Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 259, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 March 1931 — Page 14

PAGE 14

MAD MARK ACL* 17 \r\U I \f\W r\ / vo fcr ssgfe 1 fy LAI9RA LOU BROOKMAN Author of'iIEART HUNGWetc.

BEGIN HEBE TODAY GYPSY McBRIDE. 19-year-old typist W?J*UEi?i.U! e .. bo * t hlch 1 bringing %BAH CROSBY home from a year ana % half m Pari* The couple are not en- *•***!, but there has been an understanding between them. On the pier the girl sees a beautiful worn an waving to Crosby. He says she ! MRS. LANGLEY, a ship's acquaintance. The couple drive to MRS. O' HARE'S roaming house, where a celebration honoring the young artist has been preoared. Just as the dinner Is to be •ef\ea Crosby makes a telephone call and returns to say he must leave at once. He goes to Mrs. Langley’s lavish apartment and agrees to attend a dinner party with her. Two nights later Crosby breaks a dinner engagement with Gypsy, explaining he is spending the evening with business associates. Gypsy goes to the theater alone and encounters Crosby and Mrs. < Langley In the arter-theater crowd. There is a "cone Mrs. Langley drives off In her oar and Oypey and Crosbv go home In a tajcl, quarreling all the away. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER SIX She heard him coming up the ■oalra. Gypsy, In her own room one floor above, leaned against the door and listened to the slow, familiar footsteps as they neared the third floor landing. There was a pause. Gypsy listened, heard the door op*n and close, and then the house was still again. There was nothing bub the half-heard, muffled dance tune from the Jenkins’ second floor radio. She waited a little longer. The radio was whining a morose and time-worn tune. Gypsy recalled the title, "Can’t We Be Friends?” One of those songs of blighted love. Suddenly she forgot she hated Alan Crosby and never wanted to sea his face again. Tears blinded her. She made her way to the bed, sank upon it and hid her face i n the pillows. m a a AT 10 o’clock the following morning Clara Howard, looking blond and fragile in a. new blue crape, paused negligently beside Gypsy’s desk. "Lend me your nail file, will you darting?” she asked sweetly. Gypsy opened her puree, took out the file and handed it to her. Miss Howard scrutinized her own deeply tlned finger tips, carefully shaping one rosy nail more to her liking. "Thanks,” she drawled as she laid the file on the desk. Gypsy glanced up. "Why, Gypsy!” the other girl exclaimed. "What in the world is the matter? You’re looking positively frightful. Aren’t you well?” "I’m all right.” "But those circles under your eyes—and you’re so pale!” "I’m all right,” Gypsy repeated. "Didn’t sleep very well—that’s all.” Fate chose that precise Instant for Elizabeth Tuttle to appear in the doorway. "Miss Mcßride,” the office executive spoke crisply, “when you can leave your work, will you come into this office, please?”

GYPSY collected the work on her desk and arose. .‘‘l’ll come right away, Miss Tuttle,” she said. What was it that had gone wrong now? As well to get the ordeal over. Gypsy followed the older woman into the adjoining office. It was a tiny room with barely space for Miss Tuttle’s desk, two chairs and a wooden cabinet. It was always used for hiring, discharging, and for those interviews which gained impressiveness by the office executive’s brisk “Come into my private office!” Still puzzling over what could be wrong, Gypsy entered the room. “Close the door, will you!” Miss Tuttle said, with what seemed forced brightness. There had never been any great friendship between these two. Miss Tuttle six months previously had been transferred from the bookkeeping department. She was thoroughly impressed with her own Importance. The transfer w r as a promotion and Miss Tuttle energetically had instituted “efficiency measures”—to the irritation of Gypsy and others accustomed to the old routine. Clara Howard and one or two of the other typists had won preferment by flattery. Gypsy, on the other' hand, had a reputation for independence. “Sit down, Miss Mcßride,” the older woman motioned toward the only chair. Gypsy tat down. And it was at that moment she realized what was to come. Those figures she had typed Saturday—the directors’ report! She had failed to check them and now an error had been discovered. Her mind whirled as she thought of consequences. Miss Tuttle leaned back in her chair, folding her hands upon the desk. It was an attitude which

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HORIZONTAL 1 What poet’s non Is justice of the D. S. Supreme Court? Where W* the “Bridge of Sighs”? It Opposite of aweathcr. 12 Tiny vegetable. 14 Verbal. 15 Morsel. IS Turin crystal. IS Silkworm. It Structural unit. SO Longs. SS To accomplish. SS Feline animal. 24 Negative. SS To tire. 27 Social insect. SS Pate.

31 Club. 32 Buttresses. 34 Bird. 36 Upon. 37 Macaws. 30 Road. 40 Marbles. 41 Story. 43 Relish. 43 Mallet. 47 City in Ohio. 48 To feel regret.

eBTOI ahUti

meant the interview had begun. "How long have you been with the MacNamara company?” she asked. ‘‘Two and a half years.” The older woman’s nod was busi-ness-like. She had not asked the question for Information. She had known exactly how long Gypsy had worked at MacNamara's. "You are probably aware,” Miss Tuttle continued, "that your record of service is longer than any of the other typists In this department?” ‘‘Yes.’’ Why couldn’t Tuttle break the bad news and be through with it? Was she actually enjoying this delay? mat i Evidently the discussion was not to be hurried. Miss Tuttle hesitated, cleared her throat and then went on: "One of the policies which I wish to enforce,” she said, "is to base advancement upon length of service. It Is, I believe, recognized that this makes for efficiency. You are in line for the next promotion.” Gypsy said nothing, waiting. "Mr. Reynolds’ secretary is leaving the first of next week,” Miss Tuttle continued. "I believe you can do the work and have recommended you for the place. Mr. Reynolds will give you some letters to test your speed at dictation this afternoon.” "Why, Miss Tuttle—you mean—!” "There will be an advance of $2 a week after you have shown that you can do the work satisfactorily.” Still Gypsy hardly could believe her ears. There was a pause. Evidently Miss Tuttle was expecting some word of appreciation. "I hope you’re pleased, Miss McBride,” she said a trifle stiffly. "Oh—oh, yes. Thank you. It’s a big surprise. I—well, I wasn’t expecting anything like this. It’s—lt certainly Is a surprise!” "I’ll let you know when Mr. Reynolds is ready. It will probably be about 3 o’clock.” Gypsy understood she was dismissed. She also sensed that she had Incurred displeasure. "It’s awfully nice of you to give me this chance, Miss Tuttle,” she said, rising. "I only hope you Justify my recommendation.” The tilt of Miss Tuttle’s head Indicated that Gypsy was to return to her work. She went back to the outer office. “What happened?” Jean Foster tried to keep her voice down, but Gypsy was aware the others were listening. “Nothing.” "Was Tuttle sore about anything? Did she bawl you out?” Gypsy shook her head. Jean sighed with relief. "Well, that’s great! Gosh—l’ve been sitting here shivering. "Know what I thought? I was just sure it was something to do with those figures we copied the other day. "You remember—when you were in a hurry to meet your boy friend! Say—if I’d gotten you in bad, I’d never have forgiven myself.” "Don’t worry any longer,” Gypsy told her. She placed a fresh sheet of paper in her typewriter. Apparently intent on getting the sheet just right, Gypsy kept one eye on Clara Howard. There was a pause. Then Gypsy added casually, “Mr. Reynolds’ secretary is quitting and they’re offered me the job.” "Gypsy—how marvelous!” There were generai congratulations.' The other girls who had tried to conceal the fact they were listening now gathered around Gypsy’s desk.

There were excited comments. A promotion would mean anew girl—some one to take Gypsy’s place. Were there going to be other changes? Wasn’t she thr lied? “Just look at her!” Jean exclaimed. “We’re all excited and Gypsy’s calm as a judge. Would you ever think she’d just got a raise? And a swell-looking boss like Mr. Reynolds too! Say, Gypsy, you certainly are the lucky girl!” b a a GYPSY tried to answer their questions and turn aside the jokes. In a sets minutes the others were at their desks again and she was able to go on with her typing. Her fingers, she discovered, were clumsy. “Lucky girl,” was what Jean had called her. Lucky? Os course. Wasn’t she going to get a raise? The job she had hoped for without

VERTICAL 1 Practice!. 2 Fetid. 3 To rent. 4 Myself. 5 Spread of an arch. 6 Glade. 7 Nay. 8 Wrath. 9 Ace. 10 President emeritus of

YESTERDAY'S ANSWER

much encouragement for over & year? Lucky? Os course she was lucky? Gypsy hit the wrong key and tried to erase the damage. It left a smudged spot. Five letters—all capitals—ranged themselves before her eyes. They danced on the fresh white expanse of paper and screamed at her. The letters would not go away. “LUCKY” they leered at her. "LUCKY!” She never had felt more unlucky in her life. Gypsy was not given to tears. Emotional in other respects, she seldom cried. Now she frowned at the notes to be copied and slowly, deliberately continued typing. It was hard work, because she could not keep her attention from roving. How could she possibly feel lucky after that quarrel with Alan? What war. a job, a raise in salary or anything else, compared with knowing Alan hated her and never wanted to see her again? The typewriter keys were behaving queerly. Gypsy wondered if she would ever get through the morning. She still could see Alan’s white face and hear the scorching tone of his voice. Oh, there was no doubt that she had ruined every chance to make him care for her again! When lunch time came Gypsy was behind with the morning’s work, but she rose from her desk with relief. She was glad of the chance to get away from the prying looks of her neighbors. Os course, they knew something was wrong. Even when they were congratulating her about the new job, they must have seen she was miserable. Clara Howard had mentioned circles beneath her eyes. Well —let them talk!

Gypsy went to the locker room for her coat and hat, pausing an instant before the mirror. She did look a fright. Automatically she drew the vanity case from her purse and dabbed her nose with powder. It was not a great improvement. Downstairs at the drug store counter she lunched on a sandwich and cup of coffee. It was all she could eat. Even the coffee, which was always appetizing, did not tempt her. Twenty minutes remained of her lunch hour after she had finished eating. Gypsy decided to walk. She went out of the building, joining the throng on the sidewalk. The air was cool, but there was sunshine. Gypsy walked briskly. Twice she had to wait for traffic. Six blocks from the office building she turned and retraced her steps. an* 'T'HE exercise was stimulating and gradually the girl felt her courage revive. She would see Alan tonight and apologize. She would swear that she was sorry—shoulder all the blame. Not one word would she say about the other woman—Mrs. Langley. All that she would ask would be for Alan to forget their quarrel and remain friends. It was amazing how this resolution improved her spirits. Gypsy, back at work, could scarcely wait for the afternoon to pass. She suddenly was herself again, energetic and eager. At a little after 3 Mr. Reynolds was ready for the dictation. The girl took her stenographic pad and went to the office at the far end of the corridor. Reynolds was one of the youngest men in the organization. He was a nephew of a member of the firm. Gypsy never had spoken to him. She knocked at the open door and the young man at the desk looked up. "Miss Mcßride?” he asked. “Won’t you come in?” Gypsy entered, took the chair he motioned toward. “Miss Tuttle said you wanted to dictate,” she said. (To Be Continued)

STICKERS 22222.2222 Can you (ill in nine digits, in place of i- \ ] the question marks, in such a way that | [ the number formed by the first three will 1 he one-third of the last three and the cen- X | tral three the result of subtracting the first * three from the last three?

Tom tears his 4 Jacket 1 every <*ey, Which - makes his mother* patch and sevJj . 86 1 she ftwivey . his * reckless pTaqj "&oys will eovs. f YOU knovU/V I . vih -* ______ The four missing words were “BOYS jf WILL BE BOYS,” and they complete | the poem, as shown above.

TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION

Harvard. 13 Graf Zeppelin’s commander. 16 Door rug. 17 Eagle. 20 Ugly, old woman. 21 To plant. 23 Pussy. 25 Beret. 26 Ventilator. 27 Melodies. 28 To jog. 80 Neither. 31 To brag. 32 Struck with the paw. 83 Platform* 35 Mature person. 37 Step. *8 To hit. 4® Sesame. 42 First wom—h 44 River. 46 Type measure.

Answer for Yesterday

Cadj and his frightful warriors warily trailed the white man and his blacks. Armed with great clubs and knives they made no haste, preferring to attack at night. About noon they halted suddenly, having discovered a thorn boma recently constructed in a clearing ahead of them. • A spy returned saying the camp was empty. Entering, beside a dying fire they came upon the figure of a man, lying huddled upon the ground. With utmost caution they crawled close and Cadj, the high priest, saw before him the apparently lifeless figure of Tarzan of the Apes.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

SALESMAN SAM

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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“The FI am in" God. has at length decided to avenge hls desecrated aitar,” cried Cadj exultantly, his eyes flaming with fanaticism. Another priest knelt beside the figure of the apeman and placed his ear against the latter’s heart. “He is not dead,” he whispered, “perhaps he only sleeps,” “Seize him then—quickly!” cried Cadj. An instant later Tarzan’s body was covered with as many hairy forms as could pile themselves upon him. He offered no resistance —did not even open his eyes. In a trice he was bound hand and foot.

—By Ahern

“Drag him forth where the eye of the Flaming God may rest upon him,” cried Cadj. Into the full light of the sun they brought Tarzan. The high priest drew his knife and stood over the prostrate form of his intended victim. His followers appeared uneasy, casting furtive glances at the sun riding high in a cloudmottled sky. Then one priest, braver than the others, spoke: “Cadj.” he said, “who are you to offer a sacrifice to the Flaming God? It is the privilege alone of La. the high priestess and our queen. Great will be her wrath when she learns what you have done.”

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“Silence, Dooth!” commanded Cadj. “I, Cadj. am high priest. My word, too, ife law in Opar.” Kneeling beside the ape-man he poised his sharp blade high above Tarzan’s heart. As the downward stroke was about to fall, a shadow fell on all about. A murmur rose straightway from the surrounding priests. That instant a cloud had passed before the face of the sun, and the shadow rested upon them, growing darker and darker. The men shivered and drew back from the unconscious ape-man and hls would-be slayer, “Look!” cried Dooth, “the Flaming God is angry, He has hidden his face from Opar!

-ARCH 10, 1931

—By Williamß

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin