Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 38, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 June 1931 — Page 9

JUNE 2C1981

TJeMfLiane Jt OU MABEL MCELUQTT /

(Conttnued from Page 1) gesture. “But what can one do about It?’ Cass went back to her machine as Liane clattered through the dishes. "Must have this finished by 2," Cass announced. When the girl came to say goodby a few minutes later her mother looked at her admiringly. “That red thing’s nice orr you," she said of Molly Cronin’s last year’s printed silk. . . Indeed the girl, freshened by cold water and a brushing up, looked surprisingly cool and sweet. Cass sighed again as the young feet tapped down the four flights of stairs. “A shame!” she murmured. The woman gathered up the finished robe and packed it into an old suit box. She cold-creamed her face with religious care, made up with meticulous intenteness, brushed her tarnished hair until it gleamed and pressed It into shining waves about her face. There, that was better! She spent five minutes massaging a stubborn wrinkle between her eyes. She put on a thin dark dress that had a vaguely out-of-date air and a last year’s straw hat. Then she threw a cover of chintz over the sewing machine and drew the shades nearly to the'sill in an effort to thwart the inroads of the relentless afternoon sun. After that she went down into the baking street. Cass tried to look as if carrying the mammoth box were a great joke which she, a whimsical lady, had decided to take on for the afternoon. In the subway she maneuvered it so that it just missed the knees of the perspiring fat man who stood in front of her, swaying as the train shot around bends. The subway was fairly cool these hot days before the heat had time to work its way down under ground and settle for the season. How fresh that girl across the way looked in her pale dress and summer shoes! Something like that Liane should be wearing, instead of Molly Cronin’s kind castoffs. SUMMER is the time, Cass mused, when one needs money more than ever, in winter it is possible t/o keep warm somehow. And cheap food is appetizing then. It is when days are hot and nights stifling that one wants crisp, alluring food. to eat. One wants to dine on a roof, high up, with a view of the river. Oh! sighed Cass, for the millionth time in her life, how difficult it is to be poor! Awful, that’s what It was. She pined for small luxuries, such as linen sheets, changed every day, for English cologne to rub on her burning skin, for sheer stockings and thin, fine underthings. All this she desired not so much for herself as for Liane. After the darkness and chill of the underground the heat of the ashphalt was again a shocking reality. She traversed the few steps to the stage door feeling actually giddy. “I’m not going to be able to stand many more seasons of this,” Cass thought prophetically, “My heart’s not what is used to be.” She felt a chill of fear. Her heart . . . And then, what about Liane? Liane with all the world before her. _ Liane, large-eyed, trusting, and 18. Cass Barrett knew that world well enough to feel that a young girl should not be required to fight it alone. Nevertheless, she entered the stage door with a smile on her lips. It was the smile of the good trouper. Besides, worry made one look old. That was the one thing Cass could not afford to do. Rehearsal had not yet started. She was glad to be early and have time to catch her breath in the dusty coolness. “Got your costume finished?” chirped Elsie Minter, the ingenue, who stood in the wings greedily making away with an ice cream cone. Cass nodded. She opened the box. shook out the yellow folds. "Why, it’s lovely,” Elsie admired, i "You’ve got the—l don’t know—--1 the feeling!” Cass smiled back at her. She liked Elsie. The little thing seemed friendly. There were so many in the New Art. So much i jealousy. You never knew who tyour friends were, but Elsie apIpeared to be genuine. | Cass had been wi fa. Ehe New Art |for three seasons now. It was not f exciting, a sort of stock company I really. But it was safe and sure.

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It meant bread and butter for nine months of the year. She was grateful for that. She hoped she would be asked to come back next season, but—well, she didn’t know. * OB VERNON O’DAY WELLS, the actor-manager, whose pet the New Art theater was, thin, saturnine and iron gray, entered followed by his coterie. As always there was a small stir at his entrance. Nods, bows, sycophantic smiles. The rehearsal began. “Good, Lord, Elsie!” he was imploring a few moments later. “Get a little fire into that, will you? You’re a courtesan, remember, a Florentine woman. You’re jealous. You’re madly, insanely jealous! You’re got blood in your veins, not milk. Let’s have a little fire, a little real feeling. That’s all I ask.” Cass reflected sardonically that it was not hard to believe Vernon had once directed movies. The manner was unmistakable. Cass had been in pictures herself once for a brief space. “Now that’ll be all for today,” Wells boomed presently. “As you all know, we’re closing next week. Haven’t quite shaped up plans for next season, but we’ll talk that over later.” He waved his hand In a signal of dismissal. Cass looked fearfully across at the others. They were all talking, laughing animatedly. Perhaps they had already been asked to sign up for next year. “Miss Barrett Just a minute !” She turned to see Wells’ secretary beckoning her. “Vernon would like to see you up stairs for a minuate.” Cass’ heart beat thickly, pounding so it almost suffocated her. She was being let down, then? Vernon Wells waited just outside the door of his office. He was talking to a woman Cass had never seen before. A big, high-bosomed woman wearing an old style white embroidered dress. “Ah, Miss Barrett! Mrs. Cleespaugh was anxious to talk to you,” Vernon was saying. Cass fumbled for a chair. Those stars had made her giddy again. The old faintess was coming to overwhelm her. "Feeling the heat,” she managed to mumble. If only she could keep from making a fool of herself before these people. Who was this Mrs. Cleespaugh, with her jewel-studded handbag and the ridiculous emerald brooch on her preposterous bosom? "Mr. Wells has been helping us with our little theater group out at Willow Stream,” the lady began pompously. “He is directing the company there for the summer and we wondered if you would care to join us. I admired,” said Mrs. Cleespaugh, "so much your performance in Romeo and Juliet.” Willow Stream! Like a cinema flashback Cass saw the tree-shaded lanes and blue waters of that little jewel-like Long Island village. It would mean all the difference between life and death for her to have this summer at Willow Stream. What was it the doctor had said? "Ought to get out of the city at any cost.” And she had smiled at him ironically, paying her bill. But what about Liane? How could she leave her?

MRS. CLEESPAUGH was babbling on. She spoke of art as a high calling and mentioned S4O a week with infinite casualness. Well, though Cass, it was not much, but it was enough. There would be shaded lanes to walk in of mornings, salt air to breathe deeply. Oh, it was more than enough! ' Cass stood up presently. Her own voice sounded unreal to her. “It’s too marvelous,” she said, unsteadily. “It sounds really perfect.” Even her laughter sounded nervous, brittle. “I hope I can have my daughter with me,” she hazarded. “I should be so glad to have her out of the town heat for the summer.” “Oh, about Liane,” said Wells, seeming to remember. “There will have to be a double box office staff at Willow Stream. We have a girl engaged for the afternoons, but I wondered if Liane might not take over the job in the evenings.” “She’s inexperienced, but I’m sure she could manage it ” Cass told him. “Liane?” Mrs. Cleesbaugh’s magisterial dark eyes sought Cass’. “My child. She’s 18,” Cass explained, with that surging of pride which always accompanied her explanation. Going home she found the city

almost endurable in the receding sunlight. It was easier to be philosophic about the heat wave when one was shortly moving to the country. She looked at all the bright, clean little shops almost fondly as she passed them. The cheap, effective little dresses in shop windows. Purple and yellow and scarlet sports things. Hats which were so* nearly like the creations of Agnes and Descat and Suzanne Talbot. The specious Jewelry and shapely, glittering, small shoes. All seemed a promise of better days to come. Cass stopped at a butcher shop near home and bought three lamb chops. Two for Liane, that growing girl. She hummed as she unlocked the door of the apartment. There was a note on the table. It said, “Liane has gone to dinner with me and some friends. Back about 10.” It was signed Molly Cronin. The spark died in Cass Barrett’s heart. She sat down, tired, like an old, old woman. Liane out with Molly and her crowd! She didn’t like it. Molly did well enough as a neighbor, but for Liane to accept her as an intimate hurt Cass cruelly. Molly with her hennaed hair and scarlet fingertips, her laissez-faire. "Some friends.” Cass shuddered at this phrase, remembering the men who usually passed her on the stairs looking for Molly’s flat. Bookmakers in checked suits with huge, synthetic stones in their neckties. Hard-looking individuals, wearing green hats. “How could Liane!” Cass murmured to herself. Poor child, it was easy to see why she had gone. • Liane had no friends in New York. Molly probably has offered a good time as bait, dancing, delicious food. a a a CASS set drearily about the business of cooking her chop. She put the other two in the ice box for the next day. All the spice had gone out of her own good news now. She ate, washed up, and began to get ready to return to the theater. How strange and silent the flat seemed without the child! She was putting on her hat when the doorbell rang. Three long peals. Cass answered and stood there shaking as a boy in uniform handed her a note. It read: “Dear Mother: Please come at once to 24th street. I need you. LIANE.” . Cass thought her heart would burst before she reached the subway station. Five steps down, turn, seven steps more. Ah, there was a train just pounding in! Somehow she got the nickel into the slot, somehow she crowded through the turnstile. And now she was praying—ah, Gojl, help me to get there! Help me to get there in time! All the dreadful things she had j ever heard of, all the tragic news-! paper stories of tragic happenings i involving young girls, came into I her poor, tortured mind. The other 1 passengers saw only a young-old j woman in a plain blue dress, a woman who twisted her handker- i chief until it tore. Now Cass was in she street, running, running. “Oh, God, why does my heart pound so! My little girl!” It was a shabby brownstone house in front of which she presently stood, a house as like as possible to others in that row. There had been, she could see, some confusion, now being cleared away. A small knot of loiterers. In a boy’s mouth, the word “ambulance.” Her knees sagged. She said, timorously, to the officer at the door: “I—l’m Mrs. Barrett. I had a message from my daughter, to come to this address.” A worn face studied her keenly, somehow kindly. "Ye’ll find her back there,” said this officer, pointing his big thumb toward the interior of the house. Cass went in. She had never been in such a place. (To Be Continued)

lliigii 1 & jE The lines above designate roaiis. Can you devise a series of routes from each letter to the corresponding one so that no route crosses another route? i-y

Answer for Yesterday

0 - —e X* a o <► \XX/ ° ° ■<> yyy\ <i <> •■lt- 0 -—•——* n The illustration shows how all the dots may be struck out in 12 straight moves, starting and ending at the large dots.

TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

“Tarzan ol the Apes is displeased with you," the ape-man said to the blacks. "You have brought white men into my country to kill mv people. Those of you who wish to live will listen and do as Tarzan commands. You,” he addressed the head man, "shall accompany the young Bawana. He is my guest and may do as pleases. You,” he said to the second leader, "are to escort this other man to railhead without delay." X

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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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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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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“Do not fail me,” concluded the ape-man. “Remember always that Tarzan watches and never forgets.” He turned to the white men. Blake,” he said, “start when you please. And you,” he addressed Stimbol. “Will be taken directly out of the country by the shortest route.” Stimbol’s wrath was unbound. He declared he wffildr.’t stir a step. An hour later he found Ixbself alone in the deserted camp.

—By Ahem

Later in the day his courage failed him and he set out to follow the long line of porters and AskarL Though he was convinced at last, that the ape-man was supreme in the jungle, Stimbol’s head was full of plans for revenge. Tarzan. wishing to see that his instructions were carried out, had swung far ahead and was waiting in a tree that overhufit the trail along which Stim- . bol must pass. “

- OUT OUR WAY

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f f Ov\, l DUNNO ABOUT That. VOU’RE N / AND NOW TO SETTLE SOME OtD \ i ElttlNO OLD, DAVUSOM VOO'RE Too } j SCORES. NOU BUMt I BEEN WAMIM’ —. “bLowi on the dsavo. J \ a conCj Time For this oppoeTuNiry, vL u WCA SIPV'CC. J ‘ ‘ s£**c*-

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

in a > In the distance he heard the inarching Safari. Heard also, that something was approaching down the trail in the opposite direction. The ape-man could not see it but he knew what it was. Above the tree tops, black clouds roiled low, but no air stirred in the jungle. A great, shaggy creature came down the trail. From his leafy perch Tarzan haded it as it came in sight.. "BQlgani,T he called in low tones.

PAGE 9

—By Williams

—By Blesses

—By Crano

—By Small

—By Martin: