Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 65, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 July 1930 — Page 14

PAGE 14

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Bimm BY KATHLEEN NORRIS - COPYRIGHT, 1930, by ike- SELL SYNDICATE

WHO'S WHO IN' THE STORY PATRICIA CHESEBROUOH. membrr of *n old family well Intrenched In society. Is forced to earn her own ltvtnsr and receives an offer from the family of BEATRICE PALMER to put her across In fashionable circles and Ret. for her Invitations to the exclusive elubs and dances. The offer Is made bluntly and franltlv bv Beatrice's brother. DAN PALMER, who stipulates that If Beatrice marries one of the eligible* Patricia will get an additional fee of 00n The suggestion is made by Dan and his mother that Beatrice's portrait be painted bv Sidney Hutchinson, a popular artist, whose studio teas and work have attracted the fashionable crowd. Sidnev has been Pat's pal from childhood and has lust returned from abroad. Pat hesitates to undertake such a bold scheme, but the realization of her debts begins to pinch and influences her to agree. Her rich and snobbish relatives are opposed to anv contact with a new-rich famllv. but do not ofTer to help her. The situation is complicated bv the return of HELENA, an actress introduced as his sister, vho is going to New York for an engagement and wants him to try his luck there as a painter. NOW CIO ON WITH THF. STORY (Chapter Three—Continued! She seemed as she listened, to catch a glimpse of the essential beauty and sorrow of wifehood and motherhood. •‘But it ain't part of your duties to listen to an old woman talking!” Mrs. Palmer would say, with smiling compunction. Patricia's answer was frequently the subtle flattery of honest interest. "But go on—do you mean to tell me that this man—this Mason man —actually had the effrontery to effer Mr. Palmer SSO for the patent end formula and the whole thing?” CHAPTER FOUR o|| Na sunshiny, crisp Sunday morning in late October. Sidney Hutchinson entered a certain attractive downtown restaurant at about 10 o’clock and looked about It searchingly. More than one church-going woman was breakfasting here. Wack gloves and prayerber laid beside her plate, and nrr ng them he discovered Miss Cht through. He sat down in the empty chair opposite her. They looked serene and content and approval upon each other; there was an exquisite flttingness in their relationship of which both were conscious. The tall, handsome, keenrved artist, in his garments just suggestive of the picturesque, and the beautifully groomed and dressed woman, with her mysteriously lovely face, had been made in one mold. Their conversation was like something rehearsed, they thought alike on almost every subject, and seriously of none. Books, theories, music and the peccadillos of their friends formed their meeting place; Patricia would say a clever thing of a painting, even if she quite disbelieved it. just for the joy Sidney’s pleasure in the epigram gave her. With laughter, with mutual admiration. with gay. hospitality beside the studio fire, and in the more serious mood befitting formal dinrers, when Sidney in his irreproachable evening clothes was a target for all eyes, and Patricia’s beautiful arms and neck were bare, they met almost every day. And once or twice a year they ■pent a whole day together in the woods, more in memory of the old boy-and-girl times years ago than because these gypsy expeditions had anything to do with their present relationship. They had begun this when Patricia was perhaps 17. and when her father added dignity il not charm to the expeditions. And in the first months of loneliness after his death, she had loved thos- quiet Sundays more than anything else in he - life. After Sidney's return from Paris they had fitfully revived them; today’s freedom was the first since Helena's arrival. “Did you have to tell Helena?” Patricia smiled. "No. she went off with her Rosses last night” “And that." the girl added with her slow smile, ’’is the beginning of the end.” “The beginning of the beginning,” he amended. And as she glanced at him. and saw the narrowed gare fixed steadily upon her, happy color flooded her face. His big arms were folded, his fine mouth unsmiling, and for perhaps five minutes, while ahe finished her breakfast, he watched her in silence. mam THEN they went out into the sunny streets, just warming to a mellow autumn day. Sidney, taking possession of her bag. caught her small band in his childishly as they walked. Both! were in rough and shabby

and comfortable tweed, the man looking even more than his unusual height in his belted coat, loose knickerbockers and heavy highlaced boots. Patricia was radiant under a wide hat; her short skirt showed her own trim, high walking shoes. On the car, the ferryboat and the car again, they chattered with a freedom that had somehow been absent from their relationship of late. Helena’s coming and the responsibility she brought him and Patricia’s absorption in her new position had kept them apart. But this was their old playground, they had spent many a dreaming summer Sunday here, and every step of the way seemed to carry Patricia back to the old mood of happiness and hope. They were only a dozen miles from Deerbridge now, yet this was open country. The farmhouse, where they stopped for cream and the essential coffee pot, stood alone on the edge of a wood, and they had climbed only half a mile beyond it when there was no human sound except their own voices to break the heavenly autumn calm. Yellow and scarlet leaves drifted slowly down through the warm and fragrant air, the ground beneath their feet was strewn with glory. In the woods there was an aromatic, a balsamic tonic in the little currents of breeze that drifted to and fro; the sky as high and blue and crossed by the sails of tiny clouds. They heard a woodpecker and triumphant notes from the barnyard far below. The sounds came softened and beautified through the stillness. Almost without speech, they followed the half-effaced path. It led them leisurely upward and stopped where the sunlight fell warmly on the blue, wide waters of the dam. A wide bulkhead of cement held the waters back; there was a little spillway where they foamed free; for the rest, they were motionless, sapphire and satin smooth. The bank rose sharply on the opposite shore and the reflection of flaming trees lay unbroken in the still water. PATRICIA crossed the dam daintily and sat down with her back against a great oak. She took off her hat. smoothed her hair back with a quick motion of both hands, and gave a great sigh of utter happiness.

Sidney flung himself at her feet, and for a time there was no word between them and no sound in all the world except the smooth tumble of water from the dam, and the little crack and snap and rustle of small life in the woods. Chipmunks ran boldly about their own affairs, a trout jumped, and two great bluejays in mad pursuit of a plumytailed gray squirrel, curved and swept through the low branches of a maple. “Why do we think anything In the world is worth while except this. Pat?” “Do we?” she asked dreamily. “We think we do!” he answered somberly. “We get all mixed! Other things seem worth while. . . . Some day we’ll have a cottage in woods like these. Pat, and well bring our breakfast down to the dam, or our supper . . . we’ll watch the moon rise!” They had planned it so. for years, she thought, looking half sadly at his handsome, happy face, his halfshut eyes. “Do you know the Palmer motto, Sid?” “Great Allah! Have they a motto? And a coat of arms, of course? Where did they get them?” “I don’t know where they got them, my dear, but they have them. On Beatrice's notepaper. on the table linen and on the limousine. This is the family motto. . . .” “Since week before last.” he interpolated. “Well, what is it?” he added as she laughed and was silent. “It is ’Make the Way,’” Patricia said. “Good motto for climbers!” he commented dry ly. a a a motto for anybody,” she VJ said. “It's mine now, Sid. I am going to mn.ke them my way. They want to climb into society on my shoulders; I'm going to climb into independence on theirs. The way was Caponsacchi. They are my Caponsacchi.” “Is there so much money in it?” he asked, after a silence. “Lots!” she answered promptly.

—By Williams

‘‘Do you mean that you are really going to push that young—young camel into society, Pat?” “Exactly that.” “But, my dear, what is there in it for you?” “Money!” the girl answered brazenly. “Yes!” she answered, smiling, but in earnest. “My dear Sid, you know it is. The only people who make light of money are the people who have it.” “You flatter me!” he said dryly. “Ah, well—you! You’re different. And even you have always had the things money can buy, somehow,” she persisted. “Women, I was thinking of. A woman has got to have clothes and carfare and club dues end tips, or she might as well be dead!” "Might better be dead,” he agreed mildly. “Well, I’m not dead,” the girl responded, with new spirit. “It is hard for me, Sid. It's terribly hard. But I’d rather chaperon Pansy Palmer than go into Uncle Paul’s factory at S3O a month, or marry Con Hamilton and watch him drink himself to death.” “You couldn’t go on as you were, by way of alternative?” “Go on as I was? Why, I was in debt,” Patricia protested eagerly. “I was sick with worry. I was respecting Aunt Louise’s command that she was not to be worried, and I was carefully concealing my financial condition from Aunt Annie because money distresses her, and I was cheerfully lying to Christine because Christine always says that she feels that Uncle Aleck, my father, Sid, could have managed it all so differently if he only had been wise enough to take Uncle Paul's advice'” nun THE girl's voice dropped, and she stared for a few seconds at the water with gloomy eyes. “Why, (hey know how I am placed and which one of them ever held out a hand to help me?” she finished, in a low tone, with a sudden glitter on her dark lashes. Sidney had rolled over on his folded arms and was watching her intently. “But if they won't stand for the girl. Pat?” “Oh, they have no choice,” she answered confidently. “I am not in the secrets of the Pages, Chambers and Throckmorton families for nothing!” “You have burst off the reservation and got to the firewater, I can see that!” he said laughing, but with a real concern in his eyes. “To perdition with noblesse oblige, is that it?” “Not exactly,” she hesitated. “But I can't do the thing half-heartedly. Beatrice Palmer is just as nice a girl as any I know', and I intend to prove it. There'll be nothing radical. I don't mean to make any trouble. But I have an idea how to handle my various relatives, where each one's weak spot is, as it were, and I imagine that I can manage them. (To Be Continued)

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

The earthquake had completely barred the tunnel entrance. Groping blindly along the chamber walls, Werper was almost in despair when he stumbled upon another passageway. For an hour he wandered along this damp cor-, ridor until at last he saw an opening far overhead and a patch of sky pinked with brilliant stars. As he stood greedily breathing the crisp air there broke suddenly upon his startled ears a piercing screaxff.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

C BETTER POSTPONE \/ HM THERE \S TIME FOR -, _ . jwm things a pay or two, sun? 1/ nothing. the honorable U AvV ‘‘TX Trawl 601 10 (AAV OUT VLANS FOR A/l CAMPAIGN IS, TO Bs A BIG Url Id I&JXCAMPAIGN, GO-EVERYTHING

SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

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It diminished gradually until it ended in a series of dismal moans. He listened fearfully, but the hideous cry, half human, was not repeated. And then Werper swocned. When he awoke it was daylight and to his immense relief he saw that a flight of stairs led upward across the courtyard in which he had slept—how long he could not guess. Boldly he ascended the steps to find himself in a cirr lar court bathed In brilliant sunlight.

—By Martin

Massive columns towered skyward twined about by clinging vines. Through leafy branches came no sound but the sighing of the wind, the cries of birds, and the chattering of monkeys. There was no sign of human beings. Just before him stood a stone altar, stained with rustybrown discolorations. Soon he was to know their meaning! He saw sever at doors opening into the inclosure and above a sales of open balconies. *

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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f GEE wlri! \ IMPUDENT PIG, C ( HUM*. THIS BEGINS TO HAVE THE Y Th* B'G BUM*. WEU SHOW* A INI VJE DID YOU NOT HEAR. V EARMARKS OF ANOTHER O’ HIS IM-JUST LETTIM TRY EMEN GOT THE MIGHTY EMPEROR) ~— BLASTED PLOTS./ PULLIN' ANY OF HIS OLD TIME TO TELL ) SAY THERE WASTfME BgStttf—— rT\ DIRTY WORK ON US NOW, MARY GOOD/ FOR NOTHING? GET \ 'JJsgpf /CT” / /\ AN' WELL WAECK HIS i BY? Ao YOUR WAR ELEPHANT* | 4M tW L 1 \ WHOLE ARMY. WELL -. <lO IN YOUR ARMV!/ I™ H jY\ \ SURRENDER AN’ JOtN

f VOU NAUGHT V 1 f ILL V { ) CAT'.IWDYOU 1 / BET IV OOGLC/SNOR* | 11 - , *.■<*.***• )

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Little monkeys scampered about the deserted ruins and gay plumaged birds flitted undisturbed among the galleries higher up. Werper felt relieved. He sighed as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He tc-ok a step toward one of the exits, and then he halted, for almost at the same instant a dozen doors opened in the courtyard wall and a horde of frightful men rushed in upon him. They were the priests of God of Oparl

.JULY 25, 1930

—By Ahem

—By Blosser

—By Cra

—By Small

—By Cowan