Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 8, Indianapolis, Marion County, 20 May 1933 — Page 11

MAY 20, 1033

PflßLinG FOOUilli

.. RFC,IV HFRF TODAY MOMCK O'OARK 20 ar<l Iwsutiful. 1* Jn iov* with DAN CARDIGAN heir to a lorsl fortune Thf-i are nerrellv ereader! RII L O DARK *orrhi* rr.o'her bv Planning to r.-.arrv ANOIK GILLEN, who lis* r.ot ve: go' her fluoric SANDRA LAWRENCE r,l prs'er.dn to Monica f end. ;* TANARUS; .ne "o win Dan from her Sandra dlKnitKts two *er'anH anrt !hri trv to Kidnap her She e*r ape* Dai * moihei md sister trip to a Wvomlnf dude ranch Sandra Is to areompat.-. them Dan floes not an* to co hut hn parents Insist KAY Monr,i -.ouneer si-’er. tells her that MISS COREY an :<1 friend vho has inherited %50 000 is going abroad and wan's Monnie to accompany her NOW (,0 ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX tinued.i Monnie heavy eyed and pale, sipping her coffee, smiled. How marvelous 1 " It made the day seem brighter, this news of something nice happening to someone she knew. Anvthing might happen if Miss Anstice were to be removed from the scene of her labors, after twenty years of writing Belvedere society rotes. It almost helped Monnie to bear the thought that Dan was leaving for Wyoming on the morrow. Perhaps he would call, Monnie thought. Perhaps he would find time to release her surely, he would. But each time the phone rang and she answered It, to find the caller was emphatically not Dan, her heart grew heavier. Kay flew in at lunch hour, sparingly pretty, lit by an inner excitement. "Aren't you off early?” Monnie wanted to know. Usually, the two girls at the library made tea or heated soup over a gas ring in the back room and ate their lunch there. "Just ran over for a second,” Kay carolled. "Something important to tell you. Are you leaving now' for lunch?” Monnie washed her hands at the little cracked basin behind the partition and brushed her hair back tinder the little blue hat. "Ready.” she smiled, linking her trm in Kay's. "What is all this?” tt tt tt KAY looked over her shoulder. . "Miss Anstice ran in this morning,” she confided. ‘‘Guess why she wanted to see me!" "I couldn’t,” Monnie said. “Tell |ne.” Kay paused dramatically, before delivering the bombshell. "She's suggesting me to do her work on the paper while she goes abroad.” "Kay, how splendid! That’s because of the way you worked on the school paper.” Kay squeezed her sister's arm. ‘•Exactly. And Mr. Whittingham thinks I’m much too young, but she's talking him over. She was going to put your name up because she said she knew you could do it "I did help her last winter when she was laid up.” Monnie mused. "Oh, Kay, if you get it I can do lots lor you!” "No, you can’t,” said Kay coolly. "Why not?” Kay's eyes twinkled with mischief. “You goose, can't you guess?” "I don't know what you’re talking about,” Monnie said with impatience. Kay gave her a little shake. "Miss Antice’s going abroad.” she repeated impatiently. ■ Well, what on earth has that got to do with me?” Monnie demanded. "Lots.” Kay fairly bounced. "Oh, I oughtn't to tell you.” she cried. "I practically promised not to but I’m just bursting with it. She wants—she’s going to ask you to go with her.” CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS passed and still no letter came from Dan. Monnie’s eyes ached with looking for it. She never heard the postman’s step on the walk of mornings but her heart beat faster, her palms grew wet. No letter! What could Dan be thinking of? A week. Two weeks. Kay left her temporary work at the library and started to help Miss Antice, who planned to take her leave of absence beginning October first. Monnie’s indifference to the dazzling plan which included herself had at first bewildered, then frightened Mrs. O’Dare. Imagine being asked, at 20. to go abroad! Imagine being blase about, it! No. Monnie’s mother couldn't understand it. Later when comprehension of her

7TSGDK A fW BY BRUCS GAITQN

" A IR ADVENTURE" finds Wil--fV liam Seabrook offering another of his intoxicating travelogue cocktails; only this time, unfortunately, the cocktails tastes rather like ordinary milk. It's nourishing enough, but it doesn't have much kick. This book tells about Mr. Seabrooks flight from Paris to Tnnbuctoo. in company with a Frencn army aviator and a charming feminine novelist from America. It probably isn't Mr. Seabrooks fault that the book fails to be exciting; the trip was just naturally rather uneventful. To be sure, a sandstorm forced the party to alight in the desert and tie their plane down to avoid shipwreck; two French flyers got lost, and they flew out to hunt them. Mr. Seabrook explored a subterranean aqueduct in the middle of the desert, and the novelist got ost with a truck driver in the sandy wastes and aroused a good deal .of anxiety. But it all turned out all right, without much trouble. The sandstorm passed away, the fliers turned up safe and sound, Mr. Seabrook climbed out of the aqueduct, and the novelist popped up undamaged; and. all in all, the book is much milder than Mr. Seabrook's books usually dream of being. Published by Harcourt, Brace & Cos., it is priced at $>2.50.

KEEPS YOU FRESH IN EXPE NSI V SATISFYING

daughter's motives dawned upon her. the poor lady was genuinely worried. The child must care more deeply for Dan thatn any one thought. Monnie had temporized. "But I cant leave Mother Just now,” she had told Miss Antice. "It's terribly sweet of you—l don't know why you thought of me—but I'm needed here.” That much certainly was true. Bill might go off any day now and be married. They hesitated to ask him about his plans. He was moody, taciturn. After that brief formal call of Angie's, they had not seen her. But they imagined his affairs were marching forward with due precision. "Go and enjoy yourself,” Mrs. O'Dare would urge. “We can manage. Kay will be earning almost as much as you. I want you to have the chance.” But Monnie was listless, openly indifferent to the golden opportunity. Once it would have tempted her beyond belief. But these days she moved, ate, walked like a person under a spell. Her eyes had a sleepwalker's heavy glaze. She scarcely knew what food she touched, or who spoke to her. It was Charles Eustace, curiously enough, who roused her from this apathy. He met her one day on the street, walked home with her through a brilliant blaze of September sunlight. "Kay’s been telling me you may go to Paris,” he began smiling. Monnie stirred herself to smile back at him, thinking impersonally how big and splendid and attractive he was. "Kay's spinning day dreams,” she told him. “I’m not going." "Why?” His voice held a note of banter. "Oh!” She lifted her hand and let it fall in a gesture of weariness. "Lots of reasons.” “Monica!” His voice sounded almost stern now'. "You mother wants you to go. Do you know that?” a u u SHE stared at him. "Mother's unselfish. But I really ought to stay at home,” she added bitterly. "I suppose you’ve heard of money troubles. Well, w'e have them. That's part of it.” “Child alive! Do you suppose I don’t know that? Monnie, I've been wanting to talk to you about this. Please let me. I’ve got so much, a great deal more than I need. If you’d only—” She interrupted him. "You mean let you give us money? You know' I can’t do that.” Suddenly she felt the keenest anger toward him. Her eyes flashed. "I know' you mean to be kind —I'm .sure you do,” she said coldly. ‘‘But after all, w'e can’t take charity. No, we’ll muddle along the best we can.” He was offended, she could see that. Perversely, she w'as glad. How dared any one offer her charity? She wouldn't have it. All the pent-up resentment and bitterness of the past weeks willed up in her. “It's bad enough to be poor," she said, her breast heaving, her voice thickening, “without having people pitying you—” “Monnie!” The sound of her name, spoken so, brought her up sharp. “You know you're talking nonsense. No one pities you. It’s envy most of us feel!” "Envy?” She was surprised out of her mood, tears trembling on the ends of her lashes. ”1 said just that and I mean it,” announced the tall man striding beside her. "A home like yours—a mother like that—the simple goodness of the life you’ve led. I tell you it did something to me w'hen first I encountered it.” Monnie was abashed. There was no mistaking the sincerity of his tone. “When I came here last year,” Charles Eustace said quietly, meditatively, almost as though speaking to himself, “I was pretty much all in. Didn’t have much faith in anything. I was out of tune with this country, I’d been away so long. Then uncle asked me if I’d like to vegetate in his old house. I was in no state to decide things for myself. Kong packed me up and brought me here. I hadn't been here long when I met you—all of you. I thought yours w r as the happiest, the nicest sort of family I’d ever met. “I don’t remember my mother. She died when I w’as 4. My father was a busy doctor in New York. I seldom saw him and was sent away to prep school when I was very young. The only home life I'd ever known I'd read about and I didn't really believe in it. Then I discovered your house, where everybody seemed genuinely fond of everybody else and tned to help. I hope.” finished Charles stiffly, "that I don't sound like a sentimental fool, but honestly it did something to me—gave me something I needed. Faith—something like that—l don't know. And you talk about being pitied!" tt tt tt MONNIE, ashamed but stubborn. said. “Then you pretend to think money doesn't count? That's because you've always had so much of it. You’ve never had to worry about where the interest money was coming from, or cry yourself to slep because the girls at school made fun of your old coat.” His voice was gentle now. “I do know it's important. But it’s not all. It smooths life, makes it easy and comfortable. But it doesn't buy affection or the kind of happiness that makes life worth living. “It doesn't make you glad to wake up in the morning. Some day, perhaps. I'll tell you what it means to realize you're glad you're alive after months of staring at a black wall.” "I know what it means to be unhappy,” Monnie muttered. “Don't think I haven't—” "But not black unhappiness, child." he insisted, eager to make his point. "Not the feeling that nothing matters—nothing on earth is worth while —” (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

\eiHl TH’ VERvf PLACE*. NOTH IMG-Too C3-OOD FOR J\ fVOUKETo HAY&VOL MAKeI TESSA MiIMUTe 1 . ALLVA UE,EH <S(RLS? YV UP FOR ME,IM A HURR'f.FWE TA OO .iS 6eT OUT TME unm ciRaK l Ij^pcokCM

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

\J YOU GAVE EXOJEE OE NCUi ,OVD CHAR. OKAY, EOT ,EE OERVi EURE [ 1 feWIE TM 6 ORE THAT EOOT*, UiOOLD MUCH I PAL VOW OOtOT LENOE ! YOU MY I PREFER THAT VOE EE AVOKsE WUEK) EAE l , OUT AViYTWVKG, \ VJORO IF US

TARZAN THE UNTAMED

The Red spy and Roger turned quickly, seeing a devil-faced cat charging rapidly toward them. As Tarzan sprang through the air. the panther with rising anger, saw him. Sheet’s instinct told him this giant Tarmangam was about to rob him of his prey.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Sheeta was hungry 7; he had no intention of being thus easily robbed of the flesh he already considered his own. The girl stifled an involuntary scream as she saw the closeness of the fanged fury bearing down upon them. Unarmed as he war, Roger pushed her behind him.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

f/ 7 VA.es, VJOVvI —A f TVV wiORgOS MADeVth' EFPCiEviO-/ MISTER \ 1 DiD WmOvsl W A LOT O* A EXPERTWiU. NCST.Ce HO'ST, mow To set But nmoggo make. some Day. \Nl\_\_ MOO TMEVA -rPiMO<=>— r A LOTMORE ,IF AN’ They'uL hame Shlcw XAS A-k/\-k*-ka _ ,16 \ SYEP'YBoOY WIOOV.D ASiGn pp~ To SET Seem SEaRs , sxmce reAM . 1 DOnT Us4CW ( /IF YOU Ocn'T MVcw TmiS BEvEL- T-oB- gE6e.ee, | \ wimen TLem Ocn't / AW X OCn't I PpcTPactor l ncw-waitamivkte. Know, ini TU^EE i For? them 1 —■ V vmoQDS-njoT v reg. u. s. pat, off. T~HS OLD STALL

(ci HE V6RN NEXT DAN, COOKIE BAXES EASY HAS HAP NOTHING To EAT FOP.^I l-FPiE. wiNEEKS EOT STALE BREAD, BEANS, AMD I JUST 4/helU I AND THE MOQE HE SMELLS THE V. V P)E, THE HONGiRIER HE SETS. v. — / \ -J- / ELATES* I'M } / '/ 601 NU TO GET pit. oa V V % V ' ! f© 1933 BY NCA SCRVICC. INC.

'6—* Vo €Nt ANYTH\M6 TO WU.NES TACT\C<b GIOUVO EE Q.ONTE | *>RE Bvff, ' FEED THAT BUCKO SOME KNUCKLES, OFEENSiUE, VF 1 O'OnT KNOVO THPT I To SET ON | EOT WOK> BVAZES CAM YOH SET HE IS PROTECTING YOO AMO TAKING. | VNtTH YOOQ SORE AT A SOY LIKE HWA? AGG TH\j> INTEREST IN W PERSONAG I STORY j

Shielding her with his body, Roger stood squarely in the face of the panther's charge. Tarzan noted the act, and though accustomed as he was to acts of courage, he experienced a thrill from the hopeless and futile bravery. Tlie charging panther moved rapidly.

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

The distance between Sheeta and his prey was not great. In a few seconds the strong-limbed cat could have covered the distance and made his kill. Yet if Sheeta was quick, quick too was Tarzan, The English lieutenant saw the ape-man flash by hrm like the wind!

PAGE 11

—By Williams

—By Blossei:

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin