Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 62, Indianapolis, Marion County, 22 July 1930 — Page 11

TOLY 22,1930

PUT OUR WAY

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BHIHKOIir BY’KATHLEEN NORRIS' COPYRIGHT, 1930, bytke BELL SYNDICATE.

• ' WHO'S WHO IN THE STORY PATRICIA CHESEBROUGH. member of • n old family well entrenched In society. Is forced to earn her own living and receives an offer from the family of BEATRICE PAI MER to nut her across In fashionable circles and get for her invitations to the exclusive clubs and dance*. The offer Is made bluntly and frankly bv Beatrice’s brother. DAN PALMER, who stipulates that If Beatrice marries one of the ellglbles. Patricia will get an additional fee of *25.000 The suggestion Is made bv Dan and Ms mother that Beatrices portrait be painted bv SIDNEY HUTCHINSON, a popular artist. whose studio teas and work have attracted the fashionable crowd. Sidney has been Pat’s Dal and suitor almost from hovhood and lust has returned from .-hro"d. Pat hesitates to undertake such r. bold and bald scheme and leaves the ”Mn>ers. promising to give her decision later. The realization of her debts ber r,s to ninch and influence her while •he * making up her mind. CHAPTER TWO Fu ROM her deep musing she roused herself to wave to the pretty Page girls, driving home with Mademoiselle from the all-impor-tant business of ordering their first real party frocks, and to bow to the Partridges, father and son, walking their beautiful bays under the great maples of the bridle path. Everybody was so happy, so much occupied. Patricia, leaving the park and going straight into the city, sighed. It was Thursday afternoon, and there would be people at the studio. No chance of seeing Sidney alone I Nevertheless, she turned In at the familiar doorway beside the flower shop and climbed past the door that said "O'Callaghan, Robes." The artist had the upper floor all to himself. and he and his sister kept house in the two or three rooms behind the big studio. They were all making a great deal of noise over the tea-getting. Patricia, joyously welcomed, was at once given charge of the refactory samovar. “It won't work,” said Sidney Hutchison, straightening to his full six feet and two inches and shaking the black hair back from his forehead. ‘T tell you, Pat, this thing is no good. We’ve had no tea and the situation is getting very tense.” “It works perfectly,” she contradicted him calmly. Order emerged from the cliaos. •Patricia's magnificent aunt, Mrs. Cecil Throckmorton, contentedly settled herself near the samovar; like them all. she was extremely fond of Patriria. Roberta- Throckmorton. tossing aside the new white furs that smothered her little figure in the new portrait, and Lillian Talbot, anotrtfr debutante, took the dark single seat by the fire and were attended by two youths, Ticky Ralston and Art Bruce. A vivacious, talkative, well-dressed woman of 4V Miss Betty Partridge chattered to them all from a draped velvet armchair, and young Mrs. Eyre, a pretty, mysterious little creature. Patrick's cousin, and known to this group as "Dorothy.” flirted deeply and delightedly with Con Hamilton, one of Deerbridge's middle-aged bachelors, who. was something of a painter himself, and Sidney Hutchinson's patron and friend. Cutting bread at the long studio table was the artist's sister, Helen*, a da’-k. rather plain girl, who had had a brief theatrical career. mam FINALLY, there was the artist himself, the lazy, charming, strangely cultured and yet strangely barbaric person who had drawn these others together. He was almost 40 now. but there was not a gray hair in the thick mop above his handsome and most interesting face, and the smile he gave Patricia, as he brought his cup of tea and sat beside her. was a . boy's happy smile. He was the son of a Spanish father arm an American mother, and upon the death of the former, years before, had been left to make his living as he might, through the goodness of an ur.de, in Deerbridge, while his mother and infant sister departed for the east. Patricia’s friendship for him dated from her tenth year, when the young man had chanced to board at the hotel that sheltered "the old colonel” and his exquisite little motherless ttrl. The Chesebroughs had liked him. and had befriended him in ttese earlier days; as he neve* forgot Patricia had stepped at once into the position of his closest friend, his confidante and hla adviser, and until the arrival of his sister, two or three Imonths ago now, she had been hos-

tess at these Thursday teas that all her world so much enjoyed. Sidney was poor, of course. But in what an enviable and simple fashion he made povc-*- romantic! Dinner tables everywhere listened and laughed when Sidney explained his maneuvering with landlord, tailor and florist. He earned little, and that little in irregular sums, and money was the last subject to interest him. To Patricia poverty was always hateful, sordid, and unmanageable. She could not owe money; the fact of doing so seemed to paralyze her moral senses. She had not the genius that makes excusable haphazard meals, home-made gowns, mis-matched bowls and plates. She paid $lO a week for the privilege of living in a clean and odorous and commonplace boarding house, she wore Aunt Annie’s old hats and the discarded garments of her younger cousins. Seven years ago she had been orphaned at 20, the beauty and the beggar of the allied families. They had all been kind to her in their various ways. She had spent two years as Aunt Louise Page's unpaid companion, a year traveling with Aunt Mary Chambers, while little Betty’s eyes were being treated by specialists in Germany; several months with the Pomeroys during a quiet winter of mourning, vacations here, there and everywhere. She was welcomed at all their homes and really needed and w’anted at none.

AND as the years went by she knew that she interested them less; she knew that uncles and cousins began to ask, “How old is Pat now?” and that answering aunts always gave her the disadvantage of an extra year or two. The cousins, with whom she had played games and gone to football matches, were married and scattered, and yet Patricia's own humiliating and burdensome problem remained the same. She had taken a brief course in library work, with their approval. But here in the studio now were three rich women—Annie and Dorothy and Betty—who never had suggested that she put their own libraries into good shape. She could not ask them, bitter as was her need. To Aunt Louise, the family dictator and head, she indeed had appealed ten days ego. Patricia’s cool cheeks burned at the memory. The odious housekeeper, one Mrs. Chadwick, who entirely controlled the old despot, smilingly had opined that Mrs. Page was too nervous for any distressing conversation, and Aunt Louise had cackled from her nest of shawls: “I don't hear you, dear! Ask Chaddy.” The rirl had come aw- - furiously resolvin that she would beg from strange - s before she turned again to Aunt Louise. She roused herself now from deep thought. "I didn't hear you. Aunt Annie.” "I only said that I hoped you didn't go to that dreadful woman’s house, dear,” Mrs. Throckmorton repeated. "The one who wrote you. The drug store woman.” "Mrs. Palmer.” Patricia said it dryly, a sudden little impulse of defense rising in her. “I wouldn’t catalogue her books for a million a month.” Dorothy Eyre said. "Mother got on some board with her once, and she simply haunted her!” "Come catalog my books, Pat,” Con Hamilton said lazily. "Attic’s full of 'em!” “Do you mean it?” she asked interestedly. "What should I have them listed for? I intend to give them all to Roberta here, when she marries!” “Too much is enough!” said Roberta unthankfull.v. "Getting married is sufficient, without your old books!” man "YT’OU must do ours some day, X Pat,” her aunt said. ‘Td like to have it done now, but for Roberta’s first winter it would seem too bad to have the library out of cumin ISsicgi.” "We’ve got three red novels and a set the mater won at a fair," Art Bruce offered. “You know you can't keep books in a hotel!” ‘Somebody must—the bookkeeper probably!" Roberta said, and there was a lafgh. It was rather amus-

—By Williams

ing for them, Patricia thought without bitterness. "You must take a good rest now, dear,” said her aunt. “I spoke to your Uncle Paul about a position in his office,’’ she added, in an undertone, ‘but he tells me that they only pay the girls S3O and $35 a month! That's not much, is it?” "I pay forty now,” said Patricia, “just for board.” “I know, Pat,” said her cousin, Mrs. Eyre, who had taken a hassock at her feet and, was leaning across her knees in girlish fashion. "But it’s a question of taking what you can get, I should think. George went into his father’s factory right at the bottom of the ladder, and now he’s earning SIO,OOO a year!” “I should rather go into an office than work in the Palmer library, I confess!” Mrs. Throckmorton said decidedly. "Oh, so should I!’ Dorothy echoed. A little whimsical wonder about what they would think of the work she really had been offered by the obnoxious Palmers twitched Patricia's mouth into a shadow of her grave smile. But she said nothing. a * a THE early autumn dusk was shutting down over the city, and the big north window was an oblong gray against the black shadows of the studio. Helena was lighting candles. The tea guests laughed their farewells. Patricia was the last to go. Sidney, as usual, went with her. His sister had disappeared kitchenward, he and Patricia went down the stairs together, past the dark sign of "O'Callaghan, Robes,” and into the twilit street. He had slipped into his big coat, his rakish hat was at its usual rakish angle. They went past Garfield Square, deserted now, and turned into East Cathedral avenue, and he caught her elbow, with a big bracing arm, and, in the darkness, as they slowly walked, she leaned just a little against him. They had been engaged to be married since Patricia's twentieth birthday. It had been unlike the radiant betrothals of other girls; it was kept secret all these years. For Patricia’s father was an invalid, and Sidney was only a wretched, restless clerk in his uncle’s coffee and spice warehouse. He had gravitated between his mother’s eastern home and his own for some years; he seemed as unstable as he was unprosperous. But through Patricia’s constant loyalty the interest of Con Hamilton had been enlisted, and presently the ecstatic Sidney had an attic studio and financial freedom for his work. Then Farchester began to know him for what he was and began to appreciate his wild and unique charm. In the dull time of her life with Aunt Louise and through all the hard times, Patricia’s happiest hours had been spent in his company. (To Be Continued)

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

And 50 Tarzan of the Apes forged steadily ahead toward Opar's ruined ramparts and behind him slunk Werper, jackal-like, and only fate knew what law in store for each. At the edge of the desolate valley overlooking the golden domes and minarets of Opar. Tarzan halted. By night he would go alons to the treasure vault, reconnoitering, for he had determined that caution should marie his every move on to* expedition.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES -

(■ 1 s T* N YEH 1 . AU. OG WE MEN ARE l GREAT K§* SW, YA HOOND G’-NAW -GO PEOUVE TAVON’ UP TH 1 MOSCLS. S STUFT, LOCK'S TH 1 \OEA IN LT YOO ICE*. THAT'S A MOUEH6NT THVS SOW\V\ER 5 BUMPO, 102 KfcEPlN’ BOOTS £* GREAT CHANCE YOU TO CET IN SHAPE TOR J] NO BOSRO OOT AT TH* ( t HER -SHE'S GETTING TH’YCKKBAU. SEASON [ 1 fOOUN* 'CSg YLYIN' E\EVO SOTO’ GOBS OF 6000 1 1. TS? REyc or ob fellas ; fresh a\r —awo *" ’*•’ Aim. YAAH-VT'G SO SVJEET NOPE ! iVa too I OF YOU ALWAYS TO, OOSC THINKING WHY TH 1 HECK I T 6<T HER. INTERESTBE TH\NK\N' OF HER: OE HER OON'TCHA EVCR to OOT AT THE AIRYOO AREN’T THINKIN # _f THINK. OE THE jfcfl POKY SO I COOL.O Os YOURSELF ANY, ?-m RE6T 04 J?, , SEE MCRE. m ™ ’ - .... jl ( y r-;—r—to^BY*ic* stwvikXW^

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

BN.Y MEVJ FCZZM AK!.— f" TUa LITTLE OIyE 15 WY HEPM£'V J /*i rs T* ii'CT 'I > P!iA...S!CH'_Y PELLCVPI.J fSOW SKAOYS'.DS AMO TU£ K BOYS ! i FCE. WIS WEALTH ...I OTVEQ SOY IG FBECKLES —y( .. ' J O Boys To meet Tw£ MO TWaT ROUNDED UP N l T.iTT' / OH, REDOING- JSfitZ r ‘ THAT COUNTERPEITING GANG / \® LAO ‘y - ■

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

Qjf ME, I VME NEITHER. AND yS PONT \ HILO, If WE &WE I&8AY W WARRIORS. SOON THERE MILL BE A TERRIBLE WAY. *ll fflj B'U&VJt I OMBAY THE SUP, MOW DO O \&BAY UMBAY, WHO SQUANDERS THE VAST AND iRiftEDJ ■IN GHOSTS./ YOU KNOW This phantom M Riches Os the holt toads upon himself* IS

SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

With the coming of night he set forth, and Werper, who had scaled the cliffs alone behind the ape-man’s party, and hidden through the day among the rough bowlders of the mountain top, slunk stealthily after him. They came to the mighty granite kopje, outside the city’s walls, where lay the entrance to the passageway leading to the treasure vault. Werper saw the .giant apeman swing himself nimbly up the facy of the great rock.

—By Martin

Werper, clawing fearfully during the perilous ascent, sweating m terror, almost palsied by fear, but spurred on by avarice, followed upward, until at last he stood upon the summit of the reeky hill. Tarzan was nowhere in sight. Searching cautiously, Werper found the narrow entrance and advanced along the wellworn granite steps leading downward; but in the dark mouth of the tunnel he fearing to enter, lest he Tarzan.

GUR BOARDING HOUSE -

EAC <3H/£ VO(J A *tIP,MOOPLe.'- i^^- I j isM^t j Mf3.5 Berfreß Hats<iHAT uaJcls of - S BACK UP A -TorTfeM i. ASKE.P Me ~tb <3O CCi'T'lb a!' : ( GBAi'fLttMAAl WAS- j?. ie amp PAnice vorrH Him j [ m£Rei-V JP I -TbLP-THe OLP PELI CAM-To i l Mv/ ~ UAPPL-e OUT OAA A Pieß AaIP ) \ " suu Himself* ~if rrwAS*lv | ,u'empsv —BY MtA IMW. U. .DT OTF. 7* 22 - Lit ‘H ~FRAILiK^S

oSCAB'S UNCLE SAID ® REDDING IS THE I'M* <SOINo TO 6EE S / LETS 60 AND take J| 1 X M NAME TUANks tjat twey wame -me A LOOK AT your 3 j You had To COMiE up *v. c time of tueir uveg ) uncle's Airplane, y HERE FOR YOUR WEALTH— t) A cr , e *,, NWW>LE TUSY'RE WERE, j\ OSCAR— ly* 3ee-I HOPE You GET FRECKLES' £ CEODISIS yrs— V^_ VNELI—YOU LOOK ANYTHING but sick to Me.- ■“ >* anyway l p^P I D 1 " 5^ l A < I It//' F . 1 yAIWn FT < CID3O BY ht StHV'Ct IWC. u . 1

r ?,tkV. WHO is T NCU. MOST UVELY IT IS THIS NoJIH S ( BAH*. TOU'RE TOO SUPEftTHIS PHANTOM HE’S SOME SMART jgr CONFIDENT BELIEF THAT raj STiTtOUS, WliO. BUT ANVWjMV, KlVlCa? YOU / BANOIT who WANTS SB WE IS A MOST HOLY GHOST \ THANKS FOR'THE DOPE. CANT KVD US /TO GRAB OFF ALL SENT FROM THREE HEAVENS WE’LL THINK IT ODER- IF That HE’S ANV/ ’AT DOUGH FOR ABOVE To DESTROY THE / HIE CAM SNEAK MARY OUT

Hr

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

The ape-man, far ahead of him, groped his way along the rocky passage until he came to the ancient door, A moment later he stood within the treasure chamber, where ages since, long-dead hands had ranged the lofty rows of precious metal ingots for the rulers of their race. No sound broke the stillness of the subterranean vault. There was no evidence that another had discovered the forgotten wealth since last the ape-man had visited its hiding placa.

PAGE 11

—By Ahem’

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan