Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 223, Indianapolis, Marion County, 26 January 1933 — Page 15

PAGE 15

SPOTOSBUII

BFC.IN HFBF TODAY ffHELIA SHAYNF t< dind frr.m anew p; because MARION RANDOTPH the star, l* Jeal*. r• h*r. Sheila searches lor trora and finally secures a part In musical aho non t cr> cn tour. DICK fSTANLEY, rich end socially prom nent, arks her to cive p this ;ob and marv him. but Sheila ret Her Idea ; marriage a home in some little t'.sn far from Broad’sav Sheila is friendly with JIM BLAINE, another set nr j n the rompany from which she \>as discharced When Jim offer. M• • Randolph quite tmin’entlona. ’ he a„ CRAIG fiABBOTT ho is backing the show financially, to discharge Jim . . . Abbott, tired of Marions demands and tired of h'r tiro g 0~ to see J;m and thr< ,gh him securer an introduction to Shells . A few dava ia'er J;m calls Shelia and tells her Ms on Is out of the shots. A mer.tenger comes to Shelias hoarding hou e cringing her a huge basket of red gCr *NO C.O ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWENTY (Continued) “I suppose this sounds funny, com.ng from me, but I guess my acting days arc over. Anyhow. George wants to be able to take me out now and then for the evening. • This wav I'll be free every other evening. The shop has some swell little models ’,ou'd like. Sheila. Better come and look them over.’ “I will. Mvrt. I need some things." "Did I hear you turning down a Broadway job?” Myrt went on warily. "You heard me turn it down to Rome one who hadn’t the right to offer it to me. He just thought there was a chance I might be able to land it.’ "You’re still crazy about going on the road?’’ "I guess so.’’ "Well, you know your own affairs, but I guess you're just like George when lie bought that r.ew car. Wouldn’t listen to anything I said.’’ "Anew car? Oh, Myrt, that's fine!” Myrtle’s and George's romance had begun years ago. Myrtle, having stage aspirations, had refused to consider marrying George, who played the role of patient, plodding sweetheart to perfection. George had reappeared as a solid, prosperous Individual, with just a touch of patronage in his air when he regarded Myrt, well past her first youth. "You’d better marry him, Myrt.” Sheila suggested. "You’d better say 'yes’ when he asks you.’’ "If—you mean.’’ Myrt rose. "Is that the doorbell? I'm expecting the man from the cleaner's.” It, was the doorbell and both girls hung over the balustrade with the cheerful expectance a ringing door bell always arouses. They could hear Ma's plodding footsteps along the hall, feel the gust of cool air as she opened the door and hear her ejaculations. "Glory be! All those flowers. No, I don’t, know if she’s home or not. Wait a minute. Sheila! Are you home?’’ “I'm here," Sheila called. ‘‘Come on down, Myrt. Let’s see who it Is.” “I’ll send them up,” shouted Ma, red faced from bending backward to look up where the girls stood. Hovrns only knows what you’ll do with 'em! A basket of red geraniums as big as a tub! And there’s a note with ’em!’’ CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE MYRTLE and Sheila stared at . each other. The flowers were being borne up the stairs in the arms of a staggering delivery man. Sheila had never seen geraniums such as these before. They had been cut and fastened to long stems through which, the man explained, by some cunning arrangement they could absorb water. "We had to send to half a dozen of our greenhouses to get them, Miss,” he said. Sheila thought, ‘‘He wants a tip,’’ and went to get her purse. But the man shook his head. “No, Miss. I’ve been tipped plenty. The delivery man turned and clattered, whistling, down the stairs. "Where are you going to put them?" Myrt asked. The girls surveyed the huge container, water filled, with the crimson geraniums arranged in profusion. They were lovely. Enjoying their unusual beauty. Sheila wondered why they were not more popular. She was to know immediately. “That follow tracked those red petals all over the place!" Ma Lowell ejaculated, puffing up the stairs again after seeing the man out of the house. No one ever came in or went out of the lodging house unless Ma knew r it. “Say—!” she went on. “those geraniums certainly do bring back old times!" Ma had been born in the country. Conversation about her childhood was dotted with reminiscences of a wide range. Today brought forth a wealth of anecdotes—her mother's sunny kitchen window filled with geraniums and begonias. Plant slips exchanged among the neighbors. Ma sighed, as she did frequently, wiping her face with her apron. Both Sheila and Myrt wejl knew that she could not have been hired to return to the life of those days, however much she might sigh for It. ‘‘What are you going to do with these flowers?" Ma asked Sheila. “I don't know. Send them to a hospital, maybe. Wear some ” “Wear them? Geraniums?” "They'll look well with my black chiffon." “Well—maybe. They'd look better to me in a kitchen. You know —one of those little model kitchens you see in the magazines. Checked curtains at the windows and all.” * a a MYRT looked at the other girl. "I’ll bet you’d rather have a kitchen like that than your name in electric lights." "I might.’ "Read the note. Sheila. See what he says. Os course, it’s none of my business !’’ Sheila opened the envelope with fingers that trembled a little. It was written on fine club stationery and the handwriting was just what she would have expected from Craig Abbott. There was humor in his

KEPT RIGHT IN CELLOPHANE

face, in his words, and even in his scrawl. "Funny writing, isn’t It?” was Myrt's contribution. ‘However, it would certainly be useful on a check.” "Dear Little Geranium Lady,” the note began. "If you will have dinner with me tonight or tomorrow night or the night after that—or all three of them—l’ll tell you something to make even your lovely hair curl a little tighter. I’ll call you this mornmg at 11” And at 11 Abbott called. Sheila had told him she had a dinner engagement for that evening. but they arranged a tea date. And perhaps,” Abbctt said. "I can persuade you to rearrange your other plans after that. Who is the man, anyhow? “If it is Stanley, can’t all three of us have dinner together? He is as interested in your future as I am.” The girl smiled wisely into the transmitter. "It isn’t Dick,” she said. "And I can t break the engagement.’’ ‘‘Well, we’ll see about that later. Meanwhile, put on your best air of expectancy. I have news for you.” a a a AT 4:30 they were seated in a taxicab threading along Broadway. Sheila had learned several things in the meantime. She had learned that Craig Abbott, the young man she had supposed to be a casual, old-time acquaintance of Jim Blaine's, was the man whose money had financed “When Lights Are Low.” He was the man responsible for her losing her job in that play. Somehow she din't feel as angry about that as perhaps she should have been. Abbott, resplendent in a beautifully cut suit and an amazing tie, eyed her amusedly. "How’re the rehearsals coming?” he asked. “Almost over. We’ll be leaving for the road, you know, in a day or two.” ‘‘Yes.l know. I own part of that show, as it happens. Oh, you didn't know that, did you?” "Well,” said Sheila. "I hope that doesn't mean bad luck for me. You were backing ‘When Lights Are Low, too, weren't you?” Abbott nodded. "I was. But that’s another story. What I have to tell you today is that I’m still backing ‘When Lights Are Low.’ Miss Randolph’s out of it. Left for the west last night. Why don’t you take over her part?” "I knew Marion Randolph had gone,” Sheila told him. "But she had a contract, didn't she?” I don’t understand about that part.” "She did have.” Abbott’s tone was serious. ‘‘But I released her. She had a fine film offer. Since both shows are mine, why don't you go into the other one and stay here?” Sheila's head bent lower as she pondered. Here was the opportunity to go into a Broadway play in the leading role! It would mean that her name would be featured. Or did it? "You will be the star, of course,” Abbott continued. "Think of it— Sheila Shayne in ‘When Lights Are Low’! How does that sound to you?” a m a TTOW did it sound? To be a star on Broadway! Oh, Sheila was sure she could fill the part. She could bring to it much that Marion Randolph had lacked. Sheila's voice wasn’t as good as Marion's, but it would do. And she could dance much better! It was true that Marion Randolph had a reputation and a following. Sheila had none. Audiences liked her. but she never had had a role important enough to make her well known. (To Be Continued) %~TSCpR AW BY BRUC£ CATTON THE terrible "Sepoy mutiny” of 1857, when the British came within an inch or so of being hurled out of India, isn't a familiar story in the United States. We’ve all heard about it, but w'e know almost none of the details; and, considering the present situation in India, a review of the whole affair is rather timely. Such a review is provided in "Bengal Mutiny,” by George Dangerfield. Here is a compact, well-writ-ten book, full of terror and heroism. of cruelty and self-sacrifice, of stupidity and wise endurance—one of the most horrible and fascinating of all the chapters in the history of imperialism. In 1857 Britain ruled India largely through native troops. The revolt came largely because of the incredible denseness of British officialdom. Mr. Dangerfleld shows that It could have been avoided by even the most sparing exercise ox common intelligence. That intelligence was lackinkg. however, and India caught fire. There followed the frightful massacre of Cawnpore, the siege of Lucknow, a whole series of killings and burnings and torturings. Then the British got control again and proved that they could be quite as cruel and bloodthirsty as the Indians had been. Two things impress you in this story: The obtuseness of the British generals, and the magnificent, heroic endurance of their subordinates. The book shows the sons of the empire at their worst and at their best. The worst was pretty bad. and the best was very splendid. Published by Harcourt. Brace & Cos., "Bengal Mutiny” sells for $2.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

r SO 1 . VOU TRIED TO V/ OH, PLEATH LET ME (/ MO, NOl \ REFUTH Y HELP! HE ITH \ Apip NOO? 60! - I BEG- /To PUT ON A UNIFORM. ) BECOMING VIOLENT. "YTTr ; ( 1 IMPLORE. I'M THANE. I VOON’T'. I WONT! N--- - y ‘ T 1 ...

SALESMAN SAM

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

mmammM'M BKwii?iMrolMP? >l^lPl I c fr> TaT " ~^VHHHBB9O9HHI

Huddled at the far side of the hut, Olga awaited she knew not what impending fate. She could not sleep, so filled was her mind with wild schemes of escape. Half an hour later her guard entered and tried to talk to her. shrinking, she drew yW&y.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

“Do not touch me!” she cried. “I will tell Usanga if you do not leave me alone, and you know what he will do to you!” The fellow only laughed drunkenly and dragged her toward him. t Fighting, she called in terror for Usanga.

—By Ahem

OUT OUR WAY

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At the same instant the entrance to the hut was darkened by a man's figure. “What is the matter?’ shouted the newcomer. Olga recognized the deep voice as that of the black sergeant, Usanga. He had come; but would she be any better off? I

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

When Usanga found w*hat had happened he kicked the warrior out of t-he hut. After the fellow disappeared the sergeant approached the terrified girl. Twice she avoided him, but in hla third rush seized her in his .'ung, ape-like arms.

TAN. 26, 1933

—By Williams

—By Blosser,

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin