Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 36, Indianapolis, Marion County, 22 June 1932 — Page 13

JUNE 22, 1022

LEAP YEAR BRIDE II

BEGIN HERE TODAY CHERRY DIXON, orettv 19-vear-old daueht#r of wealthy osrent*. fall* In love sith DAN PHILLrPS newsosoer reBOTter She ciuarrels with her father • bout Dan. leave* home and, taking advantage of Lean Year, ask* Dan to marrv her They are married and for the first time Cherry And* out what It means to lark monev. Her struggle* with housework are discouraging DIXIE SHANNON, movie critic of the New*, ta friendiv with Cherrv. She meets, handsome MAX PEARSON, who also works on the News. Cherrv receives a letter from her mother enclosing a check for t.YX). She return* (he check because oride will i not let hr keen it. A voting woman living in the same anartment building : attempt* suicide and it taken to a hoi- i Bital. Cherrv sends the girls some flower*, and while down town meets Pearson, who take* her to luncheon. Dan undertakes to write a short story, becomes discouraged and leaves I- unfinished. Two dsvs later Cherrv is sum- \ moned to see a csller. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 'Continued) ' Then you'll have to do your help- 1 lng some other time!” mam HE went out a little later, saying he had “promised to call one of the boys.” It was 10 o'clock before he returned. The next evening Dixie dropped in and they played three-handed bridge. The night fol- j lowing, Dan had an evening assign- j ment. It began to look to Cherry as j though her husband’s literary career was a long way distant. Then there came a Sunday—the second 1 In June—when the drizzling rain that, had begun in the morning set- | tied to a continuous downpour. Dan was home for the day. He [ had changed his working hours and j now spent Sundays with Cherry, j Clad in an old bathrobe, he sat at j thp typewriter and began to bang the keys. For almost three hours he worked j steadily. Then, with a loud ex- ! clamation, he slumped back in his i chair. “What’s the use?’’ Dan demanded. “I can’t write anything. This stuff Is terrible. It's —oh, it’s a mess!'’ Cherry crossed the room. “Can I read it?" she asked. “If you want to. 1 I don’t care what you do with it, so long as I don't have to see it again!” He jumped up. strode to the dressing room and five minutes later was busy shaving. Cherry read the manuscript. It was little more than a character rtkotch, a conversation between a taxi driver and a lunch counter attendant in a cheap, open-all-night place. Gus, the driver, had opinions on many subjects and seemed to be something of a hero to his friend. Their conversation was terse, colloquial, and much of it Cherry could not understand. There were vague allusions to underworld activities. She read on. Pearson was right about it. Dan did have an original way of putting things. She came to the fourth page and there the narrative broke off in the middle of a sentence. “But, Dan!” Cherry exclaimed, “this is interesting! Why didn't you finish it? I want to know the rest!” Phillips appeared in the doorway, made a gesture of disdain. “Oh, I’m sick of the thing. Tear it up!” Cherry folded the sheets hurriedly and put'them away. There was no more writing that day or the next. Late Wednesday afternoon Cherry was summoned downstairs. She cried out at sight of the man who was waiting in the hallway. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE HE was a young man wearing a chauffeur’s uniform. Cherry caught sight of him before she had reached the foot of the stairs and rushed forward. •Martin! Is anything wrong? The young man hesitated. “Dr. Knowles sent me, Miss Cherry,” he said. “He said I should bring you home. It's your mother—she’s been sick all week and today ” "Mother! You mean—oh. Martin, you don’t mean—you don’t mean it’s serious?” “All I know is you’re to come at once,” the chauffeur told her gravely. “The doctor's been there since morning. He said ” The last words were lost as Cherry went flying up the stairway. She called over her shoulder, “Just a minute! I’ll be right back!” It was scarcely longer than that until she was stepping into the big Dunbar limousine. Martin closed the door after her t and took the wheel. They spun around a corner and the car's speed Increased. Martin, the perfect chauffeur, was driving

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more recklessly than Cherry ever had seen him. Still It was not fast enough. “Can't we go faster?” Cherry urged. “Can’t we hurry?” There was no answer. The big car certainly was traveling above the speed limit. Cherry cowered in one corner of the rear seat. Her face ! was pale, her eyes dark with fright | and anxiety. “It cant be!” she told herself over and over again. “It cant be mother's going to die! God wouldn't do a thing like that. Oh, why does it take so long? Why can't we I hurry?” Her two hands were clenched tightly together. The words she-had been mumbling formed themselves into a sort of prayer. Motherhurry—must get well—save her—save her! They echoed through the girl’s brain. ‘Mother—hurry—must get well ’’ m a m car whirled into another A street. They were halfway there now. A truck, heavily loaded, was coming toward them. It swerved suddenly to avoid another vehicle and Martin barely kept the fenders of the limousine from brushing it. Cherry, in her corner, did not even notice what had happened. She was telling herself that things like ths could not happen. Only two weeks before—that was all It had been since her mother’s letter had come. The one with the check. There was something in that letter about not feeling well. Vaguely, Cherry remembered the words, “The last month has been a strain. Day and night I worry about you.” Her mother had written. “She’s worried over me!” the girl thought bitterly. “It’s because of what I’ve done that she’s ill. If she dies it will be my fault—!” No! She could not go on thinking such things. She did not dare to! Cherry pressed both hands to her temples. She closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that in just a little while now she would see her mother and know that everything was going to be all right. Her mother never had been seriously ill before. Os course she would recover! , They had reached Sherwood boulevard now. There was less traffic and the limousine was going faster. Familiar houses, buildings Cherry had passed hundreds and hundreds of times, flashed past. * There was the little drug store. There the Marshalls’ brick house. Another minute and they had turned into the drive before Briartop. Cherry had one hand on the door as the chauffeur halted the car. Sip was outside and half way to the door before Martin had climbed from his seat. The door opened and Cherry almost plunged into the arms of a woman in cap and apron. “Martha!” Cherry exclaimed. “How is she?” “Thank the good Lord you’ve come, Miss Cherry,” the servant answered devoutly. “I said all along they should send for you—” “But how is she?” the girl begged. Martha brushed her eyes with her handkerchief. She shook her head. “The doctor’s upstairs,” she said. “He won't let any of us in the room with her. You’ll have to ask Dr. Knowles." She put the handkerchief to her eyes agAin. Cherry ran swiftly up the stairs. A nurse in a white uniform was coming out of Mrs. Dixon's room. “I’m Cherry.” the girl said. "I’ve come to see Mother ” The nurse shook her head negatively. “I'm sorry,” she said; “the doctor is with Mrs. Dixon. He's given instructions that no one is to be admitted.” “But Dr. Knowles sent for me!” The nurse made a signal indicating quiet. “Yes, I know.” she said in a hushed voice. “I’ll tell him you’re here. A little later perhaps you can see your mother. The slightest excitement just now would be dangerous. You’ll have to excuse me ” The nurse continued her way down the hall. Cherry, utterly desolate, stood before the windpw. It was as horrible as she had thought. Her mother was going to die! Otherwise why should they keep every one away?

THE girl shut her eyes in agony. Her hands, twisted Into fists, pounded together. “Oh, God!” the girl prayed desperately, “make her get well! Don't let her die, dear God!” She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. Sarah O'Fallon was standing beside her. “There, darlin’, ” Sarah whispered gently, “don’t take it so hard!” The girl buried her face In Sarah's apron. Suddenly the tears, long pent up, streamed down her face. Cherry wept quietly, her shoulders shaking with the deep sobs. She never had faced death before. She scarcely had thought about it. Now in the face of this terrible experience, she was realizing how deep had been her love for her mother. Happy times in her childhood—all the joy that had come into that big house her mother had brought. “I —can’t bear it—Sarah!” she cried brokenly. "I—can’t bear it!” The older woman murmured reassuringly. Cherry’s weeping continued, gradually becoming quieter. They heard a door open and close. Cherry looked up and saw Dr. Knowles coming toward them. She arose. The doctor nodded. He said, “Good afternoon, Cherry. Glad you’re here. Shall we go where we can talk?” ' He motioned toward Cherry's own bedroom farther down the hall. The. girl followed, dabbing at her eyes to dry them and clinging to Sarah. “Why won’t any one tell me how she is, doctor?” she begged. “Why won't you let me see my mother?” “Now, now!” Dr. Knowles began. “Don’t be hysterical. You’re letting your feelings run away with you.” “But, doctor—?” “Your mother is very ill, Cherry,”

~3HSCDK A DAT BY BRUCE CATTQN IF you have a hammock in the shade, or a comfortable porch swing with a table for cooling beverages beside it, you might as well fortify yourself for the hot weather by laying in a few detective stories. Somehow, they seem to go with hammocks and porch swings. One that you might like is “A j Dagger in the Dark,” by Walter F. j Eberhardt (Morrow: $2). Here we | have a murder, assorted thefts, and an abduction or two, all linked up with a New York underworld gang and all solved by a private detective; and the odd part about it is that the whole business is far more realistic than thrillers of this kind usually are. The detective is hard-bofled, profane and rather unscrupulous and the gangsters are true to life. The action is fast, the puzzle is properly puzzling, and all in all it’s a very passable mystery yarn. Then, there’s “Death Lights a Candle,” by Phoebe Atwood Taylor (Bobbs-Merrill: $2). There’s a winter house party on Cape Cod, and the house gets snowbound, and the host is poisoned, and people begin finding arsenic all over the place, and homespun Asey Mayo finally turns up the murderer. This one is not nearly as good as the same author’s earlier mystery, but it might fill in a long summer afternoon for you acceptably. Strictly woozy is “The House of the Opal,” by Jackson Gregory (Scribners: $2). There’s an old house in the mountains, full of secret passages; there are disappearing corpses and wandering madmen and one of the fruitiest amateur detectives you ever read about. It never comes close to making sense, but if you like plenty of synthetic thrills this one might provide ’em.

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Yesterday's Answer

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TARZAN AND THE ANT MEN

While Tarzan traveled along with the Ant Men his thoughts reverted to the Alalus youth who was hunting alone in the forest behind them. But he soon put the creature from his mind, realizing it was better equipped now to defend itself than any of its kind. When he made hi* visit to the pygmies’ country Tarzan believed he could doubtless return and find the Alalus, if he so desired. So he jogged along, w-hile his guides, trotting their graceful mounts, kept just of him.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

the doctor went on. “It's best to face the facts. For years she's gone on believing she was In good health, while all the time this condition was coming on. It's her heart." He stopped at the stricken look on the girl's face. “We're not sure how serious this may be.” he went on slowly. “A little while ago she dropped off to sleep. That’s why I gave orders she wasn’t to be disturbed. “It's the first sleep she's had in forty-eight Sours. Perhaps it will save her. I sent for you, Cherry, because—well, I thought you'd want to be here."

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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The plain was more rolling than it appeared from the verge of the forest, with here and there a clump of trees. Grass was plentiful and there were occasional bands of the larger species of antelope grazing at intervals. At sight of the approaching riders and the comparatively giant figure of Tarzan they broke and ran. Once they passed a rhinoceros, the party making only a slight detour td avoid it. Later, the leader suddenly halted his detachmeA. giving a sharp order to his men that v called them to spread and surround a thicket.

“Os course! Oh, doctor, surely’ you can do something! You mustn’t—you mustn't let anything happen ” “We're doing evrything possible ” he assured her. “I've had two specialists here for consultation. She has splendid nurses. “You may be sure that everything in our power will be done to bring her to a speedy recovery.” “Doctor,” Cherry faced him directly “you’re not just—saying these things to make me feel better? You really believe she has a chance. Dr. Knowles put a hand on the

girl's arm. "I told you the condi- ! tion is serious,” he repeated. “I’ve thought—well if she rallies as I hope she will after this rest. I thought your being here might do a great deal. She’s missed you these last weeks. Cherry.” The girl had turned away. "I know." she said miserably. “I know!” “I’m leaving now,” Dr. Knowles announced, “but I’ll be back within an hour. If there's the slightest change, the nurse knows where to reach me. “The best thing for you to do Is

—By Ahern

Then the leader, seizing his lance, advanced slowly again toward the clump of bushes. Tarzan halted too and watched the proceedings. The wind was blowing from him' in the direction of the thicket so that he could not determine what manner of creature had attracted the officer’s attention. Presently when the tiny warriors had encircled the thicket and ' those upon the other side had ridden into it, their spears couched ready, he heard an ugly sr.arl issuing from the center of the bushes. An instant later aa African wild cat sprang into view. * \

to try to quiet yourself. I’ll let you see your mother just as soon as it’s wise.” m m m HE was gone. Sarah, who had been listening all the while, came across the room. “Maybe if you’d lie down, honey.” she said softly, “you’d feel better. You’d best do like the doctor says and try to just be quiet.” Cherry shook her head. "I couldn’t, Sarah. But don’t bother about me. I’ll be all right.” The older woman put her arms around the girl. “We’ve got to pray!” she said fervently. “It’s

OUT OUR WAY

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only the Lord who can help ua now. We’ve got to pray he’ll spare your mother, darling.” Cherry's face seemed to have taken on a mask-like quality. ’Yes,” she said as though she had not understood the words, "pray. That's it.” Her voice had become a monotone. “That's what we have to do —pray.” She sank to the luxurious satin cushions of the chaise longue. Sarah regarded her uncertainly for a moment and then turned and left the room. (To Be Continued)

—By, Edgar Rice Burroughs

It leaped directly at the officer waiting with ready spear to receive it. The weight and momentum of the beast all but unseated the rider, the point of whose spear had met the .cat full in the chest. There were a few spasmodic struggles before the cat expired, during which, had the spear broken, the man would have beei\ badly mangled, perhaps killed, for the cat was relatively as formidable a beast as is a lion to the ordinary man. The instant that it -expired four warriors leaped forward and with their sharp knives removed the head and skin in pm incredibly short time.

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin