Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 123, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 October 1930 — Page 8

PAGE 8

t)UT OUR WAY

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BEGIN HERE TODAY CELIA MITCHELL. 17. faces anew life when she leaves the home In Baltimore, where she has lived with her seamstress mother. MARGARET ROGERS, to Join her father. JOHN MITCHELL, and her Grandmother la a stately New York wellink. The air! had not even known her father was living until the day he came to the Baltimore apartment. Celia had supposed 808 ROGERS, who was killed In an accident, her mother's second husband, to be her father. Mitchell offers the srlrl a life of wealth and Immediately everything changes. She leaves her mother, unaware that Mrs. Rogers is seriously 111. and she leaves BARNEY SHIELDS, young newspaper photographer, who swears that some dav he and Celia will be married. The girl Is lonely and ill at ease In her new home. Mitchell finds here In tears and Is worried. He calls on MRS. EVELYN PARSONS, a beautiful widow whose husband was Mitchell’s close friend. Mrs. Parsons agrees to introduce Celia to the right set of young people. It is obvious she Is interested in the girl as a means to gain Mitchell's affections. To this end She invites Celia to spend A week-end at her Long Island home. Just as thev are leaving a servant presses something into Celia s hand. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER SEVENTEEN THE motor car turned into a wooded lane and ahead, set well back from the road. Celia saw a large white house. Mrs. Parsons waved a hand toward it. "It looks lovely!’’ Celia murmured. "I’m fond of it. This is where all my happiest hours have been SB§J L” Evelyn Parsons’ voice seemed so sincere, so sweetly brave that sympathy welled in the girl’s heart. She had been told that Mrs. Parsons was a recent widow. And she had no idea that practically every visitor to Larchwood had heard the same speech about Evelyn's ‘‘happiest hours.’’ "The house was named for this double row of trees.” Mrs. Parsons explained. “It was built by Dwight’s father years ago.” Celia, feeling she was in the presence of grief, remained silent. The car swung into the driveway. Close-out rolling lawn stretched to either side and beyond, shading the rambling colonial house. There were hcjlyhocks, larkspurs and other old-fashioned flowers at each side of the entrance. Green and white striped awnings covered the windows. Larchwood appeared delightfully hospitable. "What a beautiful home!” Celia Mitchell exclaimed. She was contrasting it mentally with the dignified Mitchell town house. Mrs. Parsons smiled. The chauffeur was holding the door of the car back for the two to descend. Mrs. Parsons gave him instructions about the baggage and then led the way to the house. A maid in becoming green uniform opened the door. "Good morning. Hilda. Have there been any telephone messages this morning?” "No. ma'am.” “Good! Celia., Hilda will show you to your room and whenever you're ready, my dear, we ll have luncheon. There are one or two housekeeping tasks I must attend to. Shall we say luncheon at 1:30?” ‘‘Oh. yes—any time. You mustn’t bother about me—” "Not the slightest bother! Take Miss Mtichell upstairs, Hilda.” Celia followed the maid. She was conducted to a cool and airy bedroom on the second floor. The room was brightly furnished in early American style with an oldfashioned four-posted bed. small, colorful rugs, chairs and a high chest of walnut. There were ruffled white tie-back curtains at the windows and a blue pottery bowl of daisies and snap dragons stood on a small table. a a a HILDA departed and Celia made sure that the door closed securely behind her. Now that she was alone the girl seemed excited. For an instant she listened at the door, then swung herself on the bed. drawing from her Jacket a crumpled object It was a letter. I "Miss Celia Mitchell. East One Ihundred twenty-first street. New ■gork,” the address read. The hand-■-riting appeared to be familiar. ■Tien she pressed the envelope to per heart. She flung her head pack, smiling ecstatically. 9 Quickly Celia ripped the envelope ■open and drew forth the folded ■sheets. The smile vanished. Celia gkea dfeverishly: Im-Dear Celia—it was certainly a i|igh break that was handed to me Saturday. Do you know where I ikwhen your train pulled out? sflLway to Glen Burnie chasing m-k. the guy who escaped from IMigigkttentiary last week. No. we !|fret him, but it v.as an excltkS^emoon. |HHyi see, I heti everything lined fUfH l could finish W>y Satur-

day. Bradford was supposed to take my assignments after 3 o'clock. "I was just about ready to beat it when the tip came in. Morgan yelled at me and said, ‘You take this, Shields.’ Well, of course there wasn’t any use arguing. I didn’t even have time to bluff. "Casey went with me. It was a private tip to the city editor that Park could be found at a house out there where a girl lives he used to be seen with before he was sent up. "All the papers in town have been playing the Park story all week. It seemed like a hot lead*, and we sure burned up the road. Well—that’s about all there is to tell. It turned out there wasn’t any such house number, and after two hours we decided there wasn’t any such girl either. “Finally when we called the office Morgan decided the whole thing was phoney. There was my afternoon gone—and you gone, too! "I called up your mother that evening, but I guess she didn’t get my message. Anyhow, I wasn’t able to see her until last night, and that’s why I couldn’t write before. "She gave me the address. I hope you’ve been having a fine time in New York, and that your new relatives improve on acquaintance. I haven’t got the raise yet. “If it isn’t on this week’s pay check guess I’ll have to have another session with the M. E. "There isn’t anything else to tell you except that it seems about a million years since you were here. It isn’t any fun driving alone evenings. # "Looks like a long summer ahead. I certainly was sorry not to be able to say goodby at the station. Hope you’ll write soon and tell me you haven’t forgotten a certain evening I have in mind. Believe me, I haven't. It's awfully lonesome here, Honey. Lots of love, “BARNEY.”

There was a rustle of motion in the hallway. Celia Mitchell, intent on the letter, did not hear it. The sound was repeated; then there came a knock at the door. The glow faded from Celia’s cheeks. She stood up, backing away from the door and jamming the pages into her pocket. "Who's there?” she demanded. "Your luggage, ma’am.” * a a SHE recognized the chauffer's voice. Celia breathed a sigh of relief and then said: “Bring the bags in.” The interruption reminded the girl that downstairs Mrs. Parsons would be waiting. Already it was a quarter after 1. She could not resist, however, reading the last two paragraphs of Barney's letter again before she folded it and hid it away in her purse. Then with a hasty pat at her hair and a dab of powder on her nose she was ready for luncheon. She and Mrs. Parsons were the only two present for the meal. The other guests, Mrs. Parsons said, would arrive that afternoon and evening. The house seemed even larger, viewed from the interior, than outside. Off the entrance hall there was a huge living room with a fireplace, bookcases and a great many comfortable overstuffed chairs. The dining room on the other side of the house, had broad windows looking out over the garden. Celia glimpsed other rooms opening from these. She was particularly pleased with the wide porch reached by French windows in the living room. Surely if the house had been built long ago Evelyn Parsons had done much to modernize it. "You must do just whatever you like this afternoon,” Evelyn said as dessert _was being served. “Kate and Lisi Duncan are driving over with Walter Carr. They'll be here any time. Eva and Courtney Brooks promised to come by tea time. They're not really much older thajn th? rest of the crowd, though they’ve been married three years. E.'e used to be Eve Carpenter. Courtney dabbles at being an a tist, and they spend as much time abroad as they do here. By the way. I understand you and your grandmother are going to France in September.” “Yes.” Celia said. “I can hardly believe It. though.” “How I'd love to be the one to show you Paris!” ° “Oh. Mrs. Parsons—that would be wonderful!” The older woman smiled.

—By Williams

“I’m glad you think so. We are going to be friends, aren’t we, Celia dear? Good friends!” Celia felt she should proclaim loudly that this was true. The situation called for it. And yet infrequently—but at this particular moment—Celia Mitchell was aware of a sharp, uneasy distrust of Evel5 r n Parsons. It was almost as though the lovely widow was too sweet, too eager to befriend her. After such moods passed Celia always was ashamed of them. "I—appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” she answered now. “I want to be friends, Mrs. Parsons.” a a a Evelyn parsons patted the girl’s hand. "Sweet child!” she said. “Isn't it fine your father is going to be able to come down tomorrow? He’s such a slave to his work, poor man! I suppose that’s the price of brilliance.” Again Celia felt that twinge of doubt. She gazed up at her hostess and encountered serenely blue eyes, smiling lips surely incapable of deceit. Celia banished her fears and branded them evil. • But though Mrs. Parsons had insisted the girl should choose her own entertainment, she kept her young guest beside her throughout the afternoon. There was no opportunity for Celia to slip away and write the letter she was so eager to send. Instead she inspected the garden with Mrs. Parsons, drove to the village with Mrs. Parsons and finally welcomed guests with Mrs. Parsons. A good share of this time (though Celia did not notice it), was devoted to conversation concerning John Mitchell. The Duncan girls and Walter Carr came late. It developed they had stopped to see some tennis matches. Eve and Courtney Brooks drove up at 4 o'clock in a handsome car of foreign make. Jimmy Webster, who joked a great deal about his career as a young bond salesman, did not arrive until just before dinner. There was one other guest. Celia noticed his dark hair and erect shoulders the minute he appeared. She was sitting at the far side of the living room. She saw Evelyn go forward to meet him with outstretched hand, but she could not hear Evelyn’s words. The tall youth with the dark hair bent his head. He had understood perfectly. "Which one is she?” he asked. (To Be Continued) Bus to Carry Delegation B (/ Times S uncial MUNCIE, Ind., Oct. I.—Muncle’s American Legion drum and bugle corps, composed of forty-nine men, will leave early Saturday morning for the national convention at Boston. The veterans will make the trip by bus. They will be guests of a legion post near Boston. Muncie Club Elects Bv Times Snccial MUNCIE, Ind., Oct. I.—Russell Isenbarger, banker, has been elected president of the Chamber of Commerce Dynamo Club.

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

Behind him Werper could hear the voice of Achmet Zek crying to him to halt, but Werper only urged his panting horse to greater speed. Two hundred yards within the ftrest a broken branch lay across the trail. It was a small thing that a horse ordinarily could easily jump* but Werper's mount was jaded, his feet heavy with . weariness, and as the branch caught between his front legs 'he stumbled, was unable to recover himself, and went down, sprawling in the tra^

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

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Werper, going over his head, rolled a few yards farther on. scrambled to his feet and ran back. Seizing the reins he tugged to drag the beast to his feet, but the animal would not or could not rise, and as the Belgian cursed and struck at him Achmet Zek appeared in view. Instantly the Belgian ceased his efforts with the horse, and seizing his rifle dropped behind his horse and fired at the oncoming Arab. The bullet, going low, merely struck the Arab’s horse, bringing it down close Jk> Werper, again preparing to fire.

—By Martin

Achmet Zek. who had gone down with his mount, was standing astride it, and seeing the Belgian’s strategic position behind his fallen horse, lost no time in taking up a similar one behind his own. And there the two lay, alternately firing and cursing each other, while from behind the Arab, Tarzan of the Apes approached to the edge of the forest. Here he heard the occasional shots of the duelists and choosing the safer and Swifter means of approach. rather than his winded Abyssinian pony, he took to Lie trees.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Keeping to one side of the trail the ape-man came to a point where he could look aown upon the fighters. First one and then the other would raise himself, fire and drop flat behind hit breastwork of horseflesh. Werper had but little ammunition. He realized that soon he would have used his last bullet and would be at the mercy of the Arab. He cast around for some plan of escape, and the only one that seemed to have — even a remote possibility of success hinged ijpon the chance of bribing Achmet Zek.

OCT. 1. If

—By Ahei

—By B losser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan