped off to the shed where a number of pilots and mechanics were lounnging about. He was back before even Tony could become impatient, and a few minutes later the plane rose with another pilot and a disgruntled passenger, while Tony and Sandy sped cityward in Tony’s green roadster. Tony rapidly sketched the “scenario” as she called it, of Crystal’s disappearance, while Sandy listened silently, his lean, sunburned face very grave. “Os course Bob Hathaway, her cousin, you know, is going to check up on this Pablo Mendoza, the Mexican boy who worked on Grayson’s dairy farm, which is next to the Jonson dairy farm,” Tony added. “But I don’t blieve he had a thing to do with it.”

MAIZIE was an old-fashioned mother, as she frequently remarked. And not at all In sympathy with the modern trend of things. “What’s the world coming to?” she would ask plaintively. “Companionate marriage and all! Sakes alive—married people don’t live together any more. And the other kind—they’re the ones that ought to be married, not the others. I tell you, Ashtoreth, when a girl gets a chance to get a nice clean young man these days she ought to take him quick. Because there’s plenty will if she won’t.” And then Ashtoreth would put down her book and laugh. “Mother, dear,” she warned her, “if you talk any more about ‘nice clean young men’ I’ll simply have to give you a little lecture. You’re so innocent, darling. Go back to crime, dear, and let me read Dorothy Parker.” “Dorothy Parker!” sniffed Maizie.

“I looked at that book of hers this morning, Ashtoreth. Don’t tell me that’s the way girls talk these days. My word, it gave me the horrors that one about the river. Godless, I call that sort of talk.” Ashtoreth flipped a dozen pages “This one, dear?” she asked. “I think it’s cute.” She read the jingle aloud: “Labor and hoard. Worry and wed, And the biggest reward Is to die in bed. A long time to sweat. A little while to shiver; It’s all you’ll get— Where’s the nearest river?” “Here’s another, Mother: “First you are hot, . Then you are cold. And the best you have got Is the fact you are old.” Ashtoreth shivered. “It's the truth,” she said. But Maizie was bustling about, setting the table with her little green-fringed napkins and the best plates. “What you need, young lady,” she said, “is a good hot cup of tea and some of mother’s nice gingerbread. You work too hard, Ashtoreth, and you don’t go around enough with young folks. “You’re getting real depressed. I’ve been noticing it for the last month. White as a sheet, and peaked-looking. Where’s those iron pills you used to take? Maybe it s a tonic you need. That —and some good wholesome fun.” a a a ASHTORETH closed her little book. “It’s my new make-up, mother,” she said. “It’s interesting to look pale these days. My powder has anew tint, that’s all. Sort of ashy, like Russians in the movies.” Maizie clicked her tongue impatiently. “Tsch! Tsch! Sit down here, young lady, and stop your nonsense,” she ordered. “And remind me tomorrow to write Monty, honey. I don’t know what he’ll think of me!” They went to bed shortly and Maizie heated a hot water bag for her daughter. Ashtoreth had grown unaccountably chilled over their tea, and her mother was worried. When she crept, shivering between her pale pink sheets, Maizie covered her with every puff and blanket in the house, and then threw a coat over her feet. By midnight Ashtoreth was running a temperature and shivering convulsively. When she lay perfectly quiet a pleasant languor possessed her body. But when she moved she ached and throbbed with dull misery. At 7 o’clock Maizie called the doctor. A rotund little man, pleasantly antiseptic, who held Ashtoreth’s wrist in one hand and his watch in the other. And tiptoed presently, quite silently, out of the room. He came again later that day. And when he had gone Maizie put

Sandy scowled, his freckled eyes narrowing. “Can’t tell. Girl’s a fool. Saw her Sunday night.” Tony gasped, “Where, Sandy? Quick!” “Interurban. Got on at the station near Grayson’s. Sat next to me,” Sandy explained, in his telegraphic style of imparting information. “What did she say?” Did she tell you anything? I’ll bet you know where she is right now, Sandy Ross! Sometimes I could shake you ” Sandy grinned. “Didn’t say anything. Crying. Hardly recognized me.” “Oh, Sandy, you’re the limit!” Tony groaned. “Why didn't you make her tell you what was the matter? But of course you wouldn’t I never knew a human being with less curiosity than you’ve got.” “Lots of curiosity—about airplanes,” Sandy grinned. “Guess she had a date with this guy.” “And was trying to make up her mind then never to see him again oi had told him she would not,’ - Tony said slowly. “Oh, Sandy, I can’t believe it! “Poor Crystal’ Maybe she was just crying because she hadn’t had a date with any ‘guy’ and was terribly sorry for herself that the mar. she’d made up didn’t exist.” Then Tony told the whole miserable story. “And Sandy, she beat it yester day, some time in the afternoon, after packing a suitcase of her clothes while Faith and her maid were out. I’m taking you now to Grayson’s. “The foreman, Jones, told Bob over the phone that the men had been talking about an American sweetheart that this Pablo had. I’m praying it was some hired girl in the neighborhood, but—” (To be continued)

little pieces of ice in a handkerchief and gave them to Ashtoreth to hold in her mouth. Finally she dragged the big wing chair from the living room and sat beside Ashtoreth's bed. Time lost all significance and importance. The doctor kept coming. And Maizie tip-tc and in and out. Cracked ice. And orange juice. And hot gruel. a a a ASHTORETH raised herself weakly on one elbow. “Mother!” she cried. Your hair’s dark at the roots!” Maizie, sitting on the side of the bed, poked an invisible hairpin through the sideburn that framed her left ear. “I haven’t touched it up,” she murmured, “since you’ve been sick, honey.” Ashtoreth fell back on her pillows. “How long,” she asked feebly, “have I been ill?” Maizie slipped a firm, plump arm under her daughter’s slight shoulders. “There, dearie,” she murmured, “let mother help you. Just a swallow. Baby Lamb. It’ll do you good.” Obediently Ashtoreth tasted. “Mother?” she insisted.. Maizie wiped her eyes on her apron. “Land sakes!” she said, “but I'm the old softy. Two weeks Monday, Baby.” Two weeks! Blankness and forgetfulness for two weeks! And misery, and dull aching pain. And poor, darling mother, red-eyed, with her hair all streaked! Crying because her lamb was sick. Maizie’s hand lay on the pillow. There were knotted blue veins across the back. Her finger nails were bitten. And the tips of her fingers were red and blunted looking. Mother's pretty hands! Weakly Ashtoreth raised her pudgy fingers to her lips. “Mother,” she whispered. Then Maizie w'as on her knees ■beside the bed. Crying on her outstretched arms. “Oh, Baby—Baby lamb, mother was so w'orried. Her little girl w r as so sick!” Tlie bell in the hall purred softly. “Goodness, there’s the doctor now 7 . We had the bell muffled.” Maizie rubbed her eyes childishly with her fists. “Won’t he think I’m the old cry baby!” She went to the top of the stairs. “Come tight up, doctor. Our little girl’s all better!” “Well, well—so our patient’s out of the w'oods. is she?” He took her wrist again. And slid a thermometer between her lips. Studied it approvingly and shook it with alacrity. “Fine! And now, Mrs. Ashe”— he turned briskly to Mazie—“you’d better be careful or we’ll be having you on our hands.” Maizie shook her head. Her eyes were flooded with tears. And she could not trust her voice. She turned her back and blew her nose violently. Then she left the room. To return in a moment, smiling hazily. “That little surprise w r e’ve been saving, doctor,” she said. There was an enormous paper box in her arms. (To Be Continued.) A marvelous and surprising gift for Astoreth! .A nightgown that passes through a wedding ring—in the next chapter.

NORTHERN MAN WINS INDIANA CORN HONOR O. L. Bryant of Allen County Victor in Five-Acre Contest. Bn Times Special LAFAYETTE. Ind., Dec. 17.—For the first time in many years northern Indiana has been awarded the state corn growing championship, won this year by O. L. Bryant of Yoder, Allen county, with an official yield of 127.45 bushels an acre. The record was made in the FiveAcre Corn Club contest conducted under auspices of the Indiana Com Growers’ Association in co-operation with Purdue university. R. L. Heilman, president of the Indiana Corn Growers’ Association, was the official judge. Bryant competed with 844 other contestants in seventy-three Indiana counties. On the heels of the winner, by less than one-half bushel, was D. K. Williams, Huron, Martin county, with 127.10 bushels. Among the’ ten highest yields in the state Martin county won four places. Third place went to C. I. Witsaman, Lagrange county, on a yield of 125.04 bushels. The next seven were as follows: Walter Jones, Shoals, fourth; Elvis Jones, Shoals, fifth; C. E. Troyer, Lafontainq, sixth; Harry Tedrow, Shoals, seventh; A. F. McCain, Waldron, eighth; George H. Short, Decatur •county, ninth, and Charles Clem, Princeton, tenth. YELLOWAY BUS LINE FORMS NEW TIEUP Interstate Transit Inc. Links Itself With Coir—'ny. Carl S. Warner, president of the Interstate Transit, Inc., and Thomas L. Tallentire, vice-president and general counsel, announced today that they had reached an agreement with W. E. Travis, president of the Yelloway Bus system, which would give Illinois, Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, Michigan, and Pennsylvania passengers direct connections with Yelloway busses for all points north, east, west and south. This tie-up affects passengers from the Atlantic to the Pacific and now gives a complete through service tp interstate transit, it is stated. Cincinnati passengers of Interstate Transit, InC., make direct connection without any enforced stopover or waiting for St. Louis and Chicago. Colonial stages of Interstate Transit, Inc., operate through service between Cincinnati and Pittsburgh, Cincinnati and Detroit, Cincinnati and Louisville. Also I through service between Columbus and Chicago.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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BK.LICIILS Bk BESSfck. SkMOPbIS Bk ttUALUitK

.DEC. 17,1928

—By William*

—By Martiu

Bv Blosser

By Crane

. By Small

By Cowan