Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 178, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 December 1929 — Page 18

PAGE 18

T he Woman Charmer BY VIDA HURST

SYNOPSIS | Wben Jacqueline Bordlnl. famous I movie star returns to the little town In which she had grown up, Howell Shes- : field feels the earrings of dissatlsfac- j tlon. His father, a hard-workne doctor • never had gotten rich, and Howell, studying medicine In preparation to fol- ; low hi* father's profession wonders If ho i really wants to be a doctor, Jacqueline, at a dance In her honor, tells Howell he Is too good-looking for the town of Fair- i fax. Meanwhile. his father, tired and j overworked conies down with pneuomnla. \ CHAPTER THREE STANDING beside his lather, , watching the frenzied gasping for breath, Howell’s soul revolted at the unfairness of it. His father had done so much to ease the pain of j others; had driven so patiently j through midsummer heat or wintry j blizzards, leaving his comfortable j bed, without a word of complaint . . . fate might have been more generous. Might have taken him without sui ii an agony of suffering. Some quality of youth shrivelled and died in the boy as his father, secure in the belief that Howell’s future was decided, passed away. If the old doctor could have known the passionate resentment sweeping his son’s heart, surely even then he would have made an effort to quiet with the magic of his understanding, youth's eternal rebellion. In the midst of his mother’s and sister’s weeping, Howell stood, dryeyed. So this was all it amounted to. A life poured forth unstintingly. Unceasing, devoted, service rendered without regard for remuneration. And in the end as cruel, remorseless a death as any he had cheated. Death, in a shabby room, where even the worn carpet and faded wall paper were eloquent witnesses of the injustice his father had suffered. He became conscious of a hand upon his arm. His mother, leaning heavily where she had never leaned before, was whispering, “Oh, son thank God you’re left to me.” Yet through the days which followed Howell walked alone. Unable to express himself to any human being. “He’s taking it awfully hard," the neighbors said, after each kindly, food-bearing visit. An array of layer cakes, delicious meringe covered pies and bowls of salad and mayonnaise was in the spotless kitchen. Howell knew each culinary marvel expressed much real unspoken sympathy, yet he could not touch a bite of them. Only the relatives who came from out of town enjoyed the delectable feast. His mother, bravely choking | down toast and tea, pressed food j upon them, concerning herself even in her grief with the comfort of others. Agnes, exhausted with sorrow and what they called her “delicate condition,” was put to bed and did not 1 appear until the funeral. The subdued rustle of excitement In the house tortured Howell. If only these well-meaning people would go away and leave them alone. He spoke of this. Irritably, the ! night befere the funeral, when he stopped for a moment in his mother's room. She answered, reproachfully. “But. I want them, clear. They are ; my friends. Every one of them feels a perse v. 1 bereavement in the loss ! of your father.” nan HE could not understand. Tire raw, quivering, ache in his heart could bear no touch, however sympathetic, unon it. He was compelled to suffer in silence. Striding over snowy, deeply rutted roads, where once the disreputable Ford had rattled, searching for relief from memories he knew would haunt him always, Howell realized that his final decision had been made. Whatever happened, he w ? ould not return to medical studies now, would ! not continue a career which offered so little. The morning of the funeral he learned that Jacquelin Bordini had pursued her gold-strewn path to New York. “She’ll be there for some time,” Mrs Tewsbury reported, in the hushed tone every one was using. 1 “She’s going to make some pictures there.” Howell felt a sudden delicious warmth at the mention of her name, remembering, even in the numbness ■of his grief, how Jacqueline had whispered. “You’re too good-looking for this little town.” It seemed ages ago The beloved doctors funeral was held in the church to accommodate the crowd of people. It was a place he had little time to frequent while he was living, although it seemed fitting that he should rest there ! now. The coffin, heaped with flowers was open so that every one might see him. This seemed sacrilege to j Howell, but his mother would have it so. “He belonged to them, too,” she reminded him. She seemed to feel a strange, fierce pride in the long line of people which passed reverently before the body of her husband. The tears flowing from their eyes seemed in some mysterious fashion to dry her own. Mothers with children he had brought Into the world placed little. home-made wreaths among the j more expensive flowers. Raw-bonec countrymen held their hats awkwardly before them and stared down with embarrassed, grief-filled eyes. Most of them owed their lives to the doctor. Many of them Howell never had seen before.

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Mrs. Tewksbury, who In her capacity of his mother’s “best friend,” sat with the family, whispered that never in the history of Tarkio had so many people attended a funeral. Howell would have silenced her, but his mother, as if considering the remark a tribute, pressed her hand. There was something his mother and Agnes had in common with these others that he did not share. He was alone. Outside in a solitude where none could follow him. He watched the coffin sink into the flower-lined grave, with hot, brown eyes. There was more than the body of his father being lowered there. Yet only Howell knew it. He held his mother’s hand and with an insight sharper than his pain, felt that now at last he had “put away childish things.” Not so easy to explain this knowledge to his mother and sister. Back in the orderly living room listening to the reading of a will which was pathetic in its brevity, Howell discovered the battle was before him. a u a T TIS father had left a small estate **• without incumbrances and a SIO,OOO life insurance policy to his “dear wife,” stating with characteristic, confidence and simplicity that in case he died before his son completed his education, no sacrifices should be considered too great to procure for him his professional training. Tears burned in Howell’s eyes at the reading of that will. Take his mother’s money to finish a training which would require almost three more years? While people like old man Borden had a daughter who in four years’ time showered blessings upon him! Not Howell! He waited, however, until they were alone to voice this opinion. When his mother said, ‘T think you should be going back to school,” he answered, “I’m not going back, mother,” and winced at her surprise. “You aren’t going back? What do you mean?” “Just what I say. I’ve changed my plans.” She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Do you feel it isn’t fair for you to spend the money?” “Yes,” he admitted, “but that isn’t my only reason. I’m afraid I can’t explain it to you.”

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She said, quietly, “You might at least try.” He flung away from her, then, placing the floor with long, firm steps, which he knew were heartbreakingly similar to his father’s. He did not know that the echo of those footsteps was not so painful as the worlds which fell from his lips. “I don’t want to hurt you, mother. I know how you've planned and saved. But I can’t go on with it. I don’t want to be a doctor.” “Why don’t you? You must have a reason.” “Plenty of them,” he agreed. “Some of which I have tried to explain to you before.” “But, Howell, you can’t mean that you were serious in the things you said the other day.” “Yes, I was. There’s a lot more I might add, but what’s the use? I know you wouldn’t understand?” u u u HER face whitened. She was thinking how terrible it was that she should be forced to face this issue alone, while he, with the cruelty of youth, continued: “I want to make money. Big money.” “Mony is not the most important thing in life, my son.” “Maybe it wasn’t when father was a boy, but it’s awfully important now. Why, mother, it’s for your sake as well as my own. I want to do things for you. Buy you things.” “There is nothing you could buy me at such a price." “But don’t you see,” he cried, “this is a matter I have to decide alone? It’s my life. After all, you’ve no right to insist that I be a doctor, if I’ve changed my mind.”

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She stared at him tragically and answered nothing. “I thought it was what I wanted to be, of course. But being out in the world has opened my eyes. Bigger places don’t see things as you do here in this little town.” Every word he uttered was like a knife in her heart. “I will have to ask you for SSOO. but I promise, on my honor, I will never take a cent more.” “Oh, Howell, your father wanted you to have that money.” “I won’t need'it,” he said, confidently. “Look at Jasqueline Bordini,” and proceeded to unfold his plan. In vain his mother pleaded. Howell was determined. His sister scolded and told him he was breaking his mother’s heart. She’d be sorry for that some day. They’d

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both be sorry when he returned like Jacqueline Bordini. The neighbors made unkind and pointed comments. Os them all only the mayor’s daughter understood. “I believe in you, Howell,” she said, dramatically. “I will be proud to wait for your return.” He left her with his fraternity pin and a boy’s awkward kiss. Within the year she was to marry the cashier in the Farmers’ bank, but at the moment both were sincere and Howell thought himself much in love. There were tears In his eyes as he boarded the train and all the fierce courage and deathless determination of a modem Sir Galahad in his heart. But Howell was on his way to Hollywood. (To Be Continued.)

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