Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 240, Indianapolis, Marion County, 15 February 1932 — Page 13

FEB. 15, 1932

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BEGIN HERE TODAY Beautiful ELLEN ROSSITEH. a salesBirl in Barclay * Department Store, live# with her mother. MOLLY ROSS ITER, ter elder ulster. MYRA, and her young Brother. MIKE. . Molly foolishly spend* money saved to pav the rent. STEVEN BARCLAY, a •tan of 57 and Ellen's employer, lends her an evening dress so she can secure a lob dancing nights at DREAMLAND. At the dance hall she meets handsome LARRY HARROWOATE. an artist, and accepts his invitation to tea next day. Barclay sends her roses. Distressed that the gift Is not from Larry, Ellen quarrels with her mother and sister, who openly favor the wealthy Barclay. Mvra shows her a newspaper announcement of Larry’s engagement to ELIZABETH BOWES, a debutante. Broken-hearted, Ellen breaks her tea date with him. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TEN (Continued) If only Steven Barclay were less kind, if only he were a different sort of man from the generous and natural person he was, how easily she could solve that particular problem. How could she snub a man from whom she had accepted favors, a man whom she was determined not to hurt unless hurting him was the only way out? Ellen went to a movie that afternoon. She sat through two presentations of the same silly, sentimental picture but afterward she remembered nothing of the film except that the hero turned his head sometimes In a way reminding her of Larry Harrowgate. There was, unfortunately for her peace of mind, an illuminated clock visible to the audience. She watched the clock instead of the picture. As the hands came closer and closer to 4, the hour she was to have met Larry for tea, she found that it took all her resolution to steep from walking out of the theater and hastening to the hotel where she had promised to meet him. it u Four-fifteen. Larry would be wondering where she was, why she didn’t come. Perhaps if she went, if she were very cold, it would be all right. Surely just to sit chatting with him for a short while would be all right. Perhaps he meant to tell her that the engagement was broken. Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Listen,” hissed a voice in the darkness. “Don’t wiggle so, lady. I can’t see the picture for your head.” Ellen sat rigid. Four twenty-five now. Perhaps he had gone. Should she saunter through the lobby to see? The picture moved on toward a tragic denouncement. Sniffles rose from the audience; a few men coughed explosively. Pale blurs of handkerchiefs showed in the gray darkness. Ellen was dry-eyed, frantic with restlessness and indecision. At ten minutes to 5 she surrendered. At ten minutes to 5 a small

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section of the matinee audience was treated to the spectacle of a young girl who Jumped hastily from her seat and ran up the long, shadowy aisle toward the street. Ellen entered the lobby of the Hotel Vandervent at 5 o'clock. Her breath was coming quickly; her cheeks were crimson banners. She hesitated before she-plunged into Peacock Alley. It was not too late yet to retreat with her pride. But her pride was gone and she knew it. Larry was not there. By the time she hf'i made one hurried passage through the brilliant, mirrored alley she had assured herself of that. She assured herself of something else as well. She was glad, glad, glad! Glad that kind fate had taken him off before her folly had come to its consummation. She had lived through the longest afternoon of her life she thought —but she still lived. She was still young. And she had her pride again, a little battered perhaps, but substantially intact. Larry would never know she had come to meet him. After she had eaten a solitary dinner she felt considerably better. A girl of 20 finds it hard to maintain a mood of black depression. But when she reached Dreamland for the beginning of her second evening there she felt the black mood returning. How could she bear to dance again in the arms of another man where she had danced and laughed with Larry? CHAPTER ELEVEN TROUELES of the heart were by no means uncommon at Dreamland. Ellen had no idea that her misery was evident in her face or bearing, but the moment she entered the crowded, chattering dressing room, little Tony spied it out. She came over to where Ellen was dressing. “What’s eating you?” she demanded in a tone that blended curiosity and sympathy. “Nothing,” Ellen replied spiritlessly, as she kicked off her street shoes. “Meaning everything,” the other hazarded shrewdly. “Please don’t, Tony.” After a long, searching look Tony disappeared into the ballroom. Ellen stepped into the chiffon dress, adjusted the cunning little jacket and walked out of the dressing room. She sat down at her table. One by one the other girls straggled to their positions. The orchestra tuned up, struck into the first dance of the evening. Business had begun at Dreamland. It was a dull evening. Ellen

looked around In a kind of sickness. She felt listless and depressed, tired of herself, tired of life. Alter a while she began tracing Idle patterns on the table cloth. The patterns traced by her restless fingers became more definite. “Larry” * she scratched on the cloth and then “Larry Harrowgate.” After that slowly, slowly, Mrs. Lawrence Harrowgate." “Well, you're a fine one,” said a familiar voice. Ellen’s heart gave a great leap. She looked up into Larry’s half angry, half laughing eyes. “I waited for you all afternoon —that is, I really waited more than half an hour,” he was saying reproachfully. “Why didn’t you come?” . nun HE dropped to the chair opposite. Ellen’s breath came In quick, uneven spurts. Her heart hammered oddly. With trembling fingers she rubbed the cloth while he watched, a puzzled frown between his gray eyes. “Why didn't you come,” he repeated “I went to a movie,” she answered truthfully. “I didn’t notice the time until it was too late.” “Well!” he commented, discomfited. A dark flush rose under his tan. “You sorta made me think you loved me,” he observed. “I did,” she said faintly. ‘‘You don’t like me now?” “Why shouldn’t I?” “I didn’t ask if you should or shouldn't. I asked if you did. Have I done something that has made you change?” His gray earnest eyes were fixed upon her. She saw that he was concerned genuinely. It was disturbing that he should be like this. She would have understood better, have been better able to rebuff him, had he continued to be flippant and casual. “What have I done?” “Nothing,” she faltered. “I—l went to the hotel to meet you, but I got there too late. There! She had said what she had not meant to say. “Then everything’s all right and you do like me,” he summarized, his face lighting. “Yes.” “That’s over!” he said in relief. “Let's dance.” It wasn’t over, Ellen knew. She knew that he should have told her he was engaged. But as he swept her into his arms, as they glided out to the floor, she knew that, engaged or not, philanderer or not, Larry Harrowgate interested her more than any man she ever had met before. * tt QUNDAY morning breakfasts in the Rossiter household were invariably elastic. Mike, as usual, was up and about early. He ate from the kitchen table the prepared cereal and fruit which Ellen or Myra or, more rarely, his mother, put out for him the night before. Sometimes he would racket about the small apartment to the despair and fury of the sleepers. Generally, though, he curled up with a book to study. He was one of those youngsters who like studying. He represented the problem of the underprivileged city child. There was no place for him to play, except the street, and the street was no place for him to play. So he studied too much and his suppressed energy turned readily to nerves and tears. Molly Rossiter seldom stirred until late afternoon. Mike never disturbed her. Nothing short of fire or flood could disturb her Sunday mornings. Myra and Ellen usually breakfasted in bed about noon, taking turns preparing the sketchy meal. This morning it was Myra’s turn. (To Be Continued)

>TI<KEPS

I 3 4I 5 j~6~ 7 8 9/0 II 72 13 14 1/5 _/6_J7__/8_ , By properly rearranging eight of the above numbers you can make each row of four numbers—horizontal, vertical and diagonal—add to 42. *

Saturday’s Answer

bETTbR LaTE ThAN NEvER. “Better late than never” is the sentence made by substituting letters for the dots in the original puzzle.

TARZAN THE TERRIBLE

“Cease your mutterings,” conunanded Omat. “I am now your chief. My word is law. Some of you helped drive me away from the caves of my ancestors. The rest of y„ou permitted it. I owe you nothing therefore. I am ‘gund,’ since I have killed Es-sat in fair fight. If anyone doubts :.t, let him speak—he can not die younger!” Tarzan was pleased. Here was a man after his own heart!

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 ape-man admired the fearlessness of Om-at’s challenge. Being a good judge of men, Tarzan knew he had listened to no idle bluff. Om-at would back up his words to the death, if necessary. Evidently most of the Kor-ul-ja'ians thought the same, for no one appeared inclined to dispute his rights. “I will make you a good chief,” said Om-at. ‘ Your wives and daughters will be safe; they were not safe while Es-sat ruled.”

—By Ahern

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"Away now, to your crops and hunting. I leave to search for Pan-at-lee. Ab-on win be ‘gund’ until I return.” He turned to Tarzan and the Ho-Don, saying: “You, my friends, are free to go among my people. Do what you will. "I,” replied Tarzan, "will go with you to search for your she.” "And I,” said To-den. Om-at smiled. “Good!” he exclaimed. But WHERE to search, was a problem. Pan-at-lee had gone to her cave with the others the night before. Now there was absolutely no clew to her disappearaface.

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

PT7 W sin* In

“Show me her cave,” said Tarzan, “and something that belongs to her—then perhaps, I can help you.” Two young warriors climbed closer to the ledge where Om-at stood. “ ‘Gund’ of Kor-ul-ja,” spoke one, ‘we would go with you to search for Pan-at-lee.” It was the first open acknowledgment of Om-at's chieftainship and now the tenseness that had prevailed seemed to relax. The warriors, ceased whispering, the frightened women came from their cf ves and the whole tribal life began again as with the passing of a sudden storm.

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin