Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 290, Indianapolis, Marion County, 13 April 1932 — Page 15

' SAPKIL r 1932

rtii mm huitpgr/ # BY MABEL McELLIOTT 0/932 3Y USA tftVKt WC-

BEGIN HERE TODAY RtTRAN CARjry. stpnosrspher In the rr* Os ERNEST HEATH. Architect. * w ith her AUNT JESIE on Clriesfto * >St Side BEN LAMPMAN. moody >oune musician, admire* her and introduce# her to Bohemian crowd which •he finds rather tiresome. JACK V.’ARXNG. emoloved In the ##me as Susan, tries to flirt with her. but she discourages him. She finds she is becinntne to rare deenlT for 808 DUNBAR voune millionaire whom she net. st business school. At lunch one dav Bob is interrupted In a declaration of his feeling for her hv the arrival of DENISE ACKROYD. also wealthy. Susan Is terribly dlsap- ( fcointed. . , . . , Bob does not telephone, departs for fcurope MRS HEATH, wife of Susan s employer, calls at the office and snubs th<* girl. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTEEN AUNT JESSIE was going away. It was astonishing, but true. Her sister, who lived in a little town in southern Illinois, had undergone R rather serious operation and was convalescing. She wanted Aunt ’ Jessie to come. “I declare, it doesn’t seem right!” Aunt Jessie kept saying over and over. “It seems a pity you couldn’t go and stay with the Miltons inutead of having Rose come over iiere, "But what with those cousins of theirs visiting from Des Moines, I suppose we can’t help it.” She •ighed again, frowning, folded her best Philippine nightgown and Wrapped her bedroom slippers in ■tissue paper. "T don’t see why you make such R fuss,” Susan said capably, trying | t/> help and not succeeding very: well. "You always say yourself that! Rose Is so sensible, and, after all, you won’t be gone more than two Weeks.” Aunt Jessie kept grumbling that It didn’t seem right and she declared she was at her wits’ end. But she went, nevertheless. ' This was on a Sunday morning. {After Susan had seen her aunt off t the dismal old station she came bark to a house strangely empty •nd quipt. She walked through the prim, familiar rooms with the sensation of seeing them for the first time, and when Rose came over to Join her at a lazy. 2 o'clock dinner the kitchen rang with the sudden, foolish, irresistible laughter of two poung things set free. They used the best embroidered •tablecloth and the thin cups which Susan’s great-grandmother had brought out with her from "York state.” Aunt Jessie would have been scandalized at the idea of this casual enjoyment of her dearest treasures. The tablecloth and china generally were reserved for wedding and funerals, but since Susan saw no Chance of the one and hoped there Blight be none for the other, she made the most of this golden moment. If was fun even to wash dishes with Rose. Susan hung, weak with ’laughter, over a kitchen chair as her friend described with embellishments the peculiarities of the head of her department. "Stop! Please don’t tell me any more!” Susan begged, wiping her eyes. Naturally, Rose, delighted at this tribute to her powers as a mimic, continued the performance. As Susan rinsed out the last clean dish towel, she glanced with aston- ’ ishment at the clock. "It can't be half past 3!” she said, appalled. They discussed the rela-

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tive merits of a walk to the park or a trolley ride to one of the beaches, but somehow reached no decision. They dawdled out to the back porch, where, in a delicious confusion of Sunday newspapers, cracking taffy wTappers, and the shouts of the children next door, they idled away the afternoon. m m m THAT was the beginning of Susan's real holiday. Os course, she would have no actual vacation this year, since she only had started to work, but It was’ enough for her at the moment to feel the exquisite Importance of being mistress of her own domain. There came, however, the inevitable day when Rose, always popular and In demand, telephoned that she could not get home for dinner. ‘T see. Os course you must go. Have a good time and don’t be too late. No, I won’t leave the door open. You ring twice and I’ll hear you.” Susan’s tone sounded cheerful but she hung up the receiver with a sense of dismay. The long summer evening stretched out emptily before her. She stood up to find Jack Waring twinkling at her. "What’s the matter? Somebody stand you up?” he bantered. Susan shook her head. "The girl who’s staying with me while my aunt is away has a date,” she explained, hoping her voice didn't sound as forlorn as she felt. The man smiled. "Come along with me,” he said casually. "Some friends of mine are driving out to a place on the Milwaukee road, where they have grand music. I’ll take good care of you and get you home early.” Susan hesitated. There was no denying it, the prospect was alluring. In addition, the man’s tone and manner were so quietly reassuring, so nearly paternal that she felt rather silly as she demurred. "Nonsense,” Waring said briskly. “You Just say ‘no’ as a matter of form without thinking. I can see that.” His conjecture was so close to the truth that Susan flushed. After all, wasn’t it foolish of her to go home alone, eat an uninteresting and solitary supper and moon about waiting for Rose to return, when friendship, gaiety, music and laughter were hers for the stretching out of her hand? Irrationally she wondered if this had been the way Eve felt about the serpent. Then she smiled and shrugged because the metaphor was so far-fetched. Jack Waring, in his conservative dark suit, perfectly groomed and agreeably friendly, was as little like a serpent as any one could possibly imagine. She was seized 'with an unconstrollable impulse. "I’ll go,” she said. “I’d love to.” He was so businesslike about it all, putting her address down in his small notebook, that Susan banished as idiotic the suspicion that for an instant there had been a flash of triumph in his eyes. He was to call for her at 7. Much as she disliked tne idea of the neighbors peering at his long, blue roadster with its shattering horn,

she insisted on this. For one thing she remembered Aunt Jessie's dictum, "If a man can’t call for a girl at her own home then I say there’s something wrong. These fly-by-nighta who meet boys on street comers will come to no good.” It was curious that Susan should think of this and be so insistent about it, because she had heard Aunt Jessie say It so many times and It always had Irritated her. * m m SHE rushed homeward, Impatient of the many delays. The westbound trolley seemed unusually slow and Jerky. The conductor dropped the token she handed him, passengers fumbled their transfers, and at every crosstown line there were maddening waits. Why she was so excited at the prospect of an evening with Waring Susan could not have exactly said. Perhaps it was his reputation as a lady’s man, gleamed from hints dropped by Pierson. Perhaps it was the memory of the dozen and one dally telephone calls which he received. Most of the voices were provocatively feminine. Susan could not help hearing Waring’s part in some of these conversations. He called all of them "darling.” She knew that and was a little contemptuous of It, believing in her young arrogance (and who shall say not rightly?) that the charming English term of endearment should be reserved for the chosen one instead of scattered to the crowd. But ever since the day when the man had shown such sympathetic understanding of her position—the day Mrs. Heath had so unmercifully snubbed her—Susan had come to take a more charitable view of him. After all, she argued, men

A DAY 8Y BRUCE CAITQN WHEN a sudden, life-and-death crisis comes, you don’t decide how you are going to meet it. What you are decides for you—the things you’ve done in past years, the dreams you've dreamed, the kind of person you’ve permitted or persuaded yourself to become. You fun true to form, and you can't help yourself. This theme runs through “Ithuriel’s Hour,” a crisp and cleverly handled novel by Joanna Cannan. The central character is Sir Clement Vyse, one of those cold-water-bath English sportsmen. He sets out to scale a lonely peak in the Himalayas, taking with him his son and half a dozen kindred spirits, and finds it a tougher job than he had expected. But Sir Clement had been one of Britain’s empire builders in his youth, and he’d never been able to forget it. The one thing he reaTly believed in was the virtue of doing exactly what he set out to do, regardless of the cost. So, in the end, he scaled the mountain and came back to England a famous explorer. But he had to commit two murders to do it. ‘‘lthuriel’s Hour” is published by Doubleday, Doran <te Cos., and is priced at $2.50.

STKKEPS ■ 1 - - - 1 —~—V Hen eggs are one half cent apieceduck eggs are two cents apiece —gooae eggs are three cents apiece. How many of each does a man buy with 20 cents, m order to have exactly 20 eggs? , Yesterday's Answer The above shows hoW a farmet planted 19 trees in such a way that there were live in a row and nine straight rows, ft

TARZAN THE TERRIBLE

Frothing with rage was the baffled high priest when he realized how neatly the stranger had turned his own tables upon him. Feeling his way across the floor to avoid the open trap, he climbed to the same window through which Tarsan had entered an hour before and which now was Lu-don’s only exit. Outside, he decided to bide his time until treachery should accomplish his design. “The she-devU. w he muttered, “dearly she shall pay for defying Jad-bcri-Otho’s high priest ”

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

couldn’t all be alike. She began to feel that she had misunderstood Waring. Pierson said Jack’s wife had given him "a dirty deal.” Maybe that was true. It was at this stage in her reflections that the car, jerking, wheezing, and groaning, reached her corner and She was glad to alight, finding the air under the locust trees of her own block much more agreeable than that o t the trolley. In her own room, she wriggled out of her clothes and ran the tub almost to the brim. She was glad

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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Later, in his own quarters there came to him the startling news that the king was murdered and fighting against Mo-sar, the pretender, was raging throughout A-lur's streets, led by Ja-don. “Ja-don!” muttered the high priest, “the fools will make him king if we do not act quickly.” Soon messengers were speeding from Lu-don to raise the lie that Ja-don sought not only to wrest the throne from the dead king’s daughter, but that Ja-don, blasphemer that he was, would destroy the priests and hurl down the altars.

Rose had given her those geranium scented bath crystals for her birthday. It was her favorite scent If everything had irked her on' the homeward ride now everything seemed suddenly right How lucky it was that her flowered chiffon, her only "party” dress worthy of the name, had been returned from the cleaners the day before! How lucky it was she had washed her hair Monday night! How lucky she was to have a natural wave, ihtensifled by the summer heat so that all she had to do was press her fingers into the little

ridges to make her head a dark, shining, cap of undulation! mm m SHE was ready long before 7 o’clock. While she waited she began to feel the agitation of a diver about to take the great plunge. Her mind revolved in busy whirligigs. What if Aunt Jessie should happen in without warning? What if Mrs. McLeod, who always watched the goings and comings of the neighborhood from behind her starched curtains, should spread the rumor that Susan Carey was becoming "fast?”

—By Ahern

He called his trusted underpriest. “Saw or heard you anything of the white she we had Imprisoned in the “Temple of the Gryf?" he asked. “Only that Ja-don took her to the palace,” answered the man, “after threatening the •priests that hindered him. Where she is now, I know not.” Lu-don thought a moment, and then said: “Ko-tan ordered her to the Forbidden Garden. Go there, Pan-sat, and bring me news. ’ Behind the curtained aperture a hideously masked priest hid, listening to every word.

Susan shuddered. To be "fast" in the little community where she lived was to be quite beyond the plae. Although Chicago is a metropolis, in its neighborhood groups there exists much of the spirit of the average small town. Susan's reverie was interrupted by the sharp peal of the door bell. She caught up her gloves in a flurry and for the hundredth time wished she had a proper summer evening wrap instead of the wretched old black coat from last season. She opened the door with Angers that shook a little.

OUT OUR WAY

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There he stood, seeming tallr/ than usual, and, as always, perfectly turned out. Susan closed the door of the cot : tage primly behind her. Aunt Jes sie always had told her that a lad} never received a gentleman at hom£ alone. Waring smiled suddenly as if he caught the reason for her abrupt gesture. "I won’t bite, you know.” he said with mild raillery and Susan went scarlet. It was annoying to be so transparent. (To Be Continued)

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

As Pan-sat moved across the chamber to obey, the hidden figure withdrew Into the shadows of a nearby passage. The former went his way in ignorance of the silent creature following him as he hurried toward the sscret passage from the temple of Jad-ben-Otho to the city beyond. The way led along the corridor which ran parallel with the face of theiriifT for some distance, and then Pansat, taking a lighted cresset from a nich, turned abruptly into a small apartment.

PAGE 15

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin