Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 197, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 January 1929 — Page 11

JAW 7. 1929.

00/ie &ons of a Modern Moon Goddess r ~QlfC i teo,nor C 1~~1 I D

CHAPTER XXVl—(Continued) ‘Daddy woke up. and laughed. Then, bounding above her. he drew away, horrified . . . For mother's eyes were staring, the dreadful unseeing eyes of the somnambulist. And her voice was strangely pitched and foreign. "She woke with a dreadful start. And closed her eyes, and passed her hand across them. "Daddy took her in Lis arms, and tried to laugh and comfort her. She seemed so frightened. But she drew' away from him, and began to " ‘They were coming across the desert.’ she said. ‘Great caravans, like .M.ips iu moonlight. Elephants and apes and peacocks. ’Broideries, rugs and precious stones. And men . . . marching . . . marching . . .’ “Well, naturally, father was scared to death. You see if you knew mother you simply couldn't imagine her talking like that, like a book, I mean. Then she began raving about reincarnation. "She said she had lived before, in Egypt. And that she had worshiped the sun. and the moon. And lived in a temple, and danced before strange gods. "Os course daddy told her it was all a dream —the funniest kind of a nightmare. But mother kept on insisting the strangest things. She said she had been a princess. And the prince of Thrace wooed her in her marble palace. “While she was talking like that I woke up and began to cry. And daddy took me out of my crib and heated my bottle, and brought me in to mother. "And all of a sudden, she said, ‘I shall call her Ashtoreth.' "Well, father said you could have knocked him over with a feather, because—though he knew a lot about antiquity—he had never imagined that mother knew anything about it. "‘Ashtoreth!’ he cried. ‘What for?’ “ ‘For the moon.’ said mother, as calmly as anything. "Then she took me in her arms and began to sing. I've forgotten the exact words. I suppose daddyhad forgotten them himself. But they vent something like this—” Ashtoreth put her head back, and crooned softly: “ ‘Goddess. Thou givest LoveCrimson cloaked, radiant Love, Passion’s Mate, Golden LoveLove—Love without end.’ ’’ Hollis Hart sat up straight in his long tropical chair. "Ashtoreth!” he cried. "Stop it, dear! You make my blood run cold!” CHAPTER XXVII THEY sat in silence. And the only sound that broke the stillness of the night w'as the mournful cooing of a lonely little mountain dove. Ashtoreth shivered. And, presently —for no reason at all—she began, very quietly, to cry. "Why. Ashtoreth—my dear—what is the matter, child?” Hollis was all tender compassion. "You’re not frightened, dear?” "I—l—l don't know,” she sobbed. "It—i—it's n—othing.” "You're nervous.” he said. "It’s that plaintive dove, sobbing in the dark. Ithink there’s not a sadder sound in the world.” "I—l guess I'm I’m lonely myself,” she whispered. "Sometimes I miss datldy so much!” "Os course you do,” he agreed gently. "And no wonder you’re upset, little girl.” ‘lt's not just daddy either,” she said. “It's Mona—and everything.” "I know.” he murmured. “And that little dove up on the mountain was simply the last straw.” "You're the understandingest man.” she told him. and pressed his fingers gratefully. "I won’t be silly any more. Don't you hate girls who cn T ?” "Well, usually,” he admitted, “they are rather sloppy. But I think you're adorable, whatever you do.” Ashtoreth powdered her nose vigorously. "I'm glad it’s dark.” she confessed. *‘My nose always gets red when I cry—and there’s nothing adorable

THE NEW . Saint-Sinner RyjJnneJlustin

When Bob Hathaway returned from a nerve-wracking and fruitless day. spent largely with the police and in visiting hospitals in the forlorn hope of finding his cousn in one of them—alive, at least—his living room seemed to be turned into bedlam. Newspapers—copies of all the extras, as well as the regular editions of "The Press" and "The Sun.” were scattered about in wildest confusion. and from the center of the room Tony Tarver, with a paper crumpled in her hand, was berating Cherry, who was glaring at her with glinting golden eyes from the couch, w here she sat beside Alaneardsley. •—and why you had to let the reporters swarm all over our house, getting Peg upset and taking pictures of it, is more than I can see! She wasn't kidnaped there! • And giving them a complete though ridiculously erroneous story of my life and Sandy's life, just because we were trying to help! We aren’t front page gluttons—” * "Whoa. Tony!" Bob called from the doorway. "What’s all the shooting for? I suppose Cherry has had her hands full with reporters, all right." Tony whirled upon him. "Well, she's got herself as as the rest of us in a line mess!" s'le cried. ‘ Faith fainted again when she saw •this tyiper. and I don't blame her TL'-y-'ve ;;ot a picture c-f Cherry and Mr. Beardsley and here's what u says undei it: ‘Cherry Lane Wiley Jonson. to give the little beautyabove her full quota of names, shared the all-night vigil of the Hathaway family Tuesday night, w hile $5,900 ransom money lay unclaimed in a garbage can before

1 about that, I assure you. I wish I i was one of those women who weep artistically. It must be a great as- | set.” "I should imagine,” he laughed, “it would take a lot of home work.” "Yes, I suppose so,” she sighed, "and I’ve no technique at all. Movie actresses practice in front of their mirrors. Maybe that would help. "It must be wonderful to just have your eyes well up with tears that never spill. And your mouth sort of quiver, and your throat palpitate. And your note never gets red at all. Nor j-our face homely.” B B HOLLIS HART smiled in the darkness. “An artistic triumph,” he conceded. "But not much of a fling, emotionally speaking. I suppose, though, that when a girl’s weeping for effect it's not an emotional debauch at all. Part of the act, as it were. "And the whole blooming show put- on for the benefit of some hard-hearted male. After all, a woman hasn't any weapon like tears. Now dry yours, like a good child, and I'll sing you a song.” He picked up his guitar, and strumming softly, sang, “Don’t cry, little girl, don’t cry. They have broken your heart, I know ” “Stop it!” she threatened, “or I’ll cry some more.” “Well, talk to me then,” he commanded. "Tell me some more about your mother. Does she still dream about Cleopatra and Dido?” But Ashtoreth had told all she proposed telling about Maizie. “No. I don’t think so,” she said. "Anyhow, she doesn’t talk about it, if she does.” “Does she still believe in reincarnation?” he asked. “Well, not exactly. That is—honestly. I hardly know. She never mentions it, you see. But she still i resists that Ashtoreth is a lucky name and that I’m to be blessed with love and happiness. Gifts, I suppose, of Lady Moon.” “That’s a pretty notion,” he approved. "And I think Ashtoreth i‘J a beautiful name, you know.” “I’ve always hated it myself until lately,” she confessed. “It made me fearfully self-conscious when I was little. I always had to explain it to everybody. Peope were forever asking what it meant. Eventually. of course, it was shortened to Ash. And that’s such a grubby name. I simply abominate it.” "It doesn’t suit you,” he said, and fell silent for a while. After a few minutes he spoke again. “I know a lovely name for you. Shall I tell you?” "A name you made up yourself?'* shfe cried. "Just for me?” “It’s something you reminded me of,” he said, “the first time’l saw you. It’s a name that wouldn’t fit another girl in all the world quite as it fits you.” “What is it?” she demanded excitedly. "Orchid,” he told her softly. “You know, my dear, there isn’t a flower in all the world quite so much like you. So chaste. And remote. Such a cool, exquisite thing.” * B HE spoke very quietly. And raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. Ashtoreth drew her feet up and tucked them under her. She loved the way he made her feel. So little, and childish. And as if. by all rights, she should be protected and adored. She wondered if he was making love to her. “It’s a beautiful .name,” she said. “I love it.” “Then I shall call you Orchid,” he told her. “It will be my little tender name for you. My small, secret name. Shall you like that?” “Oh. that would be sweet!” she exclaimed. .. . She was beginning to feel like a heroine in a rather exciting novel. A poor little stenographer! Alone with a millionaire on a lonely island! In a little bit of a house on top of the world! With nobody around (nobody, that is. but ten or twelve servants—and Ashtoreth supposed they didn’t count). “My goodness!” she cried, “I just happened to think. I'm thousands of miles from home—and I haven’t even a toothbrush! Or a nightgown.”

the Hathaways Serenity boulevard home. Among the other anxious watchers was Alan Beardsley, capitalist of New York and Chicago, who has been kept in Stanton several weeks on business. Mr. Beardsley’s visit to Stanton has been made very pleasant by his friendship for beautiful little M;rs. Jonson. The two have been seen constantly together." “All right, Tony,” Bob interrupted wearily. “I suppose it can’t be helped. I'm going to Faith. Any news since I phoned last?” "There’s a dectective here answering all calls and relaying the tips from newspaper readers to headquarters,” Cherry answered sullenly. "I can’t help it if that sensational Sun rakes up scandal about me to • pad out Crystal’s story.” "Nils back yet?” Bob inquired from the doorway. "He's on his way here now. He phoned from the farm. He drove through, you know, anc hadn’t seen the papers. Rhoda told him where I was and he called me,” Cherry explained. her face going very pale as she realized what effect the insinuating story in The Sun might have upon her husband. "Dinner time,” Sandy called, lounging across the room to take Tony’s arm. “Mom's expecting us. No reporters. Beefsteak and onions.” Tony grinned at him through her tears. "I do qdore you. Sandy! . . . Beefsteak and onions! ... I wonder what poor Crys is eating? . . . All right, Sandy! I won’t start that again. Good-by—everybody. We’ll telephone for news.” (To Be Continued)

“Oh, I guess we can fix you up,” he consoled her. ‘‘l’ve a few toilet things. And you can take reefs in my orchid satin pajamas.” SHE wondered if she ought to propose going to bed pretty soon. Or if the suggestion should come from Mr. Hart. And where her room was. And if his was near it. And if the servants slept in the house. Or if, perhaps, they’d be there quite alone. It was all thoroughly exciting she thought, and quite like the movies. . . . "I told Hester to put some orchids in your room,” he '-as saying. "There was a great cluster of them on the mango tree. Pure white. Tomorrow I shall pick Svme for you, and pin them in those coils you wear—one behind each ear. I like the way you wear your hair, Orchid.” "Mother thought I was awfivly foolish not to bob it,” she told 1 ■ . "But I’ve always known I wasn’t a beb-haired model.” "No,” he said. “You’re not.” “Do you like short hair?’ she asked. "Oh, it's all right on some people,” he answered carelessly. "Don’t you ever cut yours, though. Orchid.” “No, I won’t,” she promised. "And don’t you ever rouge your cheeks, either,” he counseled. “No,” she said. “Make-up’s not my type,” He looked at her curiously. "What a wise young person she is!” he bantered. “Daddy hated cosmetics,” she told him. “He didn't want me even to use powder. You see—” she hesitated. “Yes?” he prompted. "Well, mother’s an awfully different type.” she floundered. “And mumsie uses sort of a lot of rouge and stuff. And father got so he simply hated it. "You see, Hollis, my father was a man with very decided opinions. I absolutely worshiped him, and I supose he influenced me a great deal.” "But your mother?” he asked. "Didn’t he ever ask her to refrain from cosmetics?” “Oh, yes,” admitted Ashtoreth, “but mother thought he was sort of an old fogey, and she didn’t pay any attention. She loved him like everything. Holly. She’d simply have died for him. But—well, mother and father weren’t a bit alike. They never really understood each other, I think.” BUM THEY were silent again for a little. And Ashtoreth wondered if Hollis was revolving her mother in his mind. What sort of a picture had she conveyed now of Maizie? And what would he think of her if he should ever meet her? Painted and garish, in her purple velvet suit. Why couldn’t she tell him the truth? She might say something like this: "Hollis,” she might say, “I’ve been an absolute beast about my mother. I’ve lied and I’ve pretended. And I’ve been ashamed of her. And I'm not worthy to shine her blessed shoes! “She’s the dearest, kindest woman that ever lived. She’s gone out working by the day. She’s shined stoves and scrubbed floors. “And spent her hard-earned money to buy me silk stockings and patent leather pumps. She’s worked her fingers to the bone for me. She’s good and loyal, and adorable, above all women. “And I’m ashamed of her because she makes the most awful grammatical mistake. And dyes her hair. And acts exactly like the genuine, simple soul she is. "She’s the salt of the earth—that’s what my mother is. And I’m a stupid, ignorant little soul—pretending to all manner of things. My mother is a grand woman. And I’m nothing but a make-believe lady.” * b tt HOLLIS broke in upon her thoughts. "Would you tell me about yoOr father?” he asked. "Or had you rather not talk about him, Orchid?” "Oh, I love to talk about him!” she cried. “I told you daddy was a man in a mil Lon. Hollis. Shall I tell you a secret that I’ve neve.* told another soul in this world?” “Why, if you would care to,” he answered. “I should be profoundly touched, I am sure.” “Well, father left a letter for me,” she told him. “A most remarkable sort of a letter. I haven’t shown it to anybody—not even mother. In fact,” she added honestly, “mother is probably the last person on earth I ever would show it to. "I carried it around with me until it was almost worn out. It’s in a little box now r , in the bottom of my hat box, all tied up with tissue paper and ribbons. But I think I know it almost by heart.” Ashtoreth paused, near tears again. “I won’t tell you the beginning,” she said, and here was a little catch in her voice. "It was so awfully personal, and not meant for anybody at all but me. The rest, though, wasn’t so private. "It was sort of daddy’s idea about ‘what a young girl should know.’ ” "You’re sure,” interrupted Hollis, "that you won't be sorry if you tell me?” “Oh, no,” she said. "I'd really like to. Sometimes, you know, it’s blessed to be able to talk about things. Particularly secrets.” “T know.” he said. "Then tell nje, Orchid. And I shall appreciate your confidence with all my heart.” "You're not sleepy?” she asked. “Sleepy?” he cried. "When I can talk with you? I should say not! I think, though, since we are going to sit up so long, I will speak to Hester, if you will excuse me for a moment.” He went, she noticed, across the garden and down a little ravine. "Hester!” he called. "Hester!” The servants then did not sleep in the house. She was to be all alone with Hollis Hart! . . . What would Maizie say? And Monty? And Sadie? Ashtoreth put her arms about her shoulders and hugged herself. Funny—the feeling it gave a. girl, sleeping in the same house with a man. Just she and he. (To Be Continued.) ij

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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MON N POP

■ ■- imi '' ’

THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

South Polar exploration finally narrowed into a race j between Captain Roald Amundsen and Captain Robert Scott. Scott started from London in the Terra Nova in June, 1910. Meanwhile Captain Amundsen, who has set out for the North Pole, learned Peary had reached it and turned about to attempt to discover the South Pole instead. iv*> WEA, Thumb S|weil faf'inim of Hk faHMura of Ts- Boo* of K—.faOgo. *

By Ahem

Scott met difficulties from the outset. Several of his ponies were seized by huge grampuses. The continued bad.^

OUT OUR WAY

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On the other hand Fortune smiled on Amundsen. He relied on dogs for his haulage power and had 52 of them when Restarted.

SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRAUCHEB

After-wintering at the Bay of Whald, at tha edge of the Great Ice Barrier, Amundsen started his dash toward the Pc?e Oct. 20,1911. Scott wintered on Ross Island and started his expedition Jan. 4,1912. One by one Scott’s ponies were used up. When he had gono half the distance to the Pole, the men had to haul the sledges themselves. (To Be Continued) V Skottfeo and Syrrapaoa. Copy,**". IS7. T>o Cfoftw SociHy. -I S

PAGE 11

—Bv Williams

—By Martin

T'" P'o-crp P

i/ t me

By Bmail

By Cowan