Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 250, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 February 1933 — Page 15

FETT. 27, 1033

' ir ~f~ hi I-AURA LOO

nif.is iif RK today JANET HIM, I* n.gugen to F.OLP CARLYLE, l.’i; )h<". dn not h'<* cnoueh tr.rci'-v to marrv Janet I* 'ecretary for BRYCE HAMILTON adverlislnit manager of f;-.< Home Magazine and Rolf Uf.rks for ihf At- Advertising Cos. ‘ jane* m*f>! they must have 1500 In a .".a-, mgs account before they can get HOWARD CRE63Y. another employ of the ica; *.e, tries to make date* vi*h Jai.et but .'he dl-ro.rages him She i irr.e* home from the office one R a t • prepare a surpriie blrthdiiv diti.ier for Rolf. On the way ahe ?e r f rouple entering the fashion* able Brevier Hotel Coffee Shop and at first <> nks the .g n.an Is Rolf. Afterward she deddit she was mis* talten. The dinner par'y is a success. Ro.: tells Jane 1 there - something he van's to ta.,r to her about but later etadcs ar.d says It was nothing " CHAPTER THREE 'Continued) They made the two blocks almost in silence. Janet was tired *—pleasantly tired —for it had been ft full day. She was glad Rolf didn't want to talk, giad to sink Into the comfortable seat in the darkened theater and glad that the music a screen orchestra was playing was a soothing, melodic waltz. At first she paid little attention to the picture. It was a romance of a girl who worked lor her living and a wealthy young aristocrat. From time to time the pretty blond heroine sang the waltz song. The plot became complicated, the hero and heroine had a misunderstanding and parted. The hero <whose fan mail was so great that lie employed three secretaries to answer it) was not nearly so handsome as Rolf. He did, of course, have personality, an air or a manner that made all those women write to him. 1 Janet sitting beside Rolf, listening to the music, pictured herself in the heroine’s role and Rolf as the hero. She grew interested. When at last the screen actor took the leading lady into his arms, when all their difficulties had been swept away and a long life of happiness stretched before them she felt that it was her own future that was thus assured. Her future and Rolf’s. “I loved it!” she told him as they left the theater. ‘ I thought it was a wonderful picture!” "Not bad.” ana IT did occur to Janet as they walked home that Rolf was unusually quiet. Generally* she was the quiet one and he did the talking . Generally he had plans for the next day. As it turned out, Rolf did have plans. They had almost reached her door when he said casually, ‘■By the way, Janet, I may not be able to come around tomorrow. Fellow I used to know in school is going to be in town. "I promised Id look him up—don't know what he'll want to do. Os course if I can break away early I'll give you a ring ’ Janet said she didn’t mind. It wasn't true, but she knew it was what Rolf expected her to say. And of course if he could break ..away from this friend he’d give her a ring. “Thanks for the swell birthday party,” he told her with that careless smile. 'And the present. It was a big surprise—and a grand one! You're sure you don't mind about tomorrow, honey?” "Os course not* Only I hope you'll call.” •11l try. Well—take care of yourself.” That was Rolf’s good-night. He always said it. "Take care of yourself.” Janet had heard it so many hundreds of times. It was a joke because Rolf always said it with a grin that made it one. A hasty kiss—they stood in the entrance of the rooming house and of course it had to oe a hasty one and then he was gone. Tanet went upstairs. She entered her room, switched on the light. There was the table just as they had left it. Already the rosebuds were beginning to' wilt. Ashes from Rolf's cigaret made a dark smudge in the little pottery tray. The dishes, stacked unwashed, looked drearily untidy. Should she wash them tonight or leave them until tomorrow? Janet considered—and her housewifely instinct won. • As easy to do them now as in the morning. She tied the blue and

7T6QDK A IWI BY BRUC£ CAJTON

EVERY novelist must be tempted occasionally to devote a book to the history of a house. Houses have adventures, just as people have, ancl their life stories can be interesting. It's a wonder, really, that the stunt isn't tried oftener. Helen Ashton has done it in the current novel. "Belinda Grove." and the venture isn't quite as successful you might expect. Belinda Grove is a rather pretentious house on the edge of London. built just after the Napoleonic wars by a dissolute young nobleman ns a homo for his mistress and a quiet retreat for his card parties. From these folk it passes to an upright, sober merchant, whose daughter finds romance in the house, lets it slip out of her hands, and goes mad. Then, as this family too passes on, the house goes on downhill. It is used for a time as a madhouse; it gets cut up into apartments, its neighborhood goes to seed, its tenants change from the shabby genteel to the downright shady, it serves *as annex to a hospital—and at last it is torn down to make way for a new motor highway. Mrs. Ashton has presented the people who occupy the house with a good deal of care, and has succeeded in making them real. But somehow the book seems disconnected and jumpy. The thread that ties it together isn't quite strong enough. And it isn't helped much by the ineffective ghost whom the author stations in published by Doubleday, Doran & Cos., "Belinda Grove" costs $2.50. ' the garden.

I white apron about her waist and set ! to work. She was rinsing glassware in a pan of steaming water when there was a knock at the door. Who is it?” Janet called. A rumpled yellow head appeared in the doorway. It’s me—Mollie,” said a husky voice. “Mind If I come in?” “Os course not.” u u a THE girl who entered wore an orange colored flannel bathrobe. pink pajamas and bright red I heel less slippers. She held the collar of the bath- ! robe tightly about her throat and ! just as she was about to speak again she was overwhelmed by an enormous sneeze. "Heavens, Mollie—what a dreadful cold!” The other girl sank into a chair, j "It's awful!” she moaned. ‘‘l won- | der if you could let me have a j couple of aspirins? Mine are all gone. "I’ve taken so many different cold cures in the last three days it’s a wonder I’m alive. My head feels as big as a tub and it aches and my | nose ” Janet interrupted. "Here’s the | aspirin,” she said. “Wait.—l’ll get ! you some water. But you ought to jbe in bed, Mollie. You ought to stay there all day tomorrow.” Mollie Lambert occupied the room across the hall from Janet’s. She was a bookkeeper in an office on Center street. The two girls were I not particularly friendly, but occa- | sionally one of them would drop into the other's room to borrow matches, | coffee for breakfast, a nickel for a ; phone call, or perhaps to loan anew ; magazine. Having taken the aspirin tablet, Mollie leaned back in her chair. "Been stepping out with the boy friend?” she asked. "We went to the Neighborhood. There’s an awfully good picture there.” "Yeah, I know. Saw it at the Century. Oh, say—have you met the new man?” “Newman? Who?” "I saw him talking to Mrs. Snyder. Name's Grant. He’s a big fellow, sort of good-looking, too. Going to have that front room on the next floor.” Janet said she had not met the new roomer. She was not interested. Newcomers came and went frequently at Ms. Snyder’s. She told Mollie her own way of curing a cold, urged her again to spend the next day in bed, and promised to bring in her breakfast. A few minutes more and Mollie, grateful, had gone. Janet washed the dishes and put them away. She undressed, got out a pink bathrobe, towels and soap and went down the hall to the bathroom. The price she paid Mrs. Snyder each month did not include the luxury of a private bath. Half an hour later Janet slipped between the covers of her bed. She should have been happy; the birthday party had been a complete success. And yet somehow Janet wasn’t happy. She was thinking that tomorrow would be a long day. Rolf wouldn't be there—unless he could escape his unwelcome friend. 'I wonder,” Janet thought just before she dropped to sleep, "what it was Rolf was going tc tell me. It seemed to be important—and then he said it wasn’t. I wonder ?” Janet slept. Better for her that she did not know the answer to that unspoken question. She was to know soon enough. tt a a CHAPTER FOUR THE morning was gray and dismal. Snowflakes, melting to the touch, filled the air with what was more a drizzle than a snowstorm. The snow had been falling for hours, yet there was no sign of whiteness on the ground—only slush and mud. February apparently was trying to reveal just how barren and dreary the world can be. In the second floor bedroom of Mrs. Snyder's rooming house halfpulled blinds dimmed what little j light there was. Janet Hill awoke and moved restlessly, shut her eyes, | opened them again and blinked. Raising herself on one elbow, she | reached for her watch and saw that , it was nearly 10:30. Nearly 10:30! Yes, that was right. Janet’ looked again to make sure. | The morning was nearly half gone. How could she have slept so late? Instead of bothering to answer this question Janet snuggled down again into the warm covers. Put she was only postponing the evil moment. Presently, with a shiver for the chilly air, she sat up. pushed down the sheets and blankets and was out of bed. She crossed the room and closed the window. Then, standing in the middle of the room, she stretched her arms luxuriously above her head. Half an hour later Janet had bathed, dressed and was busy squeezing orange juice with a green glass reamer. The percolator was bubbling and the pleasant odors of toast and bacon mingled in the air. had finished her own breakfast and was preparing a tray for Mollie. When it was ready she carried it across the hall. A muffled voice answered her knock. There was the sound of the bolt turning and the I door opened. j Mo'ilie, still in pajamas, the yellow hair frowzled wildly, appeared in the narrow opening. "Oh!" she exclaimed. “Aren't you the angel. And does that coffee smell good! Come in!” Janet entered and set down the tray., "Sorry to be so late,” she said. 3 overslept. Get back into bed, j Mollie. I'll pull that little table j over and set the tray on it. You : want to drink the coffee while it’s ! hot ” Mollie complied. Propped up. with pillows behind her, she raised the steaming cup to her lips. "Urn s’wonderful!” she announced. “You shouldn't have bothered like this though, Janet. (To Be Continued)

OUR HOARDING HOUSE

I'V& B&&N TPYIN' TO IfjP AH YtiS.TMNNN - W 1 SEE ONE.THING? f BOIL THIS TECHNOCRACY g BUT 3UGT THINK I TO IT- AAY WIFE: l THRU MY PERCOLATOR, /f OF A FOUR-HOUR [S ALWAYS BE ATI N' \ but it don't steam 9 U working "day © ] Tw <song about } JUST A LOT OP- * ) AND A POUR-DAY n LOAF IN WHISTLIN' UP MRWN I WORKING WEEK ' ) A N WITH THIS SPOUT, IP YOU AST ME/ 7 & EGAD MAN—* TECHNOCRACY, \ MY COUSIN LUKE HAS | LOOK AT TH' K' 1D A { > READ EVERYTHING ON LEISURE: IT LOAFIN FOUR J f IT, AN' HEr SAYS YOU U WILL GIVE YOU// HOURS / Jr l CAN PAINT TH' EXCELSIOR Si. J L ft t 1933 BY WE SERVICE. INC ft /

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

r Y’KUOW, BILLY BOWLEGS, K CERTAINLY / EVERYONE OP f BUT HOW ABOUT THOSE.I THREE CF THE. BLOOD lEST'N C /aYL.LAOS! THEBE WAS U (wm ~ ~ ?^| I THINK ALLOFTHE STORIES J 'EM - WHAT STORIES THAT PIRATES WHO HID PLANTED THE.IR LOOT / BENITO,OF THE BLOODY J HUMORED ABOUT TREASURE BEING ' \ TIMY SPECK OF LAMD L STUFF THERE. ? ON COCOS ISLAND. V SWOED- ED DAVIS —AND \ MILES OFF THE. BURIED OM COCOS ISLAMD J COULD TELL THEY SAY K L, CAPTAIN THOMPSON, A J COAST OF MIGHT JUST BE BUM K— )IT HAS SEEN THE RISE AND J \ S' \ SCOTCH SKIPPER COLOMBIA*

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

f ( DER. SITUATION HOPELESS 1 . HOW\ ( (/ \ A ( CAN \Jfc HOPE TO R.ECUEFER, OER. V STOLEN MONEY MEN ME GOT NOT L _ > 1 Mon single clue? i OHE CASTLE is in a PUEADFUL STATE. EASY AND THE "HIS HIGHNESS” IS WASHING THE CHIEF ARE P.&ADY TO ADMIT THEIR-DEFEAT, J SUPPER PISHES,, IN PERSON j

SALESMAN SAM

f 7 we.LPI police! ZtOHpiT U3£R.e Na OOIM' UJITH YeR.) '{Ed* HONOR., UJU2A TUAE- ( s six, caonThs. O V J A

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

( f : —I ! ( >1 lUJ AM,BA&COM 1 THE YOONG | I WV,\EEAYvV~' BUT,UNDER. THY I * IREN LAW L I7FT TODAY ; QO\TE YOO GIDEON *BHE \G 1 A6R.EE HAME V\\T YOO MOGT ADM\T MAGK>\V\CLKiV w\th me 60 H l v\ad cadge to PETUQViED Vt '°°' HATiO t 1 LOSE MY HEAD HOME, • r \ - ;s, 1 v —AS WEVV as I; j ■ _ ■ k- . -,t

TARZAN THE UNTAMED

When at last Patricia Canby was freed by the kidnapers, she found herself back in the palace of the Maharajah. Only a brief moment had she seen her captors before they bound and blindfolded her.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

They had dragged her from the automobile in which she and Roger had attempted escape. Quickly the turbaned leader had lifted her to his horse, and with some of his men, sped through the darkness. Others had forced the young Englishman to <jpve on.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

7 T WmovN SHE MAD \ / THi€> CLOSE. ENOUGH Y—i .MO o\JG'vit<iS TbvvnsiCr \j TO SHOW MAY SYMPATHY, \ ID KCK YOU , BuT 1 R)G*-VT FQOmA HERE \ YOU SnouLOvrr havjE V I'vE Got GRA©BtD BEFORE, ; Grabbed her foot \ BEN A Soft-hearted sap J AkaO UP&ET ME.F? Ss w „ / F MOo VsUBPE AMWfiUikiCr y TANARUS” ~ r ~ a gemtyemam, \ Ijl| [I U'D GO BACK AviD \ 1 7 t least sho*n Up St**"" id OP your sifter / \W! SMt'S uunty' ||p | WH7 ,v w

Z/ftLHEN A HANDSOME CARRIAGE DRAVMS UP To THe\ D A PUDGY, ELEGANTLY PRESSED^ ■ va? INDIMIDUAL, WEAR.ING A MONOCLE, STEPS OUT. /- . AH, \MELUI YOU VNILL HAVJE MY LUGGAGE BROUGHT 1 ’ '

*•{ - Y jBL NO\N, MY DEAt< FELLOE ,YOO MOST PACV. OP OBO\ODSLY, €tay\ vgwy- and petopn at once', after\kmat has S\p. THIS'S THE HAPPENED , \T ViOOLD NEOEP DO FOP \T TO L i / CHAP WHO BECOME VtKiOWNi THAT YOD APE \N> MY EMPLOY TP\ED TO . / / / y, [ j WODLD SAY— MIGHT AP9EAP. THAT BOOTS' PESCOE IS, WAS AW ?PEAPUANG.ED,\>G OPDEP FOP (3lN* *+ oopdoy to meet hep st\u. how cooed M i hSTOKSEgPa. IT HAOE BEEN* ?HE LEMEP. SAW HEP. BEFOPE IN) H\S V\FE \ LO > ?009. BASCOM SEEMS TO L wca. t>. spt orr.. g 1933 by he* service* BE MEBEW A OICTIM OF AMCES >

Helpless, Roger had to obey, the cause of Pat’s disappearance a mystery to his mother and himself. At the frontier his escort, evidently on orders, left them. At high speed Roger Cecil raced for Delhi, seeking aid.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Meanwhile, Pat, surrounded by every comfort sleeplessly wondered what this strange turn of events would mean. After the Hindu attendants left her, to her amazement and horror, she learned the reason!,

PAGE 15

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin