Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 118, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 September 1931 — Page 22

PAGE 22

GUILTY# UPS fy LAURA LOU BROOKMAN Auth^,,^

BEGIN HERE TODAY Pretty NORMA KENT. 20-year-ol(3 •ternary. marries MARK TRAVERS, son of F. M TRAVERS, millionaire real estate dealer. In spite of the lather * threats to disinherit Mark. The story opens in Marlboro, middle western metropolis. Mark sells his expensive roadster to get money for the honeymoon and he and Norma go to fashionable Blue Springs. After two weeks, their money is gone, partly due to Mark's gambling. With *SOO. borrowed, the couple return to Marlboro. Mark sets out on a round of pleasure seeking instead of hunting work. When their funds dwindle again, he and Norma move to a cheap apartment. Mark gets one Job and loses it. Then he becomes a floorwalker in Blossomdale's department store. In spite of poverty, the young couple' are happy. After a few weeks Mark's father sends for him. offers to take him back into his business organization if Mark will prove he can make good. His first task Involves a business trip to France. Norma is to remain at home. She bees him not to go. but in spite of her protests Mark departs. Norma, treated rudely at her father-in-law’s home, slips away leaving no trace of her whereabouts. She takes a room in a cheap lodging house. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO (Continued) Across the room, tacked to the faded wallpaper, Norma saw a calendar. She had not noticed It earlier in the day. The calendar bore the name of a coal company printed in large lettering and beneath this the head of a flirtatious young woman dressed in red. The calendar evidently had been added to the room as a decoration. No one had bothered to remove the November sheet from the pad. Swiftly Norma crossed the room and tore off the ante-dated leaf. Yesterday had been December 3. She counted down four weeks. That brought her to the 30th. Four weeks —but it might be five! Painstakingly Norma drew a circle about the numeral 30. It occurred to her for the first time that Mark would be away on Christmas. For a long time she sat and stared at the calendar. Then she arose, drew a large cross over the day that had just ended. There would be 27 more crosses to draw before she could hope to see Mark again. Twenty-seven more crosses. From childhood and Sunday school Norma remembered a hymn about crosses. No, she told herself vehemently, it was not sacrilegious to think of such things! Every day away from Mark, every 24 hours represented by a cross up on her calendar, was a literal cross to be borne on her shoulders. Oh, what good could telling herself to be brave do? What good could anything do? a tt a NORMA was 20 years old. She was very much in love, desperately unhappy and lonesome. So, as might have been expected of any young girl in a similar situation, she cried herself to sleep. Morning when It came was gray and dreary. A sunless December day threatening snow which did not fall. Norma did not go out for breakfast. She dallied through the routine of dressing, made her bed and rearranged a bureau drawer. At 9:45 she was summoned to the telephone. Chris’ voice at the other end of the wire said brightly, “Everything’s arranged. You’re to come down as soon as you can and Dorothy’ll take you to Mr. Stuart’s office. How soon can you make it?” “Half an hour, I guess. I’ll start right away.” “Then step on it! The Job’s as good as yours now.” , Chris was a dear. For her sake, Norma tried to seem more enthusiastic than she felt riding downtown on the street car, later meeting the unknown Dorothy and being led by her to the unknown Frederick Stuart’s office. Half-way down the corridor Dorothy stopped. “Wait a minute!” she said abruptly. “You’re not feeling so high this morning, are you? Need a little rouge. Here—let’s see what we can do—” They went Into the wash room. From her own vanity case Dorothy produced rouge and a pinkish pad with which to apply It. Five minutes of artful ministrations and Norma emerged, the color In her cheeks notably brightening her appearance. “It Isn’t too much,” the other girl assured her. “The whole building has artificial light today.” a a a THE lettering on the frosted glass before them read “Frederick J. Stuart, Authors’ Representative.” Dorothy opened the door and they entered. A slim girl, taller than Norma, with ash blond hair, arose to meet them. “Hello,” she smiled at Dorothy. “Is this Miss Travers?” “Yes. And this is Miss Fenway, Miss Travers. She’s come to see about the job.” “Os course. Mr. Stuart’s in now. Shall I ask him if he can see you? I know it will be all right.” Norma said she would like the Interview at once. The slim girl disappeared. She returned and with a nod Invited Norma to enter her employer’s office. Norma passed through the door marked “private.” The man at the desk looked up. “Miss Travers?” he asked. “Yes sir. I understand you need a secretary and I’ve come to apply for the position.” Stuart straightened back. He was a dark man and he was large, dark-rimmed spectacles. The hair over his temples was rather thin. a a a "OIT down, Miss Travers,” he said, ij “Miss Fenway tells me you’ve had considerable experience. Take dictation, I suppose?” “Yes, sir. Most of my experience has been in a law office. I’ve had practfce taking letters in shorthand and also on the dictaphone.” “I see. Well, let’s have a try at it. Ask Miss Fenway for a notebook—” Norma went for the notebook. For half an hour she took dictation at high -speed and afterward transcribed the notes. Her fingers seemed clumsy as she hit the typewriter keys, but her shorthand was accurate. It took longer to write the letters than it should have, but when finished they were perfect. Stuart studied the letters carefully. He chewed the end of a cigar that was not lighted. Presently he broke the silence. “Report for work Monday morning, please, Miss Travers. Nine o’clock.” Norma hesitated. “About the salary—” sh began. “Yes, yes. Os course. Twentyfive dollars.” "I was earning S3O on my last Job.” • “Well, well make it $27.50. Raise you after the first of the year if your work's satisfactory. Rightr

The girl nodded. “It’s all right.” She left Frederick J. Stuart’s office. In a building six blocks away F. M. Travers shifted to a more comfortable position in his comfortable desk chair. He was holding the French telephone to his ear. "What’s that?” Travers exclaimed. “You've found the girl? Yes, of course I want to go through with it. Take a cab and come over here right away!” CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE WORKING for Frederick J. Stuart was not at all like working in Brooks, Welliver and Brooks’ law office. Norma found her new tasks easier. The letters were never complicated and there were no difficult, unfamiliar words to spell. Stuart dictated at rapid-fire speed, but Norma could transcribe her notes leisurely. This was fortunate, because her shorthand was more accurate than her typing. Occasionally her employer asked her to read a manuscript and tell him what she thought of It. This was fun, though Norma never had any means of knowing what Stuart thought of her judgment. She had little means of knowing what he thought of anything. He said little, never spoke of anything but business, and seemed an indefatigable worker. All sorts of people came to the office—old men, eager-faced young women, housewives, a youth in a purple overcoat who announced himself as a poet; prosperous-look-ing individuals and others who seemed impoverished, a playwright whose dramas were unusually successful and whom Stuart told Norma was perpetually bitter because the world would not recognize him as a novelist. In spite of herself during the first week Norma was interested. She liked to speculate about these curious people, which ones had manuscripts that would sell, which were slaves of the pitiful illusion of talent. a a a A GOOD part of the time she had to herself. Stuart was out of the office some times for entire half days. Then all she had to do was receive visitors and take messages. Each morning when she awoke Norma was grateful for the work which somehow would fill the hours until evening. Her days became exact replicas of one another. She arose at 7:30, dressed, righted her room and boarded a downtown car. She breakfasted at a cafeteria across the street from the offiefe, arrived there at 9 or a little earlier and sorted the morning mail. Her lunch hour was from 11:30 to 12:30. She worked until 5, dined at an inexpensive restaurant, and rode back to the rooming house on the street car. Occassionally she spent an evening with Chris. Twice Dorothy joined them and all three went to a motion picture theater. Norma knew she was not good company for the others and preferred to be alone. She could think of Mark when she was alone, plan for the glorious time when he would be back again. In memory she relived a hundred happy incidents she and Mark had known together. She would estimate the difference in Marlboro time and that in France and try to imagine what Mark might be doing at particular hours. While she was eating breakfast, it was well into afternoon wherever he might be. When she left the offiec at 5 it was late evening for Mark. a a a SHE spent hours composing carefully worded letters which she mailed to his business address. Scrupulously in these letters she avoided mention of how she was spending the time. She said nothing about Mark’s parents, yet gave'no hint that she was not with them. She wrote Mark that she missed him, that she was eager to hear all he had been doing, impatient for his return. That letters for her had reached Mark’s father home she never for a moment doubted. It was harder for her because she could not receive those letters and yet she had brought this on herself. Because it took so long, for a message to cross the ocean, she did not think Mark would consider her own letters strange or be surprised if he asked questions that were not answered. Everything would be explained when he came back. There was one real joy to look forward to each day. Norma saved it until the last moment before she got into bed. Then she took the fountain pen that had been Mark’s and with very black strokes crossed off that day on the calendar. The row of inky crosses grew impressively. Norma discovered that, whereas she had thought of crosses as burdens the first day she looked at that calendar, the black marks signified exactly the opposite. They stood for burdens that had been dropped. Each day anew cross. Each day bringing Mark nearer The seven crosses on the calendar grew to fourteen. If only a letter would come telling her that in two weeks Mark would be back! She could not forget he had said the four weeks might turn into five. The fourteen crosses became fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Christmas was only a few days away. Store windows were filled with Christmas gifts, holly wreaths, festoons of greenery and gay crimson ribbons. Tall evergreens, glowing with red, blue and gold lights dazzled the army of shoppers. Downtown streets from early morning until | late at night became avenues of ! confusion. Sidewalks swarmed with tired, hostile and determined faces peering from behind mountainous packages. Santa Clauses in cheap red-suits jingled their Christmas bells on street corners and the red capes oi Salvation Army workers loomed bright In the turmoil. Christmas only a few days away. Christmas! a a a NORMA found consolation in choosing Mark’s gift. It‘would be late, of course. She would keep it for him. Two weeks more—perhaps a little less than that—and she and Mark would make up for so many, many dreary days apart. What a celebration they would have then! She dared not think too much of that meeting. Whenever she did, the hurt in her heart became so sharp.

She stood long before windows ,filled with gifts bearing the significant placard, “For him —” She read professional suggestions for presents for young men. Mark’s tastes were difficult. She would have loved to buy him something truly expensive, but that was out of the question. She would have liked to give him something she had made with her own hands. There was no way to satisfy either of these desires so Norma compromised. She selected a sweater of soft yarn, exquisite to touch. It was a rich tan she knew Mark admired. He could wear it for golf and on comfortable evenings lounging at home. The sweater was her only Christmas purchase. She and Chris, knowing each other’s financial status, had ruled out gifts for each other long ago. Norma bought a sheet of the most festive paper she could find in which to wrap the sweater.. It was black and white, spangled with silver, and she. tied it with a crimson ribbon. Nice, Norma told herself as she surveyed the offering. Nice enough —almost—for the most beloved husband in the world. He would bring a gift for her, too. Something from Paris perhaps! When such thoughts occurred to her during working hours, it was necessary for Norma to force her attention rigidly back to her notebook, back to her typewriter. There were entire letters to be re-written because of moods of day dreaming. a a a OCCASIONALLY at her desk in Stuart’s office she felt qualms of conscience because she had not admitted to her employer that she had taken the position temporarily. Neither had she told him she was married. It was deceiving, Norma told herself guiltily. On the other hand, she knew enough about business to understand that either admission might' have cost her the job. She was doing her work efficiently. Stuart was satisfied. Wheh Mark came back, she would tell Stuart the truth and he would have no difficulty finding another secretary. Hundreds of girls were looking for work. She was lingering before a brightly lighted window filled with toys one evening when something made her turn. Not three yards away, his eyes fixed on the display she had been looking at, stood Bob Farrell. Noi*ma moved nearer. “Hello, Bob,” she said, smiling. “Hello! Say—where’d you come from?” “I was standing right there beside yoq admiring the dancing bear. Are you picking out your Christmas gift? Something in this window certainly seems to have you hypnotized.” Bob grinned. “Cute, aren’t they? Which one do you want?” “Oh, I’ll take the bear. Isn’t he adorable?” “Well, write your letter to Santa Claus and be a good girl! Where are you bound for? Couldn’t take pity on a guy and have dinner with him, could you?” “Sorry. I’ve just had dinner. I’m on my way to get the car.” Farrell said, “My hard luck! Don’t mind if I walk along with you?” “Os course not. Have you been winning any more big cases?” “Haven’t even had a chance. I suppose you’re all wrapped up in Christmas shopping and getting ready for the holidays.” “Well—not exactly. Mark isn’t going to be able to get here, I’m afraid. That sort of spoils things.” “Is he still abroad? That’s too bad! When do you expect him?” Norma was looking steadily ahead. “I hope it won’t be more than two weeks now,” she said. “It seems a terribly long time.” “Oh, two weeks isn’t long—unless you're waiting for a check! It’ll pass before you know it.” The girl smiled. “Remember,” she said, “when he does come you’re going to be our first dinner guest.” “That’s a promise. I won’t forget.” They had reached the car stop and a street car was heading toward them. Norma turned. “I’m glad to have seen you, Bob,’* she said. “Hope you have a fine Christmas.” “Thanks.” Farrell looked as though there were something more he wanted to say, but the car was almost there. Another minute and it had stopped with a noisy clangor. Norma’s “Good-by” came to him over the heads of half a dozen men and women. She forgot about the meeting almost instantly. Norma was tired. Another day gone; another cross on the calendar. She was too weary to smile at the agreeable thought. (To Be Continued)

Cross-Word Puzzle and Sticklers on Page 23

TARZAN AT THE EARTH'S CORE

The huge ship rose slowly and gracefully into the air. Tarzan was commander of the expedition and Jason Gridley was his lieutenant. Besides her large crew, Tarzan had brought along twenty Waziri warriors to act as a fighting force. As the 0-220 glided over the Rhine valley, Captain Zuppner, at the controls, could scarcely contain his enthusiasm. "She responds to the slightest touch,” he |e.id to Tarzan, "she can be handled as easily as an automobile. Why, man, we’ve got twice the we need.”

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

SALESMAN SAM

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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"Perhaps you are right, captain,” said Tarzan, "but we may need them. We are going into a strange world; we may be gone a long time. If we reach our destination, who knows what fighting we may have to do?” But as they gazed at the quiet peacefulness of the scene below the giant airship, danger and death seemed very remote. The great, shining ship sailed majestically north, then out across the waters of the North sea and headed for the frozen polar wastes.

—By Ahern

JUST IM lUS MI CK 1 ; y°° ecrvs * a£ ) V% V ■M os Time,Oß. \me'o j‘iy BSicms about TMiS 8"

5 1931. by Ed,r Rie. Burro.,h, !,r All ri,b(a rrr.rorrl

For several days the 0-220 nosed steadily toward the top of the world. Soon now Jason Gridley’s theory would be proved false or true. Excitement ran high when calculations showed they were directly over the North Pole. At Tarzan’s suggestion the ship circled slowly at an altitule of a few hundred feet above the snow-covered ice. The captain and his navigator eagerlv and anxiously watched the various dials and instruments. Yet all that any one saw was the.ice-clad landscape.

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

HiMaian —**

Jason Gridley’s belief was that the polar opening lay in the vicinity of 85 north latitude and 170 east longitude. Os all the instruments, the compass commanded his closest attention For Gricley held a theory, upon whose correctness depended their success of finding the north pole opening. Five hours the ship flew steadily toward the south, when suddenly she developed a tendency to fall off toward the west. Even the captain was mystified. So great was the strain that for hours scarcely a word hadtheen exchanged.

.SEPT. 25,1931

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin