Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 52, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 July 1931 — Page 16

PAGE 16

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r,.v, TODAY . BARRETT. just out of the oTsa n R*R^ hted wh * n her mother. nt.r 8 • BARRETT, an actress. rocs to E>V, SKSfcolS? ,n * U !SS! *HAN f *d b *v shooting. r’vL.cDpiMlD policemen In charge. Liane. That nlßht a mvsh, ,tt2P r c f n * the K |rl >v name of and she leels th< flutter •,?£" an . e t ,.. , f e6e U nld t * lls her the oeakf ?*T victii is recovering. much to BLBIB MINTER. the rs riori* T& t £ odurf * Liane **> CLIVE patroness OH ‘ ,on of l h theater* t LADD, debutante. Invites ♦ h2 n t. * °® rt y and there she meets H)* ‘‘andsome stranger. VAN ROBARD J?™, Cass hears hla name, she bees *l r J never to see him again. .hY?? ,R i? oT . e * L, ? nc for a blt Later he shows affection for her. She goes with s>*m#Jß- e rchln,!! for Muriel and CHUCK DEMOND. reporter, who are untrue** t 0 * lavc e ' oDed - This Droves Later Liane hears Rossln about RoaDd MBS. LADD Cass mystifies J'**d* bv her silence about her sister LUISA, whose picture the Rlrl discovers >n an old trunk. Liane Roes to stav with the Cleespaußhs and encounters Robard She hears he Is engaged to Muriel Ladd and Is heart-broken. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FOURTEEN (Continued) The knob of the door began to turn. Like one searching the face ' of the imnipotent for a sign of relenting. the two girls gazed at the iron gray man who emerged. “How is she?” gasped Liane. Slowly the man shook his head. “Not too bad.” His tone held a professional cheerfulness, meaningless, more terrifying than gloom. The girl felt he had spoken thus to a dozen anxious watchers. “May I go in to see her now?” His look probed her. “If you’ll promise not to disturb her—” She actually promised. She would Allow oe tear to flow. man THE still figure on the bed moved ever so slightly. There was a low moan and the nurse moved swiftly to her patient’s side. Alert she stood there, then turned, finger on lip, to sign the watcher with her to silence. “Just the same,” she murmured. Liane looked up quickly, hopefully, at the movement. But at the nurse’s words the girl’s pallor deepened. She settled again in her chair, her eyes never leaving the quiet figure under the coverlet. Cass was quiet now. Before she had been delirious and that had been awful. “She mustn’t die—she won’t die —she can’t!” This Liane repeated over and over to herself as if it were a magic litany to chain Cass’ sprit. “She mustn’t! She won’t!” Thus the girl had prayed, had hoped, all the long day. She had been at the hospital for three days, now, and the awaited crisis failed to arrive. At night she dreaded going with Elsie back to the hotel. She lay, long hours, in the darkness, every nerve straining for the telephone message she felt sure would come. In the dawn she would rise, with shaking fingers dash the icy water into her red-rimmed eyes. Exhausted, she would dress, wait for the hour when she might creep to her mother’s side. It was all terrible, trrible. She had not known before what anguish could be. a a tt CHAPTER FIFTEEN SHE searched the faces of the nurses and doctors for a sign. “They’re monsters, all of them,” she thought stonily. Young as she was, untried, she thought their cheerfulness in the face of their certain defeat too horrible. She did not realize they grappled daily with that enemy." Death. And sometimes won. Poor child, thought the tall nurse, as she moved briskly, capably about. Poor child, she has a lot to learn. Aloud she said in a low voice which Liane resented for its matter-of-factness, “You must go out now and get some lunch. Can’t have another patient, you know.” She even smiled. Liane shuddered at the thought of food. Food when her darling mother was so removed from the urgencies and necessities of daily living! Never! “Oh, God—oh, dear God,” she prayed wildly, bitterly, “spare her to me this time, at least. I’ll be so good, so awfully, awfully good. “What You want of me, I’ll do. I’ve been vain, selfish. I’ve not given her what she ought to have.

HORIZONTAL VESTERDAY’S ANSWER 12 Convention. 1 River outlet of Jsll-iIOIPI IHIEIAIDISI IMOISfTl 16 A Wowthe Great UAVE 11 Inldl I IAI OL LA 17 Diagonal. Lakes. EVER R oIqIsIT P Tiu S lB Prostrateu 9 Milkman's DER I D E rMhIA NS O M S 20 Muddle. • handcart. ARMSMnE 21 Smut rubbed 13 To lend. |h|A|R|E MHO L Djjg P RIAtTIEI 14 Above. A R O WtelG U A RlDlfi A C O R 22 Subsided. 15 Near. Imleltle RMS K TWE nItIEIRI 23 Lofty self-> 16 Conjunction. EAbEBON respect. 17 Puffed. IDIEIcLA PODHB U D GlElTlSl 2 * Twinge. 18 To make glad. JolPlE N”REALS RA^E 25 Curve. 19 Southeast ODIN T TENET A S A 2B Conspiracies. 20 Deportment, amTss □ fft 27T0 bandage. 21 To moan. IQIvJ-LBl \AW | PRI iPJfc-lEITUs To show off a 22 Oceans. hypnotism. VERTICAL social celebrity. 23 Haughty. 35 # To inscribe. ITo cut in long 29 Emissaries 24 3.1416. 36*Chilliness. slits. 30 Law. 25 Lowest part 38 Worries. 2 Vocal sound. 32 Sinned. in harmony. 39 Government 3 Boy. 33 To dangle. 26 Figured ma- allowance to 4 Variant of 35 Bet terial. unemployed. “a.” 36 Animal similar 27 Curse. 40 Exclamation 5 Parts in to the racoon. 28 Crystalline used to dramas. 37 Clan symboL of the eye? frighten. 6 Opposite of 38 Walking stick. 29 Viscuous mud. 41 Idols. odd. 39 Instrument of SO Finger orna- 43 VerbaL 7 NoveL percussion.' ment 44 To decay. 8 Credit 40 Northeast 81 Writing fluid. 45 Striped. 9To argue at the wind. 32 After song. 46 Tight bar. 42 To cut grasa. 33 Breathing 47TopeeL 10 Chestnut-col- 43 Paddle, organ. 48 Pitcher. ored horse. 44 Hurrah! 34 Alleged force 49 “Pittsburgh of 11 Donkey-like 46 Seventh note, producing the South,’* beast 47 PortugaL

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Give me another chance to show her that I love her!” Miss Nesbit persisted, gently firm, “Go out and eat now, child. A bowl of soup. Anything.” Liane looked at the sturdy watch on the other's round white wrist. It was 1 .’clock. She dragged herself out of the chair. “I'll fly,” she said tonelessly. "Just around the corner.” Agony, agony. It was all agony, here was no relief. Even the pavements were unfriendly. The fall day seemed ominous with the hush of unshed tears. She found a little restaurant, one in which the day before she had wept unashamed into a bitter cup of tea. She did not weep now. Even that was beyond her. it a it QHE saw, as one sees flashes in a cinema, pictures of her life and her mother together. Herself at 12, in blue serges, being brought to the convent. Her mother’s mobile, eager face. Sister Blanche. “She’s a dear child, Mrs. Barrett, and “we’ll take good care of her.” That was the year mother had gone on tour with the Shakespearean company. Liane wondered numbly what life would have been like for both .of them if Tom Barrett had lived. She scarcely remembered him. He had died when she was 6. She had vague memories of a tall, brownhaired man who carried her on his shoulder. How she had envied girls who spoke of “my father” at school. She longed for her father now, for someone to keep this fearful vigil with her. Somehow Liane swallowed the hot, salty broth, crumbled a cracker and left it untasted. Then she fairly ran the short block to the hospital in a fever, lest she had stayed too long. Something—anything—might have happened. She was afraid to open the door. Dread had swept over her again like a searing flame. But Miss Nesbit sat, quiet and relaxed, watching the sufferer, listening to the labored breathing. “Doctor’s due,” she whispered. Liane nodded. She , was counting the seconds. She took up her place by the bed. In the silence came a sound, low, sibilant, like a sigh. Cass was beginning to moan again. Fragments of words tore out of her delirium. Liane bent nearer. “Darling, I’m here,” she kept saying over and over. Cass said suddenly, clearly, “Luisa wouldn’t want her to know. Anyhow, she’s mine. I’ve earned her. My little girl.” Then she began to toss again. u u u THE doctor came and went. Long shadows crept over the walls. Liane crouched, unstirring. “He says the crisis will coma tonight.” Miss Nesbit whispered to the night nurse, who entered, rustling and fresh, at 7. The two nurses held a long consultation outside the door as Liane kept wtach, Elsie fluttered in for a moment, sympathetic and reassuring, on her way to the theater. “You’ve got to get some sleep, kid,” she said anxiously, “You’ll cave in.’’ “Make them let me stay tonight?” Liane begged. “Make them. You can!” Elsie shook her head. “Don’t think it can be done, kid. Anyhow, they’re not certain there will be any change.” But Liane was determined. Miss Nesbit shook her head. “Against the rules,’’ she said firmly. Liane went to the floor head. The starched woman listened with cool,, blank eyes. In the end she said stiffly. “The room next door happens to be empty. I will make an -exception. That is, if you promise to lie down and wait till nurse calls you.” All her life long Liane Barrett was to remember that night as her Gethsemane. Young as she was, she seemed to touch the very depths of human anguish. There was no one to stand by—not one of her own flesh and blood to hold her hand. Toward midnight she heard the slipping rush of feet on the oilclothed floor outside. Shaking, she crept to the door. An interne shot out of the clanging elevator. The

night nurse appeared for a split second, her cap slightly awry. “Change has come,” little floor nurse told Liane calmly, “but don’t go in now.” She touched the young girl on the arm with compassion. “Be brave,” she said. She, too, was young. She turned away that Liane might not see the bright drops trembling on her lashes. Ages passed. Glasses clinked at the end of the corridor in the diet kitchen. A tall, middle-aged nurse went by with a glass of orange juice in her hand. “Oh, God,” prayed Liane again, deeply, wildly. “Oh, God, remember me now.” She wanted to go into that roo:.i and she dared not. She stared unseeing at the hands of the little watch she carried. Thirty minutes past 12. Night clubs somewhere were just beginning to take on life. People were dancing, laughing. Young girls with painted mouths were flirting across white tablecloths. And inside that quiet, orderly room a grim struggle was going on. Liane put her hand across her eyes. When she opened them the young interne was standing there. Was he, oh God, was it possible?—was he smiling at her? She reached out, snatched at his hand. Something to hold to. He said, “Yes. It’s good nevs. She’s over the top—we think.” Liant went down on her knees. She said, “Father, we thank Thee —” just before the black faintness §wirled around her. it u u THE room was full of sunshine and the scent of hothouse roses. Cass sat up in the middle of a big bed, a little paler and noticeably thinner. Otherwise, she was not changed so greatly as Liane had expected her to be. It was the fourth week of Cass’ convalescence. As soon as she had been able to be moved, Mrs. Cleespaugh autocratically had commanded that she be brought to Wildacres.

Everything had been arranged—the drawing room, the nurse to accompany the invalid. Mrs. Cleespaugh had sent the big car to the station to meet them, had welcomed Cass Barrett to her house with royal dignity and simplicity. “She’s —well, shes simply marvelous,” Liane had said, out of a thankful heart. She wondered why she ever had thought the old lady’s manner faintly domineering. Now Mrs. Cleespaugh seemed simply perfect to her. She had paid the hospital bills, had invited Cass to be her guest indifinitely. “I don’t know why she does all this for us, I’m sure,” Cass had said, tears of weakness and gratitude springing to her eyes. Elsie, saying goodby to them at the station in Philadelphia, had added, roughly comforting, “Why shouldn’t she? She has so much it would be a pity if she couldn’t share some of it.” , Cass was established in the sunniest of the south chambers. She still had a nurse in spite of protests that she no longer needed one —and now Mrs. Cleespaugh was suggesting a southern trip. (To Be Continued.)

STICKERS

<•)(•);. (®x®) 000000 000000 , oo •OO In order to score one point on tlie above target you must bit four circles in four shots so that the circles hit form a square, as indicated by the black centers. How many different ways is it possible to form a square on the target, with four shots for each square? tQ

Answer for Yesterday

r- . L 7 4 • • N • ' *2 3 ~• ft % • ‘ * *• ’ • #• • t^-9 5 • ; 1 5 the fleet of boats be anchored as shown above, and the torpedo ship? arranged as indicated by the numbers, as many as 10 ships can be sunk, in the direction and order of the arrows and numbers. Each torpedo passes under three ships and,sinks the fourth. q

TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

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Jimmy Blake stepped forward and halted. The young man eyed him arrogantly. “Whence earnest thou?” he asked, “and what doest thou in the Valley of the Sepulcher?” It dawned on Blake that he had stumbled on some movie outfit, “on location.” These “extra men” perhaps were just having a little joke at his expgnse. * *

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE /

J? He-Y,MASb-R , "THERE.Is A TAIR F/doUGt< , HARRIS- LETf 181 ( bloke <xrfstt>£ wrrtf a Bak)Dag£ lip Him 1—- uisVe. oUIV \ CAS tils. EVE tie- IU AiiMfiTV CEfd-fS l SAVS , SIASCE-’ ftE OMLV WAS J I 'foDAV AMD WIS AKCKEL IS / j CME EVE “To LOOK Arf / Y fMPoRT'AU'T' MoMEV IM "TKESE | I IHIMGS MOW,I OOGWT To LET* j j "tfMES, EGAD * - BUT',FROM J \ WIAA COME (M FOR J ( Motd CM, VF VJE GET AMVMORE / V HALF PRICE 7 CR A / S CUSTOMERS LIKE THAT, I WILL J AiICKEL : WOVU i ( BECOME SUSPICIOUS ©IMI BY HEA StWVICI. IWC. Wttt. a ■ PT. orr, j

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

/ \ /- \ UllimTN Tue CARETAKER. WERC.FOR. MR. ) eecvuEt> hinsstoj —us ant ev&eYßocry suse < and TA3ALOSIG CAUJ& Uhta.£ JOMM and chief cook. aM’ bottle vjasher. j . OSCAR APE OF THIS VJMOLE SHCCTIM’ ! AT MR. K'NGSTCWS A^ATCH H£ VJROTE i ] __ ME "TO Be ON TVe f \ 1 ! SUMMER PLACE. ,t* ) j j ON LOOKOUT FER yoo * I J PARADISE V ' j AND , FROM l \ y “ME \NAV IT . } J) "looks, rr f r \) A \ surely is ugstk ' J (A 1 J A V / PARADISE.... X Hi* 1 ( - | l , IP k\ i .

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

a su/r~ of C y'ou j~us,t eer' _CLo'nf(=S FOG. T?//S ) / U//AL/ Sffne&'r' LooKtMG- J /A—- --.... j j

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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But too much was too much. Blake was beginning to get annoyed. “Cut the comedy, young fellow,” he said. “Where’s the director?” “Director? Forsooth, I know not what thou meanest,” replied the other. “Yes, you don’t!” snapped Blake sarcastically. “G|t this straight, old kid, no bunch of cheap movie extras can pull anything like this on me.” L

—By Ahern

SON MAKE YX)RSgL>/E:3 TO HOME...mg VjwolE place is yrurs—Do anything you LIRE... SLEEP AS LONG AS YOU VIANT t--IN THE MORNIN'S—TLL ALWAYS EBREAKFAST PER YOU, NO MATTER. J HWAT TIME You err UP„_ RIGHT y IZEz:' UP THE stairs ARE lots of= j BED Rooms >UST HELP YOUR* J v J ~ == =-~ == A^SELF—TAKE "THE one THAT C * JL

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“Ods blud, fellow! I mislike thy tone, it savors o’er of insult,” sharply answered the young knight. “Oh, be yourself,” advised Blake family. “If the director isn’t handy. I’ll see the camera man.” “Be myself,” said the knight. “And who, • thinkest thee, I would be other than Sir Richard Montmorency, a noble knight of Nimmr?"

OUT OUR WAY

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K, .<Qia3l BY MEJ SCFT C REG. U S.CAT OCF ‘

r Sail IF THIS ISNT GOING ~J vHwy DONT vj T£> BE A SWELL VACATION \ THEY HAVE SWELL j jl. X MISS My GUESS— J sc£MECy I' " : ‘ 'N X LIRE UNCLE JOHN ) { TWS ,M J YEAH-IT DOES ibo...se£l Tj seem a shame 5 VWAST6 ** '•

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

' Blake was wmmenqln* to doubt his amt. im sorry, he said. "You see. IV. been under something ol a strain, lost in the Jungle and nearly starved. I thought you were playing some joke on m<*s Tell, me, wher&am 1$ What

rJtffeY 10,-mt

—By Williams

—By Blosser:

—By Crano

—By Small

—By Martin;