Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 41, Indianapolis, Marion County, 28 June 1932 — Page 13

JUNE 28, 1032

LEAP YEAR BRIDE Bfefc II

BEGIN HERE TODAY CHERRY DIXON. pretty 19-year-old daughter of wealthy parents, falls In love with DAN PHILLIPS, newspaper reporter. She quarrels with her father about Dan, leaves home and, taking advantage of Leap Year, asks Dan to marly her. They are married and for tha first time Cherry finds what it means to lark monev Her struggles with housework are discouraging, DIXIE SHANNON, movie critic of the Near, is friendly with Cherrv. She meet* handsome MAX PEARSON who alto works on the News. Cherry receive* a letter from -her mother inclosing a checs lor *3OO. She returns the check because pride will not let her keep it. Dan. worried about bills, undertakes to write a short story, h>: i becomes discouraged and leaves it unfinished. Two days later Cherry learns her mother is critically HI. Cherry goes home and at her mother’* bedside the Isthcr and daughter are reconciled. MRU. DIXON passes the crisis of her Illness and after several days Cherry return* to the apartment. Her father tells her the doctor has ordered Mrs. Duon to spend several months at the He asks Cherrv to accompany her mother, crurrv refuses and Dixon decides to go himself. Tne night before they are to depart, he call* on Cherry and Dan. NOW (.0 ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (Continued) Bhe bought the saucepans and moved on to the china counters. matt IT was forty-five minutes later wh>n Cherry finally emerged from the store. Both of her arms were filled with bundles. She was conscious that she must be very careful of the dishes. Her nose and cheeks were glistening, her hat pushed awry. The dress that had been fresh when she left home was rumpled and soiled now. She was tempted to stop in a drug stpre for a soda, but the bundles dissuaded her. If I put them down,” she told herself, ’Til never be able to manage. them again.” She was on her way to the car stop when a clear, high-pitched voice interrupted her. Cherry turned. "Why, Gretchen, hello!” ‘ Cherry Dixon! Oh, excuse me— I keep forgetting you're married. Fhillips, isn't it? What on earth have you ben doing? My dear, I didn't know you! All those packages—!” Cherry's cheeks had been hot before. Now they were flaming. ‘'Shopping," she said. "Some things I wanted in a hurry and couldn’t wait to have delivered. But what are you doing downtown on a day like this?” Gietchen Alden frowned. She was dressed in silk, the color of creme <ie menthe. Her hat and sandals match exactly. Not a single strand of her lovely golden hair was out of place. "Frightful, isn't it?” she asked. “I'm simply melted. But you see, we’re leaving for Lake Louise and I had to have some fittings. I'm getting three of the sweetest frocks —” She described them fluently. Cherry’s arms were becoming cramped with her bundles, but there was nothing to do but listen. "Cherry, my dear,” the other girl wound up, ‘ mother and I are giving a little musicale Sunday evening. Awfully informal, you know. That good-looking violinist, Carl Van Dyke, Is going to play. Won't you come and bring your husband? I'm dying to meet him!” "I’ll see,” Cherry agreed. “I'm not sure what our plans are. Well, I must be on my way.’ "Can t I give you a lilt?” Gretcheu urged. “I'm meeting mother with the car at 5 ” Cherry shook her head. “No, thanks,” she said. “I'll call you later about Sunday." As she rode home (luckily having secured a scat on the street car), Cherry entertained herself with a vision of Dan at one of Gretchen Aldens musicales. * She gave him an amusing version of her afternoon's adventures over (he dinner table. Afterward, Dan helped wash and put away the dishes. They were finishing the last of them when there was a knock at the door. “I’ll answer,” Cherry said. She crossed* the. room and opened the door. A moment later she cried, “Why, father !” CHAPTER THIRTY DIXON looked ill at ease. “Good evening,” he said. "I didn't ring because I couldn’t find a bell downstairs and the door was open. I hope you don’t mind—” “Os course, not,” Cherry told him, “only you did surprise me! Come in. won't you?” He entered the room. There was

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i a moment's awkward pause and then Dan stepped forward. “How do you do, Mr. Dixon,” he said. “How do you do.” The constraint between the two men was evident. Cherry hastened to relieve it. “Heres a chair, father,” she said, directing him to the most comfortable one. It stood near the open window and what* breeze there was reached it. “It's been a hot day, hasn t it?” she went on. “Lucky you and mother are getting off so soon.” “That’s just what I’ve come to talk about,” Dixon announced. “But you're going, aren't you? You don't mean anything's happened to change your plans?” Her father shook his head. “No, nothings happened. But I came to ask once again If you wouldn’t reconsider and come with us.” Cherry drew herself up straight in her chair. “I can’t.” she said. “I’m sorry, but—l can’t.” Dan was sitting in the shadows at the opposite side of the room. Now he leaned forward, “You didn't tell me anything, about this Cherry,” he said. “I didn’t know you were thinking of going anywhere.” The girl’s checks flamed. “I—l suppose I forgot to mention it,” she said. “Father asked me to go with I mother on this trip, but I told him it would be impossible. And now that he’s decided to go himself, I'm sure that will be much better.” She turned toward Dixon. “You know you really do need the rest, father.” “You’re sure you won't change your mind?” Cherry smiled. “Quite sure,” she said. "What do you think of our j home here? Isn’t it rather attrac- j tive?” The one-room apartment was not i at its best. The living room was! warm and there were still signs j that it recently had served as a' dining room. Dan's hat and coat and a pile of newspapers cluttered the davenport. A faint odor suggested that the neighbors had been cooking cabbage. Dixon managed a reply that was satisfactory and Cherry explained how they had found the apartment and subleased it. a a a THERE was little more talk and then Dixon arose to go. For a moment he hesitated, then said abruptly to Dan, “I'm afraid I was rather hasty the last time we met. Said things I shouldn't have.” “That’s all right, Mr. Dixon. 1 guess I understand how you felt.” The older man put out his hand. “I was wrong,” he said slowly, “but I hope it’s not too late to make up for it. You and Cherry must both come out to see us when we’re back from this trip.” “Thanks. We’ll be glad to." A few moments more and Dixon was gone. Cherry whirled around as the door closed after him. • “You see, Dan!” she exclaimed happily, “father isn’t a bit like you thought he was. Oh, I'm so glad he came, even if the place is a sight. Aren't you glad, tco?” “Why—yes, I guess so.” “You guess so? Don’t you know’?” “Yes, of course. Sure, I'm glad. But why didn’t you tell me about this trip, Chery?” “I did tell you about it.” “I mean about your father asking you to go with them? Howl'd it happen you didn't say anything about that?” “Oh, I guess it just didn’t seem very important. I said I couldn’t, and that seemed to be all there was to it.” Dan crossed the room and looked out on the night. For several moments he w’as silent. Then he said, “It isn’t too late to change your mind about it, is it?” “Why, Dan—!” His back was still toward her. His voice went on, calmly and steadily. “I think you’re making a mistake, Cherry. I think it would be better if you’d take the trip.” “You mean you want me to go?” “Yes. Yes I do.” Cherry was beside him. “You want me to go?” she repeated in amazement. “Why, Dan, w’hat’s come over you? I don't understand —!” He turned and faced her. ‘‘There’s nothing to understand,” he said. "Why should you spend the rest of the summer in a hot, dumpy little place like this when you could be at the seashore?

“Why should you be cooking and washing dishes w’hen you could be living in an expensive hotel with everything in the world to make you comfortable? “I <now’ I can’t give you the sort of things you've been accustomed to, but that’s no reason you have to give them up. You can call up your father in the morning and tell him you've changed your mind.” The flush was gone from Cherry's cheeks. “I told father I couldn't go because I didn't want to.” she said quietly. “I con’t want to gd now.” “You—really mean that?” “Os course I mean it.” a a a ■pvAN dropped to the window seat. He leaned forward, resting both arms on his knees. “Cherry,” he said, “I've been a sap! I thought I was going to get half a dozen raises and seli a lot of stories in no time. “I thought we’d be moving into a better apartment, buy a car—oh, I had all sorts of plans; It’s decent of you to be a sport about all this, but we might as well face it. I’m a dub and that’s all I’ll ever be!” "But that’s not true, Dan! Please don’t let yourself be discouraged. There’s lots of time ahead. You haven’t any reason to feel this way—” “Haven’t I? Look!" He went to the davenport, picked up his coat and drew’ an envelope from a pocket. Without another word he handed the envelope to Cherry. She drew out the bulky, folded pages. As she did so a small, rectangular bit of paper fell into her lap. She picked it up and read; “We are sorry that we are unable to make use of the inclosed

TTTm? BY BRUCE CATTON

THE American small town, evidently, is not the only place that gives the creative artist a pain in the neck. The English small town seems to be quite as bad. That, at any rate, is what I gather from reading “Undertow,” by A. Hamilton Gibbs. This is a novel about a young man who taught in a preparatory school in an English village. In his spare moments he was a painter; but school and town combined to stifle his artistic impulses, and the only encouragement he got was from the proprietor of the second-hand book store, who once in a while managed to sell one of his sketches for a few shillings. n Presently the book store man was joined by his niece, a pretty but painfully proper young womand with whom the budding artist immediately fell in love. Everything went along nicely until the young man went to France to spend the two months before his wedding making sketches. There, of course, it happened. He met a French girl who was anything but painfully proper; and by the time his two months were up he entirely had forgotten his English sweetheart, and the wedding had to be called off. and he married the French girl instead— And then, with a good deal of tenderness and insight, Mr. Gibbs tells you how the man uprooted himself, settled in France and devoted himself to his painting. I shan’t spoil it for you by reciting how the story ends, instead I advise you to read it for yourself—the book is worth your trouble. “Undertow” is published by Little, Brown & Cos., and costs $2.50.

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Yesterday's Answer

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TARZAN AND THE ANT MEN

- V/y, 1

The Ant Men were, little people, but they had big names. Their king was called Adendrohakis. He was particularly well inclined toward the ape-man because of the fact that It had been the king's son Komodoflorencal, whom Tarzan had rescued from the clutches of the huge Alai us woman. Everything was done to make the giant’s stay among them a pleasant one. A hundred slaves brought his food to him where he had taken up his abode beneath a, huge tree growing in lonely majesty Just outside the city.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

manuscript. Thank you for submitting it.” The name printed on the slip was that of a famous magazine. Cherry unfolded the pages. It was Dan’s story about Gus, the taxicab driver, the story he had started on the 1 rainy Sunday so long ago. “I finished it,” he told her, “while your mother was sick and you were staying with her. I didn't mean to say anything about it unless they took it. Wanted to surprise you! “I had another one ready to send if they took this. Well, that can go into the wastebasket!” He reached for the manuscript,

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

*X, / m • • I* /m# v 91

but Cherry drew back. “Please!” she begged. “Let me keep it, Dan. 1 want to read it. Oh, I’m sorry that old editor didn't like it. but you mustn't be discouraged! Maybe the next one will be different ” But Dan was not to be shaken from his gloomy mooc. Later, when Cherry had finished reading the manuscript and w’as glowing enthusiastic about it, he was only halfconvinced. He got the second story, an account of two urchins called before juvenile court, from the desk drawer and she read that. “They’re good!” Cherry insisted

When he walked among the group of domehouses a troop of cavalry galloped ahead to clear a path for him. lest he trod upon some of the people. But Tarzan was always careful of his hosts, so that no harm ever befell one of them because of him. As he mastered the language he learned many things concerning these remarkable people. Every day, Prince Komodoflorensal took pains to assist in the instruction of his colossal guest, and it was from him that the ape-man learned most.

fervently. “I don’t care what that editor or any one else thinks. These stories are interesting!” Dan laughed at her enthusiasm, was pleased more than he would admit. “I like the name of this second one, too,” she told him. "Kempy s Crime,’ How did you happen to think of that?’ He had called the other story simply, “Night Life.” “Oh, I don’t know. Saw some kids in court one day. About half of it’s true and the rest I imagined to suit myself.” “Listen, Dan,” Cherry said seri-

—By Ahern

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As Tarzan strolled about the city his eyes were never idle. Especially interesting to him Was the method used in building the dome-houses. These towered high above even the 'great Tarzan. Each scone, weighing some fifty pounds, was carried slung by a rope hammock from the shoulders of two slaves. But thousands of slaves made the work progress rapidly. Circular at the base, the dome-houses were two hundred-Teet in diameter and had four entrances, one at each point of the compass.

ously, “no matter what any one else thinks, I know you're going to write great stories some day!” “And in the meantime well go to the poorhouse." “We certainly will not: Don't you understand, dear, that I'd rather be here with you living just as we are than in the finest hotel in the world with all the money there is if you weren’t there?” He told her she was a very foolish girl and neither of them believed it.

OUT OUR WAY

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Vm O 1932 V MtA SIHWICt. IWC g y

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

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The many corridors were generally some three feet aide, which was twelve feet by an Antman’s standard. In the exact center of the building, a circular opening was left. This measured ten feet across from ground floor to roof. Cauldrons filled with crude asphaltum were‘brought by hundreds. This liquid was used in place of motar and plaster, sealing together tbs walls and wooden ceiling beams of the mjfay floors in the miniature skyscraper.

PAGE 13

THE house at Briartop had bern closed for an indefinite period. Ihe cook and her husband were the only ones to remain there. Martha and Sarah were both to visit relatives, departing as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Martin had gone. Martin, the chauffeur, was to take the car to the eastern resort and remain there. Cherry rode with her parents to the station. They were making the trip by rail because Mrs. Dixon considered it more comfortable. (To Be Continued.)

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin