Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 286, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 April 1932 — Page 27

APRIL 8, 1932.

4 mm HuriTGR/ m BY MABEL McELLIOTT •/S2 ay aka ttrvKt me.

BEGIN HERE TODAY BTJBAN CAREY. n oroh*n who llv* Wlih her AUNT JESSIE on Chlcoiro * west :de, finishes her course at business •chool where she has met 808 DUNBAR, son of a millionaire. She secure' temporary work as secretary to ERNEST HEATH, oromlnent architect. Susan has a moody vouna admirer In the person of BEN LAMPMAN. who Is musical and gains Aunt Jessie’s trudging approval. RAY FLANNERY, who works In the office across the hell. Is sn amusing. , slanev girl and Is friendly. Susan la almost in tears one day trying to copy t letter In n old-fashioned letter Brest When JACK WARINO. Heath's assistant appears and helps her. He is a flirtatious man and Susan has to renei his advances. Heath things ahe is encouraging Waring and is annoyed NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER NINE SUSAN came out of Ernest Heath’s office shaken, but serene. The dreaded interview was over and with it had gone her sense of wrathful shame. Jack Waring had apologized manfully, had taken the entire blame for the awkward scene. All Mr. Heath had said to Susan was, “Waring has explained he was annoying you and has promised It won’t happen again.” He had directed a cold, angry glance at the young man. Waring, who evidently enjoyed the playing of this particular role, had made a gallant little gesture of defeat and accepted his dismissal with dramatically bowed head. “That’s all. Miss Carey,” Heath had concluded. “And now will you take a letter, please?” It had been as simple as that! B B M NOTHING, Susan felt, would surprise her after the events of this altogether surprising day. Over and over again on the way home in 'a street car teeming with hot humanity she rehearsed the little scene. She could not help admitting that Waring had behaved rather well. But of course it had been his own fault, she assured herself. Her checks burned at the memory. “What did you say, Aunt Jessie?” Susan asked absently as she accepted from her aunt’s gnarled 'hand the plate heaped with potato salad and cold ham. Her aunt snapped, “I said that

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young fellow called twice tonight Just before you got into the house and said he'd be out around 8." "What young fellow?” Susan said, startled out of her daze. Primly Aunt Jessie replied, “Mr. Lampman, of course.” • Susan stared. “And you said—you told him it would be all right?" Aunt Jessie sniffed. “I did,” she said flatly. Susan scarcely could belfeve her ears. The idea of Aunt Jessie sponsoring a young man was too preposterous. “I wish you hadn’t,” she demurred. “I’m tired and look a wreck and besides he bores me to tears.” “He is a very nice young man," Aunt Jessie said levelly. "I think the least you can do Is show your manners when he takes such an interest.” Susan’s curiosity was piqued. “How do you know he’s nice?” she asked. Aunt Jessie tossed her head. “I forgot to tell you he came over the other night when you were at Rose’s and we had a real nice visit. I declare, I don’t know when I’ve met such a steady-going, sensible boy.” Susan lowered her lids to conceal the imp of mischief dancing in her eyes. She was annoyed, none the less. Wasn’t it just like Aunt Jessie, she thought, to sponsor Ben? The heat had been increasing all day so that now, in the stillness of early evening, it seemed actually unendurable. Susan had looked forward to a lazy evening after the supper dishes were done. She wanted to lounge on the tiny back porch in the fewest garments possible. That pleasant plan she now must abandon. Wearily she dried cups and plates and knives and spoons. In silence she dawdled to her room. She hated the thought of entertaining the moody young man Aunt Jessie had chosen for her to smile upon! She could not, this once, fathom her aunt’s motives. Usually Aunt Jessie shunned the bare notion of a suitor for Susan.

THE girl strained back her curia, creamed and splashed and rinsed her face. She bathed and got into fresh clothing. In spite of herself and her almost sullen determination not to feel better, Susan’s spirits began imperceptibly to rise. She felt a sense of elation as she surveyed herself in the spotted, ancient glass of the oak dresser In her room. A fitful breeze, tiny and yet undeniably a breeze, swung her window curtains. It was good to be alive, to be cool and rested after the dreadful day, she decided. Her mood changed. Why shouldn’t she after all, be nice to Ben Lampman? Ray Flannery took every masculine sigh and glance as tribute. Probably Ray was right. Susan had noticed before this that the elusive attribute, charm, usually surrounded those lucky girls who were said by their mates to be “popular.” Popular! That terrific and overwhelming word on which the destinies of the young so often hung. Susan wanted to be popular, didn’t she? Well, then, why not begin by taking as a gift of the gods the admiration of Ben Lampman? Life was so strange, Susan reflected, as she set the wave in her hair with abstracted but skillful fingers. Six months before she would have crowed with delight at the notion of Aunt Jessie’s allowing her to have a masculine caller. Well, she would look the gift horse in the face no longer! She would smile and be pleasant and listen to Ben Lampman’s moody conversation. She, too, would be charming! Promptly at 8 the young man arrived, almost pathetically neat in his brushed blue serge. Ben was the longlocked type of youth who honestly believes temperament and untidiness go hand in hand—but he was the very pattern of neatness this evening. “Hello!” he said, surrendering his shabby hat. Susan moved over on the porch swing, and Aunt Jessie smiled as benevolently as possible. “I thought maybe—l wondered if you’d like to go over to see some friends of mine on the north side,” he fumbled. “They’re very artistic. They’re nice and you’d like them. Having a little sort of party in their studio.” Susan could almost see Aunt Jessie’s hair rise at the word. Aunt Jessie with her puritanical visions of undraped models and painters in velvet smocks inquired stiffly, “What kind of folks are they? I’m not sure I want Susan to go.” Ben began volubly to explain. They were all right he said. The Strinskys. Arnold Strinsky made leather screens and doo-dads. A sort of Venetian work. His wife did magazine illustrations. “Polocks?” Aunt Jessie inquired suspiciously. Ben said very solemnly “No.” Arnold was a Russian and so was his wife, Sonya. Susan liked the sound of that name. It made her think of a camellia-white face beneath a head of seal-black hair. Aunt Jessie looked as if she thought Russians little better than the “Polocks” she disliked so much, but after a moment or two of consideration she grudgingly consented. “If you’ll have Susan home by half past 10,” she stipulated. b tt n THE house in which the Strinkys lived was an old brownstone on the north side, not far from Lincoln park. Ben, who had

5TKK£ft5 gjk hmhlm A man bought eight boxes of oranges, each containing 20 dozen, at $1.20 per hundred. He sold half of the oranges at 8 for 15 cents. Half of the remaining half spoiled and he sold the balance at 12 for 15 cents. What was his profit, or !° ? <F ,

Yesterday's Answer

IF LITTLE JACK CAN COME TO TEA. 1 SHALL INDEED BE W CLAD) HOhJ TQUIV VEXED LdE ALL SHALL BE . IF AUCHT AT HOME DETAINS WE LAP / IF LITTLE JACK CAN COME TO TEA - HOH TQULV VEXED UJE ALL SHALL BE; 1 SHALL INDEED BE ' VEQV GLAD IF AUGHT AT HOME , DETAINS THE LAD/ ' By reversing the positions of lines two and three, of the top poem, the sense is changed, as shown in the lower poem.

TARZAN THE TERRIBLE

‘‘Tell me, woman, why you warned me!” demanded Ja-don, the Lion-Man, who now knew that the prisoner before him had saved him from the high priest’s plan to hurl him into the gryfs den. “Anything were better than being in Lu-don’s hands,” she answered. “You look a brave and honorable warrior. 1 could not see you made a victim of that fiend. Now I throw myself upon your mercy.” The grim warrior regarded her for several moments and then Ko-tan would make you his queen. Surely that be honorable treatment from one who could make you his slave.”

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

been in New York, told Susan the place was Just like Greenwich Village and Susan believed him. She was a little awed at her good fortune In being introduced to such a charmed circle. The main room of the Strinsky flat was a shock to her at first. The walls were painted with splashes of red and orange. There was a black corduroy couch in one corner and a samovar on a kitchen table that had been painted blue. About the room on soiled cush-wis and on a few crude chairs were scattered the guests. Sonya Strinsky, who was a pale, oily-haired girl

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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“The king believes you are one of the race of gods,” he added, "and having but a single daughter, he desires a son.” "I do not want him or his throne,” cried the woman. “Ko-tan is king,” replied Ja-don, simply, as though that settled everything. “Come. We will go to the Forbidden Garden. There you will remain with O-10-a, his daughter, until your marriage day.” At the temple’s entrance two grotesquely , masked priests attempted to prevent their leaving. “She passes by order of Ko-tan, the king,” scowled Ja-don. “Stand aside 1”

wearing a lavender smock, admitted them. She had long, tired, hazel eyes and her hand was limp. She did not in the least resemble Susan's notion of a Russian princess. The hall smelt of cabbage, and there was a drift of smoke in the room through which Susan could just perceive the white blurs of faces. A gabble of voices rose. The place sqemed intolerably hot. Sonya said To Ben: “You’re just in time. They want to dance and you’re to play for them.” The young man protested, but was ; dragged to the battered piano in the

comer end Susan left to fend for herself. It was rather an uncomfortable moment. She dropped Into a chair someone had vacated and tried to appear interested as Ben pounded out a jazz tune and two or three weary-looking couples swayed to and fro. Sonya excused herself. She said she must go out and help Arnold, who was preparing drinks. Susan’s head began to ache and she wished she had not come. She began to suspect that perhaps she was not really seeing life, after all. A fat man, informally attired in

—By Ahern

They came at last to the quarters of the Princess, where Ja-don relinquished his charge to the guard before O-10-a’s apartment. “Take her to the princess,” he commanded, “and see that she does not escape.” Before a doorway, concealed by ja-toskin hangings, the eunich halted, and beat with his staff upon the wail. "Princess of Pal-ul-don,” he cried, “here is the strange woman, the prisoner from the temple.” “Bid her enter,” answered a sweet voice. As Lady stepped inside the hanging she beheld a richly decorated room.

polo shirt and white slacks, approached and asked her to dance. She did not even know his name. Susan lied, sisprised at her own resourcefulness. “I hurt my ankle —playing tennis.” The fat man sat down crosslegged on the floor beside her and began to talk. Did she like Tilden’s style of play? What did she think of Borotra? And Helen Wills? The dancing abruptly stopped and the dancers drifted to their seats, allowing Ben to leave the piano. Talk flew. Susan was bewildered by the

OUT OUR WAY

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words and the new names. Cezann* —technique is rotten —Louis is living on the Left Bank now—Debussy —can't stand the modernists. Sonya brought in a tin tray with drinks. Susan frowned over her* and left it untasted. She heard Ben’s low voice, "You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.” She turned to him gratefully. Re was looking anxious. No doubt Aunt Jessie had impressed him with her views. • (To Be Continued)

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Attended by a single female slave, O-10-a, princess of the House of Ko-tan, lay upon a pile of furs covering a stone dias. She beckoned the stranger woman to approach, and when she stood beside her, O-10-a half arose upon an elbow 1 and surveyed Jane critically. “How beautiful you are,” she said simply. And she who had found that beauty may be a curse, replied: “That is indeed a compliment from one so radiant as the Princess O-10-a.” “Ah! You speak our language," cried the princess delightedly. "I was told that you were of anothe? race from some far land of which we had never beard.”

27

—By Williams

—By Blosser:

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin