Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 207, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 January 1933 — Page 11

JAN. 7, 1033

SPOTDSHEf®

Bf.filN 111 RF TODAY BHril.A SHAYNE. l hots narfnts *• r all-known vaudeville actors U in New York lookine to r ork. Shelia it a dancer , . Rh has snent aimost. her entire life on the singe first traveling with her parents now dead, and later In vaudeville nd road shows Sheila lives at MA I/JWEU. S theatrical rooming house MYRT a aude file tterformer also out of work also lives there Over the breakfsv tahle one morning Sheila con- \ fries tn Mvrt that her tra* ambition 1* to marrv and have a home like those ahe has seen in small town* in which the ha' nlaved Ma Lowell Interrupts them to inTiminee that a telephone rail ha* tom* for Sheila It is an offer for her to fill In for DAISY OLEASON another dancer, who has snrain'd her ankie Sheila agrees and sets off for JOE PARIS office to rehearse At snout the same time two wealthy sour,- men TREVOR LANE and DICK RTANIEY. are discussing plans for the parlv Lane Is to give that night. Thev decided to go to Paris office to hire some entertainers , The- arri-e while 811.1- BRADY dance Instructor is teaching Sheila the new St®D]pv h*r <l<%nrjnj rhu Impressed with her skill and beauty NOW OO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FOUR < Continued) Dick held his breath, watching Trevor's face. Was he going to say to Joe, “No, thank you. I guess the others will be all right”? Just because he never had heard of Shelia Shayne? “Shayne,” Joe continued, “she’s a coiner. You can’t go wrong.” Perhaps Trevor caught the expression on Dick’s face. Trevor was skillful at mind reading. “Shayne? Sheila Shayne?” he Raid. “Never heard of her, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe we Will some day. Let’s talk to her.” CHAPTER FIVE TOE PARIS moved toward the practice rooms, followed by the other two men. "Miss Shayne Is booked at Jackson Heights tonight.,” he said. Without preamble, Joe opened the door. This time there was no halting of step or cessation of the music. It was Joe, the great Paris, and welcome indeed! Joe's presence in a practice room always meant something. Sheila continued with the difficult routine. She was dancing beautifully. Her eyes met Dick Stanley’s as, without stopping, she glided swiftly down the room. She smiled guardedly, a trifle mischievously. So he was a friend of Joe’s! Maybe he had brought Joe back. Maybe he was a producer! She decided against this almost immediately, topping energetically, skimming like a bird across the room, breaking into kicks, tapping again. It wasn’t that the newcomer was too young to be a producer! They could be as young as they pleased, provided they had money. This young man was too interested in the things about him. He didn't look bored. And a producer has to learn very early to look bored and unimpressed if he doesn’t want to be besieged by would-be hangers-on at every turn. Sheila didn’t think the other man was a producer, either. Had he been filling the cast of a show he would have watched her for a few minutes and then disappeared. Instead, he was talking to Joe and beckoning to Bill Brady. It was clea*- however, that Sheila was the subject of the conversation. Tapping, whirling, twirling like a flower in a brisk wind, she smiled gently, eyes on the ceiling, and danced on. “This girl's a real dancer,” Bill began affably. And again Sheila smiled. Not five minutes before, when she muffed a turn, Bill had called her hopeless. Five minutes more and he would make her the world’s leading ilanseuse. That was show business for you. Timmy reached the end of the theme and began again, but Bill cut in briskly. ’That’s all, Tim. You, shayne—come here!” nan SHE was going to meet Joe Paris! He had noticed her! Equally marvelous, she was going to meet this boy w'ho had been watching her. She must look a sight now, her hair every which way, her face beaming. With a crumpled little handkerchief, sheila attempted to repair the ravages of the last two hours. What a moment to come face to face with any young man! - “Well, if he liked me this way, he'll like me dressed up. That's one comfort,” she thought despairingly. Oddly it did not occur to her to wonder if Joe Paris liked her—Joe, whose approbation could mean instant recognition. Bill was beaming at her as though she were one of his own prize pupils and drew her into the rircle. “Miss Shayne, Joe. Miss Shayne, Mr. Lane, and—er, your friend there —I didn't catch the name? Oh, yes,- Stanley! Mr. Stanley, Sheila.” Bill’s voice was important. His eyes were on Joe Paris’ face. "Shayne,” repeated Joe meditatively, acknowledging the girl's bow with a curt nod. “Shayne. You’re Johnny Desmond's daughter, aren't you? How come you changed your name?” "I—l wanted to make good on tny own. Mr. Paris.” Her voice w r as trembling. “I didn't want managers to hire me or agents to book me on tny parents’ account. “You see, if I get anywhere I want It to be because I am a dancer, not because my mother and father were.” The big man nodded approvingly. “Still that doesn't keep you from inheriting Johnny's spunk," he said reflectively. "And you can dance all right. You're good! ’ "Good! You can dance all right.” Such words as those from Joe Paris! If Joe troubled to praise a routine it meant something. Always considerate, always helpful to an actor In trouble or a down-and-outer, Joe never scattered undue praise. ■ The kindest thing," he would repeat firmly *and frequently,- “the kindest thing you can do for some of them is to send them back to the five-and-dime stores. But if they! are good, tell them so!” nun BILL glowed at the tribute. “Mr. Lane here.” he said, indicat-

ing that gentleman, “is looking for talent.” Sheila's eyes widened expectantly. “ —F’or a party he's giving this evening.” The girl's face fell. “We thought perhaps you'd dance for him,” Joe Paris added. “Just a number or two. I know you're booked with Roscoe Moody in Gleason’s place—” Sheila showed her surprise. So Joe Paris knew that! That he had known her father did not seem so unusual as did this exicting bit 01 news. “We are playing Jackson Heights,” Sheila murmured in confusion. “I’ve been resting lately, I'm—well, pretty stiff.” Joe grinned broadly. If he thought sore muscles a joke, Sheila decided, it must be cause he had never experienced them. Or, had he? “Mm,” Joe said, while Bill stood by attentively and the others remained silent. “Jackson Heights. That's Bailey's theater? Well—you could make it in a taxi. After the show. Just a number or so. Is that right, Lane? Or a song.” Bill leaned forward confidentially, though his lowered voice reached and was meant to reach every corner in the room. ‘‘Shayne puts over a song number in great style.” Dick Stanley's pleading eyes met the girl’s for an instant as she wavered. “I would like to accommodate you,” she began, then added hastily, “but I haven’t been dancing. I’ll be awfully tried, I’m afraid—” “You seem in excellent practice,” Trevor Lane began politely. “It’s not that!” Sheila flushed. “I may be too stiff by that time to dance well. Maybe you’ve ridden horseback—and know how difficult it is?" She laughed ruefully. “Perhaps some other time!” a tt a HER heart pounding, saying loudly. “You little fool! Why are you refusing? Mr. Stanley will be there! You’ll see him. Maybe he will take you home. Tell him you’ll be glad to fill in.” “We pay 50—” “Seventy-five!” announced Dick briskly, slyly nudging Trevor. “And,” grinning boyishly, “we guarantee you an awfully good time. For you’ll stay for the party, of course?” This, she knew, was irregular. Unbusinesslike. They got things from you they didn’t pay for—extra songs, maybe dances, even a lesson or so. The men gathered around, considering a chorous girl fair prey. The girls snubbed you if you were good-looking, or if you clever they said catty things. No, the wusest thing was to keep aw'ay. Still $75 is s7s—a full wardrobe with careful buying! Anew evening gown, new hat, new suit, shoes! But why put herself at a disadvantage? Why appear beside society girls, wealthy young women of this man’s own set, with the comparison all in their favor? Meticulously groomed, born to luxury anr ease, never a w r orry or thought for tomorrow. “I’m sorry. I’d love to some other time. It’s awfully nice of you to ask me.” “Some other time, then, Trevor Lane said simply. He did not appear even vaguely disturbed. Dick 'Stanley looked crestfallen. Joe Paris regarded her doubtfully and Bill glared. “Can’t I persuade you?” Dick asked in a low tone as the others moved aw'ay. “No, really I can’t do it. Not tonight.” “Suppose I leave the telephone number with the girl? Will you use it if you change your mind?” She shook her head. “No. Well, maybe. Yes, leave it. But don’t be disappointed—” “Please change your mind. I’ll expect to hear from you.” why hadn’t he asked for her telephone number, Sheila w'ondered as he disappeared in the direction of the others. Didn’t he know she had burned the bridges? That she couldn’t telephone him now? He thought he could find her in the telephone book, perhaps. As if she could afford her own apartment in these days! Sheila sighed. An opportunity had vanished. But work remained. Doggedly she went into the routine, her clicking heels beating out the rhythm ar faithful Timmy played. CHAPTER SIX THE ride to Jackson Heights in the subway was tiresome. Sheila had practiced all day, hardly stopping for lunch, her muscles becoming more painful as the hours progressed. She knew that a dancer already known as a success never would have consented to fill in this way after weeks w’ithout practice. Os course there w'ere few dance instructors like Brady. This Sheila understood. Brady had been patient and she had intelligence and talent, but no one, not even Brady, could turn out a really finished number in so short a time. Next week some time—Bill had been rather vague about it—there w'ould be another lesson. Three routines for SSO was his price and Roscoe probably had not overpaid him for rushing Sheila through the paces. Her muscles did ache fearfully. If she had had the money to spare, Sheila w-ould have taken a cab. She did not have the money and her little overnight bag, with makeup and a book to read during w T aits, stood at her feet in the subway car where fare was only a nickel. “Maybe I should have gone to Mr. Lane's party after all,” Sheila thought ruefully. “Seventy-five dollars is a lot of money. And he said I could sing—” But she had not telephoned the number Dick Stanley had left for her. Neither had he called back to remind her .hat the opportunity still was open. He might have done that. She hardly had expected it —yet was disappointed because he didn’t. (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

pr all YOLJVEr DOME IS BRAG? ABOUT vjpL " 'ifik CLAMP "MAT DERRICK. $7 VOUR GREAT HASSLIN' HOLDSAN* HOL'D ON HIM/ |§\ TM‘ BEST HOLD YOU KNOW IS ON A / A MAJOR !—Y'KNOW, KNITE AN' FORK -THIS HOLD IS if , r-V <\ THAT ONE YOU U TH' AIRPLANE SPIN—AN 1 I'M >VA CV \\ TOLT> V CSONNA vyHEEL YOU AROUND UNTIL woRKCEI[:> ON THOSE \ YOU'RE DIZZIER THAN A TOP A- 0 AT ‘T I )

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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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

UiliMlim MBBI Copjrrlfht. 1(32. by £6gtr Rice Burroughs. Inc ; K/Lu ku "" HHHHpg . " —< DUtributed by UnJt*d Tenure Syndicate, Ine. J** ">

Although Tarzan could not distinguish their words, he distinctly heard a man and woman speaking. The next room was dark, its window unlatched. All quiet within, the ape-man slipped Into the vacant room.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Silently he crossed to the door behind which he now heard two voices raised as though in argument. “I have brought the locket,” the woman said, ‘ agreed between you and our General as my identification. I carry no other credentials.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

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f (SlUGue PILE, I—. OUT 'HIS HIGHMeSS" IS PeUftHTEP. HE OUTFITS THE GUARPS SPLENDIPLY, ANP BEGINS AT ONCE To TRAIN \ M V> Them in tricky military formations. J —J a sr e*T ofr 'e iw by wt* scwvKt. iwc.’y

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‘So give me the papers and let me go." The man's reply was so low Tarzan could not catch the words. Then the woman spoke again—a note of scorn and perhaps fear in her voice. ‘‘You would not DARE, Ivan Karzenofll’ she said. *

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“Do not touch me! Take your hands from me!” It was then that Tarzan of the Apes opened the door and stepped into the room. He saw a huge, bull-necked officer and a girl futilely struggling against unwelcome advances.

PAGE 11

—By Williams

—By Blosser;

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin