Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 182, Indianapolis, Marion County, 9 December 1931 — Page 15

DEC. 9, 1931.

THREE KINDS cf LOVE BY KAY CLEAVER 1 STRAHAN , 0

(Continued from Pagr 1) thinßs shall soon be arranged for the best good and the best comfort of all,’ to our dear son.” "Yes, sir,” said Gladys, frightfully flustered because she knew that never in this world could she remember all of that like that. Cecily, a fairly pretty little girl even at 8 years old, and soon to be prettier, pulled at the tassel on the baby's shoe and said: “Father won’t understand. He hasn’t understood anything for three days. It is the fever’s fault. They are afraid mother may have contracted it.” She ducked her chin lower and blinked her long lashes up and down over her gray eyes. Grand opened the doors again and with bow and gesture bade Gladys Clapp a benevolent good afternoon. Mind the third step,” he called. The third step was broken right down in the center. a a a A WOMAN named Josephine . Loehden was working for Grand and Rosalie at that time. When she had come a year ago to apply for the position of general houseworker in the Fenwick mansion, she had said, “My name is Josephine Loehden. When I work. I work. When I sleep, I sleep. I do more work with one hand than most women do with two hands. But, I want my pay.” When she quitted the Fenwick mansion, five months after the day Gladys had brought the children to live with their grandparents, she made much the same speech. “When I work, I work,” she said. “When I sleep, I sleep. I am not a dog. p’or five months I have worked -ike a dog. Now I will go and sleep .'or five months and I will not be rested. And I want my pay.” Rosalie had explained again, sweetly and patiently, that Josephine should have her pay—tomorrow, perhaps: certainly next week, and she had added, with a touch of sorrow and regret, that, considering the deep regard she had felt through the years for Josephine, and the. things she had done for Josephine, it seemed past understanding that Josephine now should leave her in the lurch. Josephine Loehden had replied, “Always you have been behind with my pay. You were behind with my good friend Mrs. Joe Ott’s pay when I came here. You are now three months and one week behind. Before I would stay longer in this house I would go up the hill and sit under the tall , trees.” She had l\ft by the back door, minding the btek steps, because the back steps were in need of repair. A procession of houseworkers followed, after that: Women who came through the front dotor and left through the back door rapidly and to march time. One with a deformed shoulder, whose name was Christina Eugenia Passafnime, stayed for more than a year before she went away through the front door and on a stretcher to the ambulance that took her to the charity hospital. Three months later, Christina Eugenia Passafiume’s lawyer (if you please]) threatened suit against Jonathan Fenwick for SIBO, six months’ unpaid salary due to his client. Grand sold one of the few remaining lots, on 'which he had kept the taxes paid, and the affair was settled, promptly and quietly and out of court. Ann knew nothing of this, but the talk with Rosalie, precipitated at least by Miss Flume’s insolence, marked a turning point in Ann’s life. She was 16 years old, by this time, and in her freshman year at Reed college, where John Fenwick had taught and was well remembered. “Darling,” Rosalie began, “I’ve been thinking today—such jolly, merry little thoughts. They have flown about me all day long like sweet wee song birds. Biddie birds” tin a lower register). “Do you know what they have been singing to me? Independence, over and over. Independence, and chumminess” (Ann shuddered slightly but Rosalie did not notice), “and sharing one another's burdens, and —um —all that sort of thing, you know.” a a a ANN said, “Oh?” Rosalie sat and smiled w r ith her tiny Cupid'sbow mouth, embedded away up above the first of her three chins, and nodded her head with its crown

HORIZONTAL YESTERDAY’S ANSWER 16 Part of plant 1 Home state ot | A j R j E | N |Aj 3 j JorEllqln] “° W S!rOl,nd ' 7 S~to?. ®C&QIiLCLZaai!l p S 23 Animal. 14 Hautboy. ST\~' -p*§SSShi 24 one ski,led in 15 Organ of hoar- E|V 1 LIBT t G EpMSlAjNic. artifice. lnK IVlt S|ipft|G t A[Nis Ti INjEiDI 27 Sea lettuce. 17 Bone of the Zll NAX gMSQgfeL. 2S Twelve months wrist. W. IS Quantity. .L AT hSLjAiUjR|EI LI 20 Sun. If) The course to {B!R A DSBBr|O R^M|SMVA'N 3 2 Holding tools, he traveled. [I|KN AMOU BlEljplW APE 33 Most common* 21 To talk idly. a| ijDllPpß E UDiOIS place--22 Black fly. |T|c: HslAlTnsnßlElS O RfT 34 opposite of 24 Excavation for INiEISiT L r EI ISiNAjRES weL extracting: ore. 37 Incapable. 25 South America. 46 To gather in Europe. 3S Fine earti* 26 Leaping. after the 2 Black. suspended ill 29 To harden. reapers. 3 Lyre-like in* running water. 30 Young salmon. 47 1 ndermines. struments. 39 Extra tires. 31 Freckled. 49 To recede. 1 Myself. 42 To encounter. 34 Prima donna. 61 To match at 5 Northeast. 43 Wise men. 35 End of a dress corners. 6 Incrustation 44 Donkey-like coat. 52 Pod- on teeth. beasts. 36 Little towers. * r> 3 Serfs. g change. 4S Sanskrit dia* 39 Masculine 55 Two fives*. 9 To regret. lect. titles of cour- 57 To erase. 10 Within. 50 Curse, tosy. 5S Renters. nTo scold con- 51 Males. 40 Some. 59 Woman's club. stantly. 54 Virginia. 41 Imposes again. - VERTICAL 12 Obliterates. 56 Nay. 45 Minor note. 1 Largest river 13 Deducts from. 57 To accomplish. I k fe |4 I k |fo"T| 17 16 |IO 111 -IE 115 rr " ' - *Tr dfa 5 " 35 wr —— ra- ®lr-j 11111111 * l At 1 1 1 91

of yellow hair (Grand always called it a crown, and she had ever so much of it, and it was “touched up” merely), and said nothing. So Ann was forced to say, “What do you mean?” Rosalie meant that this servant problem was torturing her by day and tormenting her by night; the ingratitude, the inefficiency, the necessity of having daily contact with-it was Rosalie's turn to shudder, and Ann noticed—“that sort of person.” So it seemed to Rosalie that with three girls in the house (Rosalie, Ann and Cecily) all lovingly eager to help one another, they should be able to manage, easily and happily, with a charwoman coming in once or twice a week. So charwomen came, though more often they did not come, and three months went along, somehow, and it was Ann w'ho sought Rosalie for the second talk. She began it forthrightly. “Rosalie, didn’t father leave any money at all?” “Darling!”—done in two long syllables, not wholly reproachful. “A college professor, and three babies in fourteen years!” It was as if Rosalie had said, “fourteen babies in three years.” “Yes, I know,” Ann said. “But I thought, perhaps, there might have been life insurance—or something.” Rosalie leaned back in her chair and held out her white hands—little dimples, and littler diamonds, but big amethysts and one gold flower filigree with a seed pearl—“ Come to Rosalie, darling—nestle here. I want to have a talk with you, a heart-to-heart talk with my little girl.” It developed that there had been a small life insurance, but that John (“He wasn’t practical. Aren’t you glad and happy, Ann dear, that your father was not a wholly practical man?”) had, months before he had passed on, borrowed heavily against it to meet—well, very urgent obligations. (Parents should be considered very urgent obligations, one supposes.) No—beautiful memories, high ideals, and—um—things of that sort were all that John had been able to leave behind him. All —and yet everything. “And us girls, of course,” Ann suggested. “To carry out his visions to fulfill his hopes and ideals, to—um—” She paused. Ann had sighed heavily. Rosalie began again: “Was there something, dear—some girlish adornment, some little pleasure that you had set your heart on? Tell me. Tell me all about it, and perhaps, if it is wise. Grand and I can manage it for you.” “No,” Ann said. "Nothing. I had thought—hoped— No. I guess I’ll have to quit school for this term, anyway.” a a a AND that, it leaked out, was precisely what Grand and Rosalie had been desiring, but disliking to mention. They had noticed (they watched their three more closely than the darlings knew) that Ann was growing too slender, that rosebuds were leaving her cheeks, and that circles were shading beneath her brown eyes, and they had feared for her health, cooped up in those old dark buildings, studying and getting stoop-shouldered. ‘■They aren’t old buildings, nor dark. They are beautiful,” Ann, amazingly for Ann, had disagreed. “But—l was talking to the dean of women today. She >s wonderful. Yes, I’ll have to quit for this term, I supose.” Grand and Rosalie were delighted. There was plenty of time. Ann was jso young. It would have been | terrible if she had been forced to I wear glasses in front of those great lustrous eyes. A good long rest at home was what she needed; rest and very little reading and plenty of fresh air. Ann inhaled some fresh air, at least, during the next two months, when she stood often in the front doorway, blushing and gasping, confronting bill collectors. She and 10-year-old Cecily talked it all over Wednesday evening after school, and together they decided that, since Grand and Rosalie seemed unaware of the financial situation in the Fenwick mansion, they—Cecily and Ann—must take matters into their own hands and do something concerning bills and such things without further delay. On Thursday afternoon Ann went to see Dr. Elm and asked him to lend her SSO, which was the tuition fee charged by the business college she had selected.

He wrote the check, and a pre- j scription for a tonic, and could not j i remember what it was all about, j when, four months later, Ann called | at his office to pay him $5. “I have a position," she explained. ‘•But I get only $lO a week, and I have something to pay with this other five. I’ll bring five again next week.” a a a DR. ELM detained her. He asked questions. Ann answered them all. The Redfem Plumbing and Heating Company. She liked it pretty well. She was feeling pretty well. Yes, she had gone to Reed college, but she had stopped for a number of reasons. Her sister, j Cecily, was going to college. No Cecily now was in the sixth grade at grammar school. Rosalie and Grand accepted Ann’s j entrance into w T hat Grand called j the world of commerce with girlsi will-be-girls expressions. It was so odd of the darling. However, i both Rosalie and Grand believed in autonomy for children. Too, as Rosalie explained to their | best friends, the Carmichaels, who lived on the corner across the street, | she and Grand felt even more reluctance in opposing the whims of their grandchildren than they might have felt in opposing the whims of 1 children of their own. When Cecily, in her senior year at high school, determined to quit high ! school and go at once to the busij ness college to which Ann had gone, ! they again offered no objections. “Os course,” Cecily said to the peachy English instructor who insisted that surely she could wait until after her graduation, “I did hope to finish here and go on to college. It doesn’t seem possible just now. But my sister Ann and I are going to manage so that our little sister, Mary Frances, can have a college education.” Grand told Mr. Carmichael that same afternoon, “Modern girls—upon my soul, they seem money mad. Not that I am criticising my granddaughters. Better girls never lived to bless a man’s declining years. Better at heart, that is.” And when Mr. Carmichael had suggested that the girls with their salaries might be able to help out a trifle at home, Grand had waved gestures and declared: “Not a penny, my friend. Not one penny. Their little chicken feed is theirs, to spend as they like. Their own, for little girlish luxuries and extravagances. I hope they are extravagant with their poor little moneys. It wall make me feel easier about permitting them to enter the world of commerce, rub shoulders, as it were, with the herd. At the time of my son’s passing I gladly undertook the care, the support, the education of his little brood. I shall always so care for them. I shall always support them.” And Grand believed it, as he said it; he sincerely believed it. a a a BY the time that Ann was earning $25 a week and Cecily sl6 i a week, Grand had retired from the real estate business. Had, as he told Rosalie and the girls, decided to leave the game to the youngsters, the lads—unlicked cubs —fresh from college, who were willing to step on the other fellow’s fingers to gain footholds of their own. He could compete with them; yes. He would not stoop to do so; no. He would now and at last devote himself to the field wherein he knew his real talents lay—the field of inventions. “I’ll wager you $10,000,” said Grand to Ann, though neither of them that day had 10,000 cents in the world, “that at the end of one year I shall have more to show for my efforts than I would have after ten years of this miserable land hawking.” This seemed possible. It had been more than a year now since Grand had made even a small deal in real estate. The reason, not visible either to Ann or to Grand, was that for the last several years Grand had been disposing of the remnants of his own land holdings at prices so low that he could find buyers for them with no difficulty. Other landowners were unwilling to make these sacrifices or, if prodded by necessity, they made them for themselves without Grand’s aid. Grand owned nothing now except j the family house and that land upon which it stood. These, he stated, ! he would sell at the same time that he sold his wife and his grandI daughters. He made speeches about ; it. His son and his son’s children had been born there. (They hadn't, at | all; but Grand’s memory at 74 was j failing.) It had stood through the years, in stress and storm, an ever ready haven for him and his —that j sort of thing. Rosalie, getting wind ; of the fact, some way or other, that there were such things as mortgages, had once suggested during a trying month that they borrow a mortgage—or whatever one did with a mortgage—on the home place. (To Be Continued) Sticklers on Page 13

TARZAN AT THE EARTH’S CORE

As Ovan finished his warning. Tarzan of the Apes rose to his feet. “Come!” he said to Jana, “now is as good a time as any. If we can cross the ledge and reach the trail only a swift- w-arrior can overtake us. And if you are my friend,” he continued, turning to the chief’s sen. “you will keep silent and give us our chance.” “ I AM your friend,” replied the boy. That is why I am here. But you would never live to reach the trail.”

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

- -■ v.t " 'jr **' V 'fH/rf csl ldi_oiD -THumß nod Haoc I’LL &UC. vou -A IS AM iMklEWfiah GF IXmE FOR"THiS THUMB 1; ; MR. tAiat-gPERFSRS —rr IS WMOVMM /pi _ I’m VorffulGt l AS "THE 6MGL£D&RFeR HiTIR-HIKERS ; T>RACTCAL- USET 1 THUMB He also H’AS imoEmTE© > PI6HT iiawu i \ OME THAT LKSthrS MiOHT THtIMBiAUGr V6IJ J j S HrTCH-HHO/OGr —AMI> AH fmR £M<-LEDERFEft USOULD LIKE. ME FOR S— &00 D CiOflT. L ( HiS PARTNER rfo MARKET HiS PftnPLiCrTS EMGIEPERFER {W V AMP - AH— KAFF v-doOMD j ""T tkIUEST <s-300 um OUR COmPaxW. / | B | 8, H£ scwvkl lKC C 0 u >T Jrr. >

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

) f you OOSJT WEED \I. DOtJT DoUST TV AT- f WHY SAY? Sv/ECYBOOVD 8£ Wf YES. BUT UovJ DO YOU ll| Cl OU TUeVTA. FIT ALL 0, 11 Bffr 3 .- *TD LAUCSU. PoP_ J BUT v*WAT PUZZLES . IN EACW OTUSSS *.'AY AkT 6ZT Wf IF THE PACTS WWL J / CI^TUT—FELLA KUOWS MS 1 WILL.-TVA, LL r--s - 1 60,5 -tuis-l, qc a \ME is,why DOtJT 4 IN-B ACSUAAENTS M6SB£,A>r F7 PIT VNHEW XX) ALL <3£T rs- K g „ Jm ’ 8S Use DECIDED ) Vou all TO- J HMB *)OUU> <S£TJf—AS OUWTA fii L It) BUILD A „ 4 CETUEH. ON TUS ANWWEgE-THIS M-f ? • V UAs/E _ YoO Jusr W kIH , ' =oG .7 ‘ CUOB HOUSE._ CLUB Mouse JL -nJiKJS' 2 vnay.Each pella) wbh' All c-b'l ) / T?

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

'Tv J ASH AND WS New FRIEND W2E GASBiNcA f /"'> lA|qu\CTiN ABOUT THE GREEN-HANDLED ‘ STILETTO WASH FOUND, WHEN RIP APPAR- ~ / 0

SALESMAN SAM

ft’M FILLIN’ PER THIS AND HERE COY|£S\ fvUeLL LOOK Vft OVER 1 . Woßlßy'lM' ARoUT - . RACKET, BATTLeFv* _ SLEEK 1 . TH-’ DUDE OF TH' THASS C3-UESS FLUHAHO- AROUMO-J 60S-£RS,BUT (A G-REAT <f,miN(=R - —a— scrapper.- v ’ J. VaJelg, old Pal, ('ll WUOft e>ecottt< Too 1 JT // —7/ —//* , F(Y THAT* „ T - - - ’’ y * —

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

ni i° h • h^v °' ■ VAV: iff / yA&z / VAI If OOK,T Ttu - x -voio [f V j f ff Vou BUT, 1M TWUOfr To ■ '' m vwmm* ■ •i '-i m JK /

“There is no other way,” said Tarzan. “There is,” replied Ovan, “and 1 have come to shew you. Follow me.” He started into the remote recesses of the cavern. Behind him followed the Red Flower and the ape-man. In semi-darkness they ascended a steep floor. At last Ovan halted. His torch reverted a small, natural opening in the rock wall. “In there lies a trail leading to the summit of the mountain. Only the chief and the chief’s son ever know of this. The trail is difficult, Dut it is the only way.”

—By Ahern

“If my father learns I have shown this to you he will have to kill me. But he shall never know. Go now. This is the return I mcke you for having saved my life.” With that he dashed the torch to the floor, leaving them in total darkness. He did not speak again but Tarzan heard his soft footsteps as they died away. The ape-man reached out his hand for Jana’s. Carefully he led her through the midnight gloom, feeling for the way with his other hand.

OUT OUR WAY

f c*OOO ■ ME S M Ov(€S I talv< PACrrs X TmaT M<c, MAR \ HJMCf TM KAIOCXJfc, AOS JT FJ w IL. a*-V£ , WPL u. 4T nrr TmIPTW MEAPS TOP SOON f ,i3

"X / OR. > JES UKES To BUST A ' sunx) must of MISSED HIM A ffUT \ WINDERS. AN’ BESIDES, HE’S GONE. OH, WELL 1 . MANBE I Tu* ueAU \\ there was a TboGH-tookw)hell git mad an’ bring back! vl ouv PET PIN’ IN AT US. a h HIS FRIENDS— THEN We’LL J . '. ,

i ; r if' n ,\V*> A'MVOV •1 - t j VMHV MOV OH MOW, <s* o9 VOOUM&. Oo'c.VV .. OOm'v VMOW VMCW frBOOV j Ceyv Httt. TL WMHV VO fctv ‘bOMV • C.H\CAOlK>*> o\QV‘b 1 t>*V, \MHfvV OO Voo I t>OMt TH\M6 YHKV UJW_V y>V V>MMV< ent’o UXi f VOO I CUVC.VEM'b p Hfa OV HV \ oOKjV ThtV p VMOW 6OMEVVMM6 | 'VHfvV'o < — DWFfctttMV j oq>6\mm_ 17— -y —~r- 1 M I VV.4 J 1 XJCS U T ©1931 BY MO j

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Clambering ever upward over broken masses of jagged granite, it seemed to the two fugitives that they made no progress whatever. But at length the darkness lessened and they knew they were approaching the opening in the summit of the mountain. Shortly afterward they emerged into the brilliance of Pellucidar’s never-moving sun. “Now,” said Tarzan, “in which direction lies Zorara?” The girl pointed. “But we cannot reach it in the way I know. Carb and his fellows will not let us escape so easily.”

PAGE 15

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin