Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 12, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 May 1932 — Page 13

MAY 25, 1932

LEAP YEAP BPIDE g

< Continued From F*v On#) th# Twelfth street side of the building. It was thickly carpeted and furnished In shades of wood green, bronze and ivory. Group* of over•tulTed chairs, benches and four high-backed lounges were arranged near the iron work railing to overlook the first floor. Small desks and chairs stood beside the wall. The lighting was dim because heavy draperies shut out the daylight and only small desk lamps supplemented it. The young man in gray gained the top step and looked about. None of the persons in sight seemed to interest him. There was a stout man in dark-rimmed spectacles writing at the nearest desk. Farther on. two matrons engaged in conversation. one of them gesticulating emphatically. At the extreme end of the gallery a small boy was bobbing about after a mechanical toy. The young man stepped forward uncertainly. All at once he caught sight of a beige shoulder nearly hidden by the sides of a wing-backed chair. He made for that chair. "So there you are!" ‘Oh. Dan—!" ‘Cherry P’ Browm eyes laughed up at gray ones The girl was prettier when she smiled. The green velour of the chair was a perfect background for her coloring. The small, rather oval face was creamy Ivory, except where tinges of rose burned through on each cheek. Curling lashes made the dark eves darker Her lips were crimson, possibly explained by the silver vanity case she held Nature had designed those lips a trifle wide, but the effect was charming. Any expert would have said, too, that Cherry Dixons nose was a fraction .short of classic standards. Somehow the defect increased instead of detracted from the piquant total. The tilted brim of her close-fit-ting brown hat revealed a crescent of darx hair over one temple. Except for the brown hat and coral lu-arf. Cherry was entirely in beige —beige suit and sweater, beige pumps and cobweb hose, gloves and even a purse of the same shade. The tone suited her perfectly. a a a Dm AN PHILLIPS pulled the nearest chair nearer and swung into it. "A thousand pardons if I'm late! he began. "I had three clocks and a watch and I set 'em all—" • Rut you're not late. You're five minutes ahead of time. See? Cherry held up a slender wrist banded with platinum. The tiny oblong dial on the platinum band recorded 25 minutes past one. “I—l came In early for some errands and finished them sooner than I expected.” she added. Prevarication No. II for Miss Cherry DDixon that day. but surely she must keep him guessing at her eagerness. "Then it’s all right. Os course the three clocks each keep different time and I couldn't be sure —excuse me. Miss Dixon, but I’ve got to stop right here and tell you that of all God's fairest creatures you are the prettiest, the most utterly devastating—!” "Please. Mr. Phillips!’’ The cheeks were crimson, but the girl's eyes were laughing. "Mr. Phillips? I thought it was going to be 'Dan' from now on?” "Well, then. Dan. stop it. You're making fun of me!” "If I ever heard blasphemy ! Coyotes and cuttlefish! Why, my dear young woman, I'd as soon cut off my right arm. What I really meant to say was that the prettiest girl in the world is looking prettier than she has any right to look. "What's goipg to come of this? You can't keep it up. you know These old eyes won't stand it. You can't keep getting more beautiful every time I see you!" Cherry rose to meet the teasing. She said demurely. "Sorry, sir. You can always look away, you know." "But that's just what I can't do—and don't want to. Say, arc you as hungry as I am?” The abrupt change of subject made the girl laugh. "Perishing,’’ she said. "Positively perishing!" "Then let's find food!” Phillips snapped two fingers together with a resounding crack and was on his feet. Cherry arose and for an instant they stood there, the girl's

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head only a little above the youth's shoulder. Her eyes held a dancing light cf happiness. The young man's face sobered. He touched her srai and together they moved toward the stairs. mam T-'IVE minutes later they faced rach other across a narrow table In the hotel's ivory and blue dining room. Phillips had finished giving the order. "And how did you improve the shining morning hours?' he asked. "Oh, doing lots of things. Mother's having a small tea next week and I helped with the invitations. Then some dresses came and when I tried them on they were all wrong and I had to telephone about sending them back and arrange for a fitting. "After that, Sarah gave me a shampoo and a manicure, and—let's see—oh, yes. I called Aunt Clara to see if she wanted some concert tickets, and she talked about half an hour. She always des. That's all. I guess." "The life of the idle rich!" Dan Phillips sighed with meek sympathy. "Lord—you must be frazzled.” "How about yourself? What kind of a busy bee have you been?" "Shall I tell you?” Phillips leaned forward, grinning. "Rolled out of bed at exactly 12 o'clock—according to my four time-pieces. I locked at them all, added what the minute hands said, subtracted the hours, multiplied, took the square root and then called the operator downstairs. She told me it was 12 o'clock. The boy s clever—what?" ' That the laziest kind of morning I ever heard of." "True enough." Phillips agreed. “But listen, child. Old Uncle Daniel was out until 2:30 this a. m. looking for that kidnaped James kid." "The one who was stolen? Oh—did you find him?" "No. unfortunately! Just as I was leaving the office last night a phony tip came in and Bates told me to hop on it. Woman telephoned the kid had been seen out near Somerset. I went out with a couple of deputies and we covered every square foot of the damned place. "Don't suppose you've ever been to Somerset. No? Well, congratulate yourself. Anyhow, it was just another evening wasted and the esteemed Wellington News none the better for it. We didn’t get back into town until after 1 o'clock.” "And they haven't found the little boy?” "Not according to the noon edition. Personally, I don't think they ever will." "Oh. but I hope they do! I was so sorry for that poor mother when I read about It. The way she’d been planning his birthday party and the new tricycle she'd bought. It seems dreadful!" "Sure, it's hard on tty* parents. Nice people, too. But it's been a week and there hasn’t been a single clew that led anywhere.” . a a a THE waiter set glass-domed plates before them. Sweetbread patty and asparagus for Cherry. A roast and vegetables for Dan. "Coffee now, sir?” the waiter asked. They decided to have the coffee later. The girl broke a bit of Melba toast and buttered it. "When you talk about the places you go and people you see.” she said, "I'm so envious. It must be wonderful to be at the center of things, always right there when something exciting is happening! It must be thrilling.” "Sometimes,” * Phillips agreed. "Most of the time though it's just pounding sidewalks or sitting around waiting for something to happen. Why, we haven't had a real story except the James case for weeks. You get fed up on it." "But the thrill of seeing your name at the top of a column—and on the front page, too! That must be wonderful." Phillips smiled. "It was." he said, "four years ago. The day I got my first by-line you'd have thought someone had just handed me a couple of railroads. That was in Kansas City—Kansas, not Missouri. As I remember, it wasn't a bad story I'd written either.”

’ "How long have you worked on newspapers. Dan?” "Oh. about five years, counting summer vacations. I've been on the News eighteen months now. That's almost a record! Before that I was on the Sentinel for six months.” "But you've been so many other places. You’ve worked on papers in lots of cities, haven't you? You know what you said about the way I spent the morning? I wish I didn't have to do things like that. I wish Father would let me learn to—well, to work in his office or something." “You'd distract ail the men!” "Silly! Os course, the real reason is because father doesn't approve of girls working. He's terribly old-fash-ioned. Mother is. too." "That's not old-fashioned. If you'll tell me one reason in the world why the daughter of Walter J. Dixon should bang a typewriter—” "Oh, but it’s not just about me that he feels that way. Father doesn’t think any girls should work." Phillips smiled wryly. He doesn't exactly look with favor on young men of the press, either, does he?” he asked. The girl was startled. “Why, he doesn’t even know she began. Phillips cut in. "Doesn't know his daughter has made the acquaintance of a poor news slave named Daniel Phillips? Oh. no. I merely heard the financial editor giving an account of a first hand encounter with your father. Boy—how that man loves the Fourth estate! ‘Scandal mongers.’ ‘Picture snatchers.’ Those were a few of his pet names." The dark lashes lowered. "His daughter doesn't think those thing," the girl said. a a a THEIR eyes met. There was a moment's silence and then Cherry went on hurriedly. "It's because father doesn't understand. He's so terribly dignified and—well, he just doesn't understand! All his life father's been giving orders and seeing people jump to

7TSGDK a mo 8Y BRUCE CATTON

THE never-ending conflict between “poor white trash" and Negroes in the isolated backwoods land of an American state provides the theme of “Amber Satyr,” by Roy Flannagan. The central figure of this novel is a Negro man—a tawny giant of a man, who lives on the fringes of a lonely swamp and works as farmhand for a down-at-the-heels white man. This employer is a chronic invalid and a chronic failure, inferior to the black man in every way but the color of his skin. And his wife, restless and highly-strung, finds her husband a weakling, a poor stick of a man who hardly deserves comparison with his African servant. So she becomes enamored of the black man. Discovering her attitude, the frightened Negro runs away and becomes a laborer In the state capital; and while he is there he joins with other swamp Negroes in a queer "racial equality” fight—an effort to get the legislature to recognize the swamp Negroes as Indians instead of Negroes, so that they will not need to observe Jim Crow laws. This effort fails. naturally enough; and the luckless Negro is decoyed back to his home by the white woman’s male relatives, who have found out how she feels about things, and is quietly killed. All of this makes a story of unrelieved tragedy; but Mr. Flannagan has handled things competently, and he keeps your attention to the end. You'll find "Amber Satyr" interesting—and instructive. It is published by Doubleday, Doran & Cos., and costs $2.

STICKERS

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Yesterday's Answer

jl 1 ■ The dealer gained $5. A gain of 40 per cent of ihe SIOO cost would make the wle price $l4O. Seventy-five per cent of the sale price, or what he collected. would be $lO5, or $5 more than the cost. C Jr

TARZAN AND THE ANT MEN

For an hour and a half Tarzan guided his biplane, hardly realizing the great distance he had covered, so delighted and thrilled was he by this new power that gave him the freedom of the air. Always before had he envied the birds, the only inhabitants of his beloved jungle w’hose powers he had ever had cause to envy. Presently, ahead, he discerned a great series of basins surrounded by wooded huls. and immediately he recognized to the left of it the winding Ugogo river.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

obey them. Os course he's really wonderful, but he has so many oldfashioned ideas—" "You don't have to tell me! Blue ribbon aristocracy with three rings around it—that’s the Dixon family. Money bags and the good ship Mayflower! Cherry. Cherry, to think the likes of you should be seen in a public eating place with that low-down Dan Phillips!" "He's not low-down and he's practically the only friend I have! Dan. do you realize it's been terribly lonesome for me here in Wellington?" "Lonesome! Haven't you the

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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cream of the town’s society to pick from? Haven't you lived here since infancy?” “I was bom here. I've lived here of course, too, but when I was a little girl there weren't half a dozen children I was allowed to play with. When I was 12 they sent me to school in France. The last two years I've been at Miss Rathbur ne's. "During vacations I came home, but the boys and girl* S'. used to know aren't here and I can’t seem to get acquainted with the others. They’ve gone to western schools and they talk about fraternities and

The scene was new to him and he was puzzled. Now he realized he was over a hundred miles from home, and he determined to put back at once; but the mystery of the basin country lured him on to a cloaer view of it. He wondered why he had never come upon this country in his many wanderings, why he had not even heard of it from the natives. Dropping to a lower level, he now discovered the basins were a series of shallow craters of long extinct volcanoes. *

sororities and all aorta of sports I don't understand. Father doesn't approve of girls playing golf and tennis, so I never learned. "It's because he hates country clubs. And I’ve never seen a football game. In school at Miss Rathbume's I had a good time, but now that I'm home again, it is so lonesome!” Phillips’ face sobered “"Poor little rich girl who has everything in the world except what she wants! Cherry—l'm a swell one to be saying it but if there's ever anything in this world I can do for

—By Ahern

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Suddenly she solution of the mystery dawned upon him, and he knew it was the socalled Great Thom Forest. He had indeed heard of the impenetrable thicket supposed to cover a vast area and into which only the smallest of animals could venture. Now, from above, he saw it was but a relatively narrow fringe encircling a pleasant, habitable country, but a fringe so cruelly barbed as to have forever protected the secret that it held from the eyes of man.

you all you have to do is say the word. You know’ that, don't you?” ( The pink flush came into the | girl's cheeks again. "You've been doing things for me ever since the minute I first sax you!" "One month ago today, wasn't it? That's why were celebrating.'' They both laughed. As vividly as though it had been yesterday, j Cherry Dixon pictured that first meeting. A sleeting March day with slippery pavements. Herself, snugly wxapped in beaver, at the wheel of the green roadster. The approach to the Court street bridge

OUT OUR WAY

and sudden change in traffic lights. Another car dose behind her. The ! crash! She had no idea f the events that crowded aftar that. Someone had helped the terrified girl from the roadster. Thera had been shouts and swarming, curious races. She had heard a man call •‘Get a doctor!" ahd another. "Hcs not hurt!" Then policemen were ordering the crowd to mow back. (To Be Continued)

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Tanan dropped the plane nearer to earth. Absorbed as he was in this strange new sight, he permitted the biplane to drop too low. Just as he realized it, and before he could move the control with his hand, the plane touched the top of a mighty monarch of the jungle, veered, swung completely around and crashed downward through the foliage amidst the snapping and rending of broken branches and the splintering of its own woodwork. Just for a second, this—and then silence.

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin