Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 81, Indianapolis, Marion County, 14 August 1929 — Page 11

lAvn. 11. mu.

OUT OUR WAY

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77 JHIN IMG^JALEMT i Ry ELLAAIOR EARLY O 1929. RyAEAjervice inx.

CHAPTER XXlX—'Continued) •That would be fun, I dess,” declared the little girl politely. “Will j up take my daddy and Essie? And j my dollies, and the big bunny?” Oh, well have a lovely party!” promised Molly. “And we ll invite : everybody—daddy and Elsie, and all; the dollies, and the Easter bunny.' But I guess maybe we'd better wait j until we get all moved in, don't; you?” "What's al moved in'?” demanded Rita. “Such a child!” moaned Miss j Smith. “She's a regular caution,; Miss Burnham. Always askin' ques- j tions. Little pitchers, as my mother j us*d to say. have big ears. The: things that child picks up! My word, it isn't decent.” Molly was of the same opinion. r l he sooner she could get, little Rita away from the unwholesome at- j niospherc of her father's flat, the better it would be. After dinner. Molly put the child j to bed. And, shortly afterward, protesting that she was very tired, asked Bob to phone for a taxi, to 1 take her to the Copley. She would stay there until she found an apart- ! ment. When the cab came, Bob took her ; to the door. He was very quiet, j and Molly was glad that he made no further excuses for the presence j of Elsie. Before riir had driven to the end ot the street, she missed her bag. and remembered that she had left it on the divan. She had the driver turn about, and, when they reached the apartment, asked him to ring Suite 6. and ask if he might go in for Miss Burnham's bag. A moment afterward, she thought it might be more gracious if she ran in for a moment herself . . . People like Miss Smith were so apt to take offense at the most trivial things. She ran up the stairs, and reached the door as it closed on her driver. She could hear Elsie's shill voice. “Have a drink. Big Boy? Your frosty fare froze this little girl to her marrow.” “Sh. Elsie.” remonstrated Bob . . . But Molly had turned and fled. In the taxi she dropped her burning face in her hands, and tears dripped through her fingers. But whether they were for Rita, or for her outraged pride, she did not know. Red was waiting in the lobby of the Copley when she reached there. T reckoned you'd come here,” he said. “And T had such darn good news. I wanted to spill it in person, Durbin's been trying to get you on the phone all evening. He was so insistent about it that I called him back an hour ago. Told him I was seeing you, and asked if I could take a message. “Well?” She lifted her tired face quest ioningly. "It’s like I said, dear. He's .absolutely sold on it. Says it has Delphinc beaten ten days. You can write your own contract, from all I gathered. And he wants to put it on pronto.” Molly was very tired. She felt not at all the way a successful playwright. receiving good news, is supposed to feel. That's fine.” she sighed. “You're awfully*good. Red.” She laid her hand affectionately, on his arm. “I've never asked, because you seemed so reticent about it. I’ve wondered sometimes if you thought me unsympathetic. But I've often wanted to ask you . . “You mean about my mother?” he interrupted. “She's just the same dear—always just the same. She'll never be any different, till she dies.” “She didn't hear anything about i that silly rumor?” “Not a thing, dear. Don't worry 1 your little head about that.” an n T> ED took her hands in his. 1\ “Sec here, old thing, you're all done up. What's the matter? Did Rita's death hit you so fearfully hard, dear?” “Oh. it's not just that,” she told him wearily. “It's . . everything.” i “Can't you snap uot of it? Any girl who can sell plays like the restj of us eat a meal! Good gosh. Mol- ! ly, what's eating you? You ought to be the happiest kid in the whole damn country.” "T know. Red Tsn't it tunny?” "Yeah—it's a scream. A perfect j £cream. I'm apt to bust my sides, 1

I laughing. "Weil, run along," she advised. “You don't want me weeping on j your shoulder, do you? It is funny, you know. I never felt so much like crying in my life.” The next day Molly went apartment hunting. It would be better, she decided, to avoid Bob until she had a home of her own. When everything was ready for little Rita she would ftt him know. She found a place in the Fenway, in anew building. It was very grand, and very expensive. On the merits of the baby's nursery, she sfcncd her lease. It was a delft blue and buttercup nursery, with Mother Goose paper on the walls, and built-in, modernistic furniture, cut on queer, straight lines, like geometrical figures. It faced the cast, and its broad front was all of glass—a special kind. “To admit the ultra-violet rays of the sun,” explained the glib agent. "There's nothing like ultra-violet rays for infants. They're curing tuberculosis with them these days.” ■ffhat settled it. Maybe it was a lie. Maybe she was stupid and gullible. Any how, nothing was too good for Rita's child. Molly's own bedroom was lovely. Luxurious and feminine. The carpet was soft and green, like moss, j The taffeta cushions of her chaiseI lounge were orchid. And there were orchid organdy curtains that were the daintiest things in the world, with the morning sun stream- | ing through them. The drawing room was modern and Molly hated it. “But I shan't be entertaining.” I she reflected. “And the nursery is perfect! I adore my bedroom. And the bath is simply too good to be j true!” She felt, as she signed the lease, j very much like a movie actress, because movie actresses, she thought, all had swanky bedrooms. That was an idea she had from reading the soap advertisements. She wondered if her mother would consider a green porcelain I tub immoral. Probably. But her father would think it was great. She must ask him to come and visit j her. He could sleep on that funny : cubist sofa in the. drawing room. She decided to telephone Bob his office, to ask him to bring litxlr. Rita to her. She could not force herself to spend another evening with that Smith woman. But Bob was not in when she called. And. before she could get in touch with him. she had encountered Miss Smith in the lobby of the hotel. “Hello.” said a strange voice. “I was looking for you.” For a moment Molly did not recognize her. ! “It's me—Elsie. You're not trying" to high hat me. are you? Because I've something pretty important to say to you. Miss Burnham." CHAPTER XXX MISS SMITH was wearing an ensemble of orchid chiffon, embellished with flowing scarfs and a sash of purple. Her hat was violet, and so were her satin pumps. She flitted, self-consciously, an enormous square of purple georgette, pressing it against her mouth and her nose. And she toyed nervously with a long string of mauve-colored pearl beads. She looked rather pretty In a conspicuous, flashy fashion. Like a show r girl dolled up for a date. Molly, with propriety, had acquired distinction in clothes. She was wearing now a dark tailleur of silk tweed, with a little tri-cornered hat. and kid walking shoes. They stood side by side, in the lobby of the Copley, and looked like models illustrating “What the WellDressed Girl Will and Will Not Wear.” Miss Smith flounced her georgette handkerchief. “I've something important to say to you,” she repeated. “Where shall we go?” Molly looked up and down Peacock Alley. The seats were all taken. “Would you like to go up to my room?" she invited cordially. Or shall we have tea down here?" Miss Smith softened. “It's all the same by me." “Then let's go to my room." Molly led the way to the elevator. 1 She had a disagreeable conviction

—By Williams

that the girl was going to make a scene. “I found an apartment today,” she remarked conversationally. “It’s ever so attractive. There’s a beautiful sunny nursery for Rita ... By the way. Miss Smith—l was going to call Bob later—will it be convenient to send Rita over tomorrow? I’m planning to move right in—it’s furnished, you see. Wc might as well get settled.” Miss Smith's straight mouth tightened at the corners. j “I don't know as it will,” she said.i “Well, it doesn’t really make any j difference,” assented Molly tactfully. ”1 only wanted to relieve you as soon as possible of the responsibilities you've undertaken so generously.” There were in Molly’s room now. Miss Smith lit a cigarct. "What I did wasn’t anything,” she declared airily. "It's what I m goin’ to do.” “Indeed?” Molly raised her eyebrows, “Don’t pull any of your stagey airs on me!” warned Miss Smith. “I don't know what you're talking about,” declared Molly angrily. “If you’ve anything to say to me, why don’t you say it?’ n an THE other girl flicked the ashes from her eigaret. “It’s about Bob,” she said. “Maybe you’ve been givin’ him an earful, land then again maybe you haven’t. But all I got to say is Bob’s goin' to marry me. Sec?” Molly was genuinely shocked. “Marry you!” she cried. “Why, his wife hasn't been dead a month. Haven't you any decency?” “I don't know as I have,” conceded Miss Smith. “But I got an awful pile of determination, dearie.” “But why have you come to me? Ini not Mr. Newton's keeper. If he has the execrable, taste to marry you. it isn't, after all. any ,of my business. "No?” Miss Smith blew insolent rings. “You don't think I've anything to say about it, do you?” demanded I^olly. “I think just this.” Elsie propped her feet up comfortably on the bed. “I think he'd marry you tomorrow. if he got the chance.” Molly rose furiously to her feet. “Stop it!” she commanded. “Well, I do." pursued Miss Smith calmly. "I got a right to my own opinion. I suppose?” Molly's tone was icy. “So long as you keep it to yourself.” “Oh, all right. I'm not one to : talk anyhow. What T got to say is this. Miss Burnham—you want Rita —don't you?” Molly nodded stifify. “And I want Bob. Well, here's my proposition. You use your influence with Bob. And when we're married I'll make him move away from Bosj ton. You’re goin’ to have a lot of trouble with that man. Miss Burnham. if you don't do what I say. When he gets li£ he's the wildest I thing you ever saw. He’d steal little Rita on you. like as not. And run away somewhere with her. He’s always talkin’ of going’ to South America. (To Be Continued)

TARZAN OF THE APES

The morning after the Dum-Dum. the tribe started slowly back through the forest toward the coast. The body of Tublat lay where it nad fallen, for the people of Kcrchak do not ear their .wn dead. The march was but a leisuiriy search for food. Once old Sabor crossed their path.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES ;

7 X.C(P*V- k~Kl\ I WAT ? VNVtfA ! \V\GOWNft WE i VW|W' ? b p ,Kv cMERE’* ~'> f- xo 6WWSE 00 j! rye. mQ ? J a*;. VE. J .. W.T ,-* *^^|^|&flE9HNv£3Q9BßMor9!£3flSMiHENMMßHv3Hil^^ r WELL,WHY MOT? | CHILE,VUS& CORA'd SOW? |: MOW DON'T |, PLENTY* iEE CAO6E PE Y CORN WbKEP VIE OOTTN HER 6YaK> \T SHE ; BE EYL\Y -11 STORK EROM6 \T DE TOST T'TNVE \T OOT HEARD YO TH\K>R\Vi' SECH 11 WHAT CQOiD ! TIME , NN'T NO SI6N VT’O a OfT J^L^sjp

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

/''■■“■ !■'■■* ■■ ■ 1 .--n i, ~ S ” 1 "" ' ’ ~ Y" WXll, Soys-AK& sor y vaEll, So lon<s, I ou,x DON'T SUPPOSE To SET STARTED BACK A MEOA HAO A ) ILL £M£IR GET To TUt TO 7U£ Ranch—yoßE / NICE.TIME WERE \ CiTY-N-y.' V77P. all UNCLE HARRy'LL g£ y AT VOOR PLACE -"=*•—\ 7UE APTOS AND NOISE WORRIED ip v 7 ’ 1 1P Vo ° fcJ£2 - G£T / I TUiDiP X'D SO DON'T SUCM.I op > ’HHb '° SHADVSIDE. ft CCAXy ]

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

r 6CEi i THOUGHT VT’D Y / SUOOi VOU JUST r f Ott, IUST DOWN TO SEE A EE A LOTTA FUN COMlM’j WITH f WHERE FELL A WHO RUNS A FRUVT BACK HOME, <jOZ.Y I / HE'S AN OLD Thought g> be a Bi&y aintahce.

SALESMAN SAM

r \ HAODA COME. OVER AN' Te(J_ Y CrEETH ATS GREAT I'T’A TH’ News, kitty- GULZ ts J e>OT t'LL WORRY AU. send 1 w n\e op north ta oexJ the. Time. You’re.

MOM’N POP

BA-A-\S MSS.GUNN AT 4nhat a 1 HOME ? t-V K)D 3SOTHEP 1 ( POLITE UTTIE here took amv s eov JUnP’.NC. ROPE AND HE S' Tx ! Jr THOUGHT HE’D BETTER I’M \ Ufe|fgi APOLOGIZE SORRY f\ fIjJH ' 'Gil \ i , ■ , v v\y'ii \\l ii ! I ' a 1 11 11 /

This sent them scurrying to the safety of the higher branches. Tarzan sat directly above the lioness—and hurled a pineapple at their ancient enemy. Into his mind a great plan sprung. He haci killed the fierce Tublat,: now would he track down the cratty Sabor and slay her likewise! * . - t '

—By Martin

r AVJ DON'T Do THAT, KITTY! ITS THE ESKIMO GIRLS 1 UuL Take, ear moses JCm thinking about, cam' I AN’ GALOSHES ALONG- —J' CM AFRAID YOU’LL FLIRT ] THEM*

At the bottom of his little English heart beat the great desire to cover his nakedness with clothes. He had learned from his picture books that all MEN were so covered, while APES and every other living thing went naked. So he desired the skin of Sabor the lioness. t

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

'TyteV VoU FELLAS f'7 j rri- ) (tfMMBHBi RAlAjlM’-rtM-r A.'M-r , 41' ! -- - 9 ■ KiO SI6Vi MoYMiaT -To Po f- ' r * ' ;_ t*£ BmMßisffl VOLI CAM 50AP ) r OM i L-^%: 4 7 Me/J- HoJSES iJJ 3^ hv \VA\7 a>>/ N ' DOIMY Vcii 6£Y Lis A 7 \\\ v '-' iA\ \ ' U COUPLE. OF ,;■ ; V\\ < VY l am t we cam holp ’em {j U-./ff' \\\ \ \\\ \ Y OVER VoUR SHEEP 50 YM’ V'H /|fi \J?i y\\ j *\\ V Vlo<gY SrißlKii< ;Y^^7| \ ' )\ * •__ \ POESMt' VMAMI'Yb SEE V?, !; |i' : f* , rf ® \ \ I \ "~\ c WIORK, IS Yl-r CAMMED eruiy;-! Y y_il* 4“ \,\ v ' s'jlr \\ \ \ (- Hercules am' samsoM 7_l . \' \y\ ~Y > Woulp walk - , out qM Him . <YTj \ Y ?AvA r .\ after Ywo pa vs am 7 Ji’l *uy 1 ! makers lH- B ' ~ ,7< y° 7 't 1,1:0 u a p,Torr . v

r / "V 77 I 6£c, X LIARDLV BLAV-'S. ■ 6'BV£ i j ."• j Ut2 FOR n-OT WANT!NS J j • ' 70 LLANcI ‘TlilS PLAOL, x /. — irJ/r ' p°'WPam' tag vW.f i / ,r i-\ 7/ / oOOD ■ -O- _.i,y y j • COUNTRY CERTAINLY Y’VyVV y / bye V / ; oers under a ( .' Tr>--- —‘ "- "f' '7 2 !’■■ '■ • 7.- 2 REG U.'s. RAT Or r - V ■ < . _ J v —— lLj-_Qj, 9 r av sr,> p -'^ r ,** ...IJf-J

r there he is. "Ywhy, vt loons f sure, cud ane, forgive a old \- 1 nossir 1 . REMEMBER HiMtV LIKE ) GOOS 1 IT’S ( THE CHURCH ) LAD. LET BYGONES/ ME. I AINT ( I * \ AND GOT A K B 6 BYGONESAKIN’ HANDS j MULL \ CxIRL, YJASH.J CRTT w ' Trt NOBODY ifoX \ I HE’S j i | 'AT'S DONE

■ CHiCK OUT? WELL A /^M. .SETTLE DC’NM S?iD^ J 1 GUESG VLL S'T \ ( T&VT U LOAD Off —XjP / DOWN AMD WMT FO& UfLMS.CHICK MU- BE J

On this day he had other things to attract his attention. Suddenly it became as midnight. Faintly came a low. sad moaning. The great trees, bent. Vivid and blinding lightning flashed from the whirling, inky clouds above. Roaring thunder belched forth its fearsome challenge. The deluge came—pandemonium broke loose!

~V GOODNESS i! ( IMAGINE TH’ GIRLS UP (N rvjtf- 4 GRACIOUS, KlTty i j THAT COUNTRY Give. TH’ /DEAR-1 VIOUUDN’ T |; FELLAS TH' CCLO SHOULDER ,t oo that-amd i an’ the (cy stare! r u < EVEN IF l DIO, it. | . > WOULDN’T DO ME 7/ ’ cV any good— : ' ——-

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

The tribe huddled in shivering fear from the cold rain at the bases of great trees. For hours it raged—ending suddenly. To Tarzan came a dawning light to explain the mystery of clothes. How snug hed ha’-e ben beneath Sabor s heavy coat! So was added incentive.

PAGE 11

—By Ahern

—By Blosscr

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Taylor