Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 35, Indianapolis, Marion County, 21 June 1932 — Page 9

jyNE 21, 1932.

LEAP YEAR BRIDE H

' _ BEGIN HEM TODAY CIiERRY DIXON. Drettv l-y*r-o!(i <l*uhtr of wealthy parent* f*U* in ve with DAN PHILLIPS, newspaper reporter. She anarrela with her father •bows, Dan. leave* home and. taklna advantaee of Lean Year. a*k Dan to marry her. They are married and for the drat tine Cherrv find* out what it mean* to lack monev. Her atruwle* with houe- --* DIXIE* movie critic of the New*. It friendlv with Cherrv. She meet* haridiiome MAX PEARSON, who al*o work* on the New*. Cherrv receive* a letter from her mother, encloaine a check for *BOO. She aeturna the check because pride wilt not let her keen it. A voune woman HVln* <n the game apartment buildinc attempts uiclde and is taken to a hospital. ' Cherrv seed* the elrl flower* ' anti while lown town me ,t* Pearson, who invite* her to luncheon. NOW OO ON WITH THE STORT CHATTER TWENTY-THREE (Continued) IT was the middle of the next morning and Cherry was frowning over the cookbook when there was a knock at the door. She arose and opened it. "Oh—"ood morning!” Cherry said, j •Won’t you come in?” Mrs. Moreau, from the floor above, I stood in the hall. ”1 haven’t time to stop,” she said,! ‘*but I thought you'd like to know i •muss Jamieson is going to get well. ! I’ve just been talking to the Janitor.! “He said the hospital found she had an aunt in Chicago and they qpt in touch with her. She’s coming —the aunt I mean—and if she has money enough to do that, it prob- j ably means she can take care of the girl and see her through.” , “I’m so glad!” Cherry said fer- ! vcntly. “And thanks for telling me. I’ve been thinking about her all morning.” “It’s bad business to be sick and alone in a city,” Mrs. Moreau said, shaking her head. “Well, I must be getting upstairs ” Bad business indeed! After she was alone again Cherry got out her purse and examined its contents. t There was $2.75 inside. On impulse she hurriedly changed to street clothes. Pinky, the kitten, was dozing on the window seat as Cherry softly closed the door behind her and went down the stairs. Sha boarded a downtown car and Tode to Twelfth street. Lawrence’s flower shop In the corner of the Wellington hotel was where Cherry had always bought flowers. She reached the shop and paused before the window display. Tall, long-stemmed roses and exotic lilies filled three huge vases that stood on black velvet. They were beautiful roses. They must cost a great deal Turning, the girl walked down the street. There were other florist ►aahops. She would find one less expensive than Lawrence’s. Cherry tramped for half an hour and finally was satisfied. She came to a small shop flaunting price-marks al lover its windows. “Roses 75 cents.” “Lilacs 50 cents a bunch.” “Iris 75 cents.” *' Cherry entered and paid 50 cents for a large bunch of lilacs. “We don’t deliver, Ma’am,” the clerk told her. “That’s extra. It’ll cost 21 cents to have them deliv- } ered.” Cherry paid the extra quarter. She wrote Miss Jamieson’s name on a white card and the address of the hospital. On a separate card to be enclosed with the flowers she wrote, “Best Wishes from a Friend.” , There was less than $2 in her purse (car fare had taken 10 cents) when she left the shop. “That means we’ll have eggs again for dinner,” Cherry told herseli. “Dan won’t mind when he knows why it happened. Wonder whether he’d like ’em fried or in an omlet?” She was considering this problem and had almost decided to undertake an omlet when she recognized a young man coming toward her. Cherry stooped. There was a stationery store ahead. In another moment she would have entered it but the young man called out her name. * “Well, Cherry!” he exclaimed. “This is certainly luck. Haven’t seen you for days!” “I—l’ve been shopping.” she told **iim. “It’s nice to see you again.” “'♦’ou don’t say that any too convincingly,” Max Pearson laughed, “but I’ve got a test. If you really mean it, come and have lunch with me.” CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR MAX PEARSON studied the menu. “Like scallops?” he asked. “All the sea food is very good here.” How handsome he looked today. Cherry meeting Pearson’s eyes.

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glanced down again quickly at the card before her. ‘Til have the shrimp patty,” she said, “and watercress salad. Coffee later.” They were In a restaurant new to Cherry. It was an attractive place, obviously more expensive than the establishments she and Dan had patronized. Cherry looked about and noticed there were more men than women diners. All of them were fashionably, prosperously dressed. The restaurant hd a subdued, quiet air that was a relief from the street. Pearson seemed thoroughly at home there. The waiter who took the order greeted him as an acquaintance of long standing. "Now, then,” Max said, when the question of food had been settled, “tell me what you’ve been doing?” “Just the usual things. Trying to remember to salt the potatoes and how to open a can without cutting j I myself. I’m still one of the world’s j i worst cooks!” “You are— * Pearson began, and i then checked himself. He did not. finish the sentence, but &- and, ! “Where’s that waiter? I want him to bring some matches.” He began talking of the office and Cherry was interested. The sense iof wariness—the feeling that she ! must be on her guard with Pearson —left her. There was no use tellj ing herself that she should not have | been there. Cherry knew very well that she ' was enjoying this luncheon. It was pleasant to sit across the table from such an attractive, entertaining young man and it was certainly a treat to eat food that she had not herself prepared. Yes, she was enjoying the luncheon. She told Max about the kitten and he seemed amused at her description. Somehow, Dan’s name entered the conversation. Cherry had a sudden inspiration. She leaned forward. “There’s semething I'd like to ask you,” she said. “I’ve wanted to talk to someone about it for a long time. I believe you’re the person.” “Fire away!” Pearson was holding a lighted match to. the tip of his cigaret. His eyes, intent on the flame, did not waver. “It’s about Dan.” the girl went on earnestly. “I want to know if you think he can write. I don’t mean just thingg for newspapers. I mean do you think he might be able to write short stories or a novel? “Dan says there isn’t any future for him in reporting. He wants to write for magazines—maybe books. Do you think he can do it? I don’t mean right away, but some time. Do you think he can do it if he works hard?” ana THE cigaret was glowing now. Pearson exlialed a cloud of smoke before he answered. “That’s a difficult question,” he told her. “Hard to say. Practically every newspaper man in the country —woman, too —is sure that he or she can turn out the great American novel. All they need is a little time. A chance to get. away from the grind and write. They keep talking about it for years, but somehow few of them ever get anything done. Oh, I’m not saying all this about Dan, understand ! I’m talking about the great majority. You see, writing is hard work. I know, because I’ve sold a few things myself. He mentioned a couple of essays that had appeared in a magazine of high literary standing. “They’d take more too,” he went on, "but I just can’t seem to get to work. Lazy, I guess.” “But about Dan ” Cherry persisted. “He’s clever,” Pearson went on. “Dan’s written some swell news stories. Has an original way of putting things. I don’t honestly know if he’d be any good at fiction, though. I didn’t know he’d ever tried it. “The only way to find out if he can make the grade is to try. He’ll have to be willing to work!” "Then,” said Cherry slowly, “that will have to be my part. To help him work.” “It’s discouraging business,” Pearcon nai-ied. "Even the most successful authors get lots of their manuscripts back. When you’re be-

ginning you have to expect rejections.” The girl nodded. “I suppose so,” she agreed. “I suppose so.” ■ There was quiet between them, interrupted by the appearance of the waiter. He placed ices before them and poured the coffee. "Look here,” said Pearson briskly when they were alone again, ‘Tve just had an idea. Didn’t rfan say the other evening that you like to drive a car?” Cherry smiled. “I love it!” “Then here’s my idea. That bus of mine stands in the garage more than half the time. I never use it during the day except orr Wednesdays. That's my day off from the office. “I’ll tell them at the garage they’re to let you have it whenever you want it.” “Oh, I couldn't !’ “Couldn't what? You could certainly drive it, and there isn't a | reason in the world why you shouldn’t. Dan’s one of my bestfriends, as you know. I’m sure he’d like to have you get out more.” “It’s awfully kind of you,” Qherry said, “but I really can’t.” “You mean you don’t want to?” Obviously he was hurt. “It isn't that. I mean—well, I don’t think I should.” “Oh, so you’re the sort of girl who thinks appearances are more important than anything else? Well, what’s wrong about you driving my car?” What, indeed? Somehow Cherry couldn’t answer the argument. Pearson had just given her a delicious lunch. She could not offend him. “I’ll do it,” she agreed. “It’s—certainly very kind of you.”

7TSTP? A~DAY~ BY BRUCE CATTQN FRED j. RINGEL, a German who lives in New York as correspondent for certain Berlin newspapers, decided recently that Europeans never had been given a really good understanding of America. First he decided to write a book about America to set things right. Then he figured the job was too much for him, so he called in some two-score American writers and had them doUhe job for him; and the result is “America as Americans See It,” edited by Mr. Ringel, published by Harcourt, Bruce & Cos. at $3.75 and offered by the Literary Guild as its June selection. It’s a book that can’t be summed up in a paragraph very well. Parts of it are very good, indeed; other parts are utterly useless. If its aim was to give foreigners a clear, comprehensive view of American life, it seems to me that it has failed, for any European sitting down to read it would arise more confused than ever. But then, maybe it is impossible for any one to look at the whole American panorama without getting confused. Among the best chapters in the book, it seems to mg, are those by R. L. Duffus on the great open spaces; by Elmer Davis on the American at leisure; by John Tunis on American sports; by R. E. Sherwood on Hollywood; by Stuart. Chase on economics, and by Silas Bent on advertising. Those that seem to me to fall flat include articles by Graham McNamee on radio, by John Held Jr. on college life and by an anonymous contributor on underworld gangs. You’ll find enough good stuff in the book to make it worth your while, and there are a nundred or more illustrations that help. But heaven pity the European who reads it all and then thinks he understands America.

STICKERS HSRMANSfOA f f Properly rearranged, the letters above will spell a five-letter boy’s name and a five-letter girl’s name. Can you discover the two names? Yesterday’s Answer SeCeDe P BaNaNa i __ i t The large fetters are the consonants * that were missing from the two words ,f shown above. * N 2\

TARZAN AND THE ANT MEN

As Tarzan watched the Ant Men, their leader bade the others rise and then addressed them for a moment. Then he turned toward the ape-man and directed his remarks to him, none of which, of course, Tar2an could understand. By his manner, however, the ape-man guessed that the other was thanking him and possibly, too, asking his further intentions toward them. So, relying, Tarzan endeavored to assure them that he desired their friendship. To emphasize his peaceful intentions he cast hk weapons aside.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

HE told her the name of the ga- ] rage and where it was located. “One of the boys will drive the car out for you,” he assured her. “They’re darned obliging. That’s the reason I keep it there. How about using it this afternoon?” She told him she could not. She had left the apartment in a hurry and there were a dozen things to be done. Suddenly she thought of the kitten. “Poor little Pinky,” she exclaimed. “He’ll be starved. Oh, 111 have to go right away!” Pearson looked at his watch.

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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“Time for me to be getting back, to~,” he agreed. They walked down the street a block together. Cherry thanked him for the luncheon and said goodby. She was smiling as she boarded the street car. “I was wrong about Max Pearson,” she told herself. “He only wants to be friendly and helpful. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful to have a car to drive again!” True to prediction, Pinky was feeling neglected when Cherry arrived home. He came running toward her on his slightly unstable

Then he took a step toward them, his arms thrown slightly outward, his open palms in their direction. The young man seemed to understand us friendly overtures, for he, too, advanced, offering his hand to Tarzan. The ape-man knew that the other meant that he should kiss it. This he did not do, preferring to assume a role of equality with the highest. Instead, he kneeled upon one knee to more easily reach the proferred hand of the pygmy. Pressing the tiny fingers gently, Tarzan of the Apes bowed gravely.

legs, meowing as loudly as his little lungs would allow. Cherry picked him up, filled a saucer with milk and watched the kitten’s clumsy efforts to drink the milk and at the same time wade in it. She told Dan that evening about lunching with Pearson and about his offer to loan her the roadster. “Darned nice of him!” Dan tola her. “Didn’t i say Max is a prince?” “But do you really think I should, Dan?” “Why not? Max would be hurt if you refused. Os course, it’s all right.”

—By Ahern

The other seemed satisfied and returned the salute with equal dignity. Then he attempted to convey to the ape-man that he and his party were about to ride off across the plain, inviting him to accompany them. Rather curious to see more of these little people, Tarzan decided to accept the invitation. Before they set out, however, the Ant Men dispersed to bury the dead, gather up their wounded and dispatch any of the antelopes too severely injured to travel. Then with military precision the party set off. *

Cherry was silent for a minute. Then she said, “He told me something else today. Max thinks you can write. I mean short stories—or a novel, maybe.” “Did Max say that?” Cherry nodded eagerly. “I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon and I’m going to help by having everything out of the way so you can get to work as soon as dinner is finished. I won't let any one interrupt. You can begin tonight—” Phillips protested with a groan. “Hey, wait a minute—wait a minute! I don't want to sit down be-

OUT OUR WAY

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! fore a typewriter tonight. I'm tired! Even if I did, I couldn’t writ* anything worth while. Honestly, Cherry, I can’t do it tonight! I tell you I’m all in." “But, Dan, if you’re ever going to write there has to be a beginning.” “Say—l didn’t know you were such a slave driver! What kind of a frameup is this, anyhow?" Cherry was disappointed. “It's only that I wanted to help,” she told him. (To Be Continued)

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

As the* first body of troops galloped away, ten warriors wheeled from the left flank and, following one of their officers, returned to Tarzan. By signs the officer conveyed to Tarzan the intelligence that he was to follow this party which would guide him to their destination. Already the main body was far away across the plain, their lithe mounts clearing as many as five or six feet in a single bound. Even the swift ape-man could not have kept pice with them. Tarzan fell into a dog trot such as he rculd keep up for hours at a time without res?.

PAGE 9

—By Williams

; —By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin