Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 63, Indianapolis, Marion County, 23 July 1930 — Page 9

JTTLT 23,1930.

O'JT OUR WAY

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utinmw BY= KATHLEEN NORRIS - COPYRIGHT, 1930, ItfUtA BELL SYNDICATE

WHO'S WHO IN THF STORT PATRICIA CHESFBROUGH, member of *n old family well entrenched In society. Is forced to earn her own living *nd receives an offer from the family of BEATRICE PALMER to put her across In fashionable circles ana get for her invitations to the exclusive clubs and dances. The offer is made bluntly and frankly bv Beatrice's brother. DAN PALMER, who stipulates that if Beatrice marries one of the eligible* Patricia will get an additional fee of *25,000. The suggestion Is made bv Dan and his mother that Beatrice's portrait be painted by SIDNEY HUTCHINSON, a popular artist. whose studio teas ana work have attracted the fashionable crowd. Sidney has been Pat's pal from childhood and they are secretly engaged till he gets a good start In his art career. He just has returned from abroad. Pat hesitates to undertake such a bold and bald scheme and leave the Palmers promising to ri*e her decision later. The realization of her debts begins to pinch and influence her while she Is making up her mind. Her rich and snobbish relatives are opposed to any contact with anew rich family, but do not offer to help her. The situation ts complicated bv the return of his sister. HELENA, an actress, shallow and selfish. who is going to New York for an engagement and wants him to try his lurk there as a painter. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY. CHAPTER TWO (Continued) The time came, three years ago now, when he must go to Parts, and for two years Farchester heard only echoes of his success. And then he came back, and Patricia began to taste the reward of he.* faith and her waiting. Only these i vo knew the joy of their renewed friendship, the exquisite hours of music, of talk and of silence that they shared. Still preserving their secret, they began confidently to plan for the near future when Sidney should have just a trifle more assured work ahead and when Patricia should come to share the big studio with him and step with him into the world cf struggling, achieving and struggling anew for which she so longed. man AND then—out of a clear sky, Helena, and Helena’s problem. Sidney was rare; Helena was commonplace. Sidney was generous; Helena was narrow and jealous. Sidney helped all the world; Helena would not even help herself. It was a deadlock. For two months the situation had been growing daily less and less endurable for them all. They talked of Helena now and again, as they walked. Helena, it appeared, was In touch now with old friends who were shortly to play a vaudeville engagement in Farchester, and they were anxious to have her take a small part with them when they returned to New York for the season. One of Sidney's artist friends there most opportunely had offered him his studio. a a a THE question that Sidney and Patricia had been discussing for days was whether it would not be wiser for him to go. to establish himself and Helena and then to have Patricia go to him to be married in the spring. “New York.” she mused. “I don't know, Sid—perhaps it wquld be wisest after all." "It would mean that we could snap our fingers at Deerbridge,” he said thoughtfully. "Forever!” Patricia laughed at her own fervent tone. “It would mean that I took the Palmer offer.” she added. “I'll make hay while the sun shines. With you gone and myself going. I can do anything now”’ * * * SUDDENLY hopeful and eager, they planned it. Not in years had their plans been so definite and so immediate. Heretofore Patricia had silenced him when talk of a fresh separation had seemed the reasonable thing. But tonight she seemed suddenly brave for the sacrifice and almost anxious to have the time of waiting and waiting begin. “I'll see if Helena likes these Rosses.” Sidney said, at the gate. \ “If she does and they really engage ; her. then we'll plan to go—and r’ i now!” “I do—l do truly think that's the j best way,” Patricia conceded. She was looking up in the dim j light and could see the protecting look she loved on his face. “YouYe so-so decent, Pat!" hei said. "I wonder if Ifi e been right j to hold you so, all these years?” j “But I wanted to be held!” she; reminded him. “Why, Sid," she j added tenderly, “have you got thel blues tonight?” “Horribly!" he answered gloom- ; dy. “I feel as if I’d made such a botch of my life and yours! If I! had it all to do over again. I’d take j you with me to Pans, Pat. We

might have starved, but we wouldn’t have minded it!” “No, we wouldn’t have minded it,” she echoed. And suddenly the autumn evening seemed sad and bleak and helpless to her. “Now we talk of more waiting!” he said bitterly, “The last!” A sigh followed the brave words. There was a little silence. “You think we ought to do it?" he said, ending it. “I am beginning to think so, Sid!" And for a moment they stood looking at each other, keenly, tremendous things unsaid between Once her breast rose on a quick breath, as if she would add something to what she had said, but the sentence died unborn. They had waited a long time and fresh waiting was ahead. There was nothing to say. Suddenly Patricia found herself close to teafrs. Her eyes were filling, her mouth unsteady. She gave him a quick pressure of small gloved hands and a shaken smile. The gate clicked and the doorway of the boarding house showed her slender figure for a second, silhouetted against a faint hall light. Then the door closed. a a a CHAPTER THREE IN the warm and odorous hall of her boarding house, the girl hesitated. Dinner, with a great clicking of plates, was in progress below stairs. But Patricia was not hungry, and she slowly and wearily climbed the two flights to her own room. It was a small room, shabby and crowded. The walls were a vague, flowery paper, the curtains were limp. There was a wide couch with a Bagdad tapestry over it. a rocking chair and a washstand half hidden by a stenciled burlap screen. A large bureau was wedged in beside the bed and the wall; a hinged gas bracket could be moved to light the mirror or the book of a person lying in bed. Under the window was a big trunk, covered with a steamer rug, and is this trunk were papers, silver, forks and spoons, old jewelry and odd bits of lace, all that was left to the daughter -of Colonel Alexander Ingoldsby Chesebrough and MarieLouise Page, his wife. Sometimes the lonely occupant cf this room opened the trunk and filled hed lap with daguerreotypes and old letters, with cardcases of filigree silver and necklaces cf jet and gold. She would unroll the heavily fringed brocade that had been her mothers’ wedding gown, she would sigh over the glovebox from the Orient and the Doulton tea cups. Here was the Chesebrough family tree, done upon parchment, here was the coat of arms and a faded photograph of the old Virginia home, with hoop-skirted ladies in colored sacques posed upon the entrance steps. All gone—everything gone. There were a few oil portraits hung in Cousin Christine’s house, there were some mahogany chairs in Uncle Paul’s attic. That was all. Tonight the girl did not open the trunk, but she sat upon it and put her elbows on the high windowsill and looked down over the tops of maple trees into shabby, oldfashioned York street. The autumn night was cool, but voices and footsteps echoed below her and in the pools of light under the street lamps cats preyed upon circling moths. With a wild whooping the neighborhood gang of boys tore bv; the giddy, pretty Gordon girl slipped toward the drug store and chocolate sundaes with her latest beau. It came to Patricia, with a sudden rush of pain and rebellion, that she never had been so much alive as this passing group of young gangsters, and as this common, noisy girl about whom nice women "talked.” She had always been a Chesebrough, restricted, * dignified, obliged to hold aloof. Rich women and ide women had set the pace that she must keep. Because they did not care to do certain things, she must not do them. Because publicity was vulgar, Patricia must starve rather than hold the family pride less than sacred. • a a THEY had let her come to 27, they would let her go to 57. shabby, scrimped, humiliated. Out of Uncle Paul's half million, out of Cousin Christine's half million, out

—By Williams

of Aunt Louise’s many millions, the little, little sum that Patricia needed for absolute happiness never had been set aside! And now Sidney was going again—“l believe I’ll put my pride in my pocket,’’ Patricia decided, heroically, “and go to Aunt Louise!” She had a discouraging vision of herself cacklingly referred to as Chaddy, but she suppressed it. “I’ll ask her for a lump sum,” Patricia thought. ‘Til go east with Helen and Sid, and I’ll drop out of Deerbridge forever! I’ll ask for twenty—for twen-ty-five thousand dollars!” Twenty-five thousand dollars! The words touched a remiiiscent note somewhere. For a second Patricia’s thoughts paused, and when they went on it was in anew direction. She need not humble and hurt herself. The Palmer girl must surely marry someone, properly handled. Her mother and her brother would not be too hard to suit. Without Patricia she was helpless; Patricia had seen other unwelcome newcomers cruelly snubbed by Deerbridge society. But with Patricia it was to be expected that some presentable youth must be susceptible to the youth and comeliness and millions of the heiress of the Sensatone Palmers. Indeed Patricia, who had no illusions as to the youths of her acquaintance, could think of at least three collegians who would be quite frankly affected by the thought of such financial pre-eminence. Her family, of course, would rage. That is, it would rage when it fully realized her iniquity. But by that time she and Sidney would be married, and meanwhile it would be rather refreshing to infuriate the family, to make them pay, in a slightly inverted sense, for the honor of the name. They had dragged Patricia up to their standard; she would draw them down to hers. There was a sort of justice in it that amused her. She knew that she could do it. A rare dimple deepened in Patricia’s cheek. She presently got down from her trunk and descended three flights of stairs to the telephone, just outside the dining room door. She was still smiling as she called the Castle. “Ain’t you going to have any dinner?” said a fellow boarder ten minutes later, when Patricia slowly remounted the stairs, Patricia gave her an absent look in reply. The taste of red pottage was bitter in her mouth. AFTER all, it was not entirely the Palmers’ plebeian dollars that confirmed Patricia in her mad decision to defy the family. Indeed, the sensations she experienced after she had had a second talk with Dan and his mother and after she had received a clean little new yellow handbook with the first S3OO deposit duly entered in pale green ink were far from pleasant. Misgivings beset her then, and for the first time in all her proud life she felt a touch of shame. (To Be Continued)

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

Satisfied, Tarzan retraced his steps to the summit of the kopje. Werper, from his hiding place, watched him pass upward, then he dropped stealthily into the darkness of the tunnel entrance and disappeared. The ape-man, tipon the kopje’s edge, raised his voice in the thunderous roar of a lion. Thrice he repeated the cry and listened. Faintly, from far across the valley came an answer. Basuli. the Waziri chief heard the signal and was coining.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

N /• ( " A *XU>,SOOT*! NO LfcVS.MAiOSI! <3oo© WC*fct\ OH.TrtEXet TH**6 *oo* \ wear too'oe \ too* owe op ywex'r.e yvkje now * hace x notice© THtflN OP TOOWY -AN' STKtTD TOAVN\N6 YOtt HOW OCR. CU3O* WM> CAIOtRS NOW OP WCTrt \T,TOO THESE OALOWAi? Wt HAMENT N. 1 lvce \ WOOL© UXTH yksKyo Rook tor haw ~~ 5 A *>\ac RXirtUNE. YCCER-S ' MORE MEMBERS j | ' i

C 6sAT ' 1 TW\NVC ILL OH,\ L.OOE.WWV ,Yoa THE i WtIX,VOO NEEONT THIM* I OTTER, A PU.VZ.E TO PRVZES ’ E>OT, \T CASE VCMO CAN \VI > OCMifo TOR. the ecnch iosr xoo'u. pardon <bTAX op thy j A'bvaw' —west's 9LEMTY TO CANE THEV\ an MX INSTEP - LONGEST ,OV If XOO CAN OO PATH 6VMOER.S -'HAT ARE XOO COOR.SE j SEiAOES STPX OP WYCH S)NNA OTTER. \T . 'EM —E’OE YOON© ,Wtt ' f|

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

WASHINGTON TUBBS I-I

EC f MOW DO VJE KNOW HILO IS ( OCR. FRIEND? MAYBE HE'S JUST OBEVING ORDERS-MAYBE HE'S TRYING TO GET US To BEAT

SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

S3 WHAT WERE VOO DOING \VVE BEEN DRIVING A TRUCK-LOAD K\ . CLIMBING THE PORCH ROOF \N I OF BOWUNKS TO THE SAND-PIT e\j WAKENED AT MY OLD COAT AND WEARING A / FOR MB. HARTLEY FOR A DOLLAR SUN-UP MUSTACHE AND GOGGLES At / A TRkF> AND L DIDN'T INANT AMY—BY THE SHRILL TO RCCOGNl^^^^^^^^^

Tarzan returned to the treasure vault. It would be several hours before his blacks could reach the place. Meanwhile he made six trips and each time carried to the kopje’s edge a load of the precious metal which might well have staggered two ordinary men. His mind reverted to that first occasion when he had come by chance upon the gold as he fled from the pits beneath the temple where he bad been hidden by La, the high priestess of the sun Mprshippers.

—By Martin

He recalled the temple scene where he had lain stretched upon the sacrificial altar, while La, with poised dagger, stood above him; the rows of fanatical priests waiting to catch his life's blood; the brutal and bloody interruption of the rite by the mad votary. He wondered if La still ruled over the ruined city? Had she been forced to marry one of her grotesque priests? It seemed a hideous fate for one so beautilupu the sun priestess.

OUR BOARDING HDUSE

gif' EGAP, UWCcEAMBROSE.r efi Vm f VOLI ABE THE o A -f r —Fie aw voLi —a maw. / j , FROM x ixs-rAwas T WELL OV/ER SEV/eWIV f PRAWaAi<2. V\ **£.* loo k S < LIKE ARooWP like a BoV scou< If a BeAci-t -rew-r#-J aup weARiWs a surr-THAr ; ! _ GO art oa-r iw ( BoRPERS oW MARCIAi t \_, li-TV© UP "T& VOUR V CF > “gg.'XSr/ v ~\( I AM GREAILV y-A " J ”—' —ilw w J. ' VVJE- .^TWILD V w ,, NiASCTvicc.we. />-Y/w < im.ii.tHT.on l .

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f (TJEFORE WASH AND EASY CAN DECIDE WHAT f / VTSET A STIFF UPPER UP, 1 U-’TO DO, A MESSENGER ARRi\l6s [ GEE WFZI I WONDER \ PODNER, AND A LOADED JMtmamu’ - / / WPS UP NOW? I GET GUN. I GOT AN IDEA ( -^§lM'S HOLY MAJESTY COLD SHIVERS EVERY / THINGS ARE COMING u f . . ‘■i'11......./

Bi f VLLNOT HAVE IT V . DRIVING A ' PAY A CHAUFFEUR ON A / TRUCK VJOtIT HURT APS TRUCK-GREAT / HIM,BUT THE k \ GAVE HEAVENS*. IF HE / DISGUISC'.THE y VJANT STO WORK I MU ST A CHE 1 WOW, | — ...W *™__

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

All this and more passed through Tarzan’s memory as under the flickering candlelight he stood gazing at the long tiers of dull yellow metal. And all the while Werper, in hiding, watched the ape-man, waiting for him to be gone. He had learned the secret for which he had trailed Tarzan and now he could return to his cutthroat band, bring them to the treasure and carry away all that they could stagger under, ’

PAGE 9

—By Ahern

—By Blossei;

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan