Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 25, Indianapolis, Marion County, 9 June 1933 — Page 27

JUNE 9, 1933.

Pori inG Tool

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR (Con) "Everybody in this wretched place.” The words came between sobs. “At first you were so nice—wonderful, really. I never had known any one like you. But now (you're hke all the rest. Go away! I never want to see you again! ’ Presently, she was able to raise her head, to dry her eyes. Charles Stood watching her wretchedly. "Monnie, if you'd only listen—” She shook her head with tragic dignity. "You can't do anything now. You've done the worst. I •hall never forget it—” Nor forgive, added her sore heart. a a a MONNIE dressed half-heartedly for the coming of her visitor ti nr evening. He had said his train v .:• arrive at seven and he would c.n, directly afterward. Monnie was not thinking very clearly of him. Over and over again ph< rehearsed the scene of the afteri i. Word.. expression, gestures—pli w i re printed on her brain. She looked at herself curiously in th mirror, h>r eyes darkening at tie though; of Charles’ kisses. How h <i ever dared? Oh, she would hew him. He thought the worst of D . anyhow. She might as well gr. <* him reason for thinking it. K:icame in as she was putting ti finishing touches to her hair. .Vee," commented the younger sirte: briefly. "I like your hair that v: v Makes you look frail and ini’ : ting.” She grinned, gaminw:.‘ e. "What's this king of finance like, at how?” Kay demanded, dropping on the bed and propping her chin on her linked fingers. "I'm dying to see him. if the country clubbers thought we had bagged such a big bird, they'd all be on our doorstep." He's—well, he looks like a movie director’s idea of a Wall street man,” Monica confessed, wrinkling her brows. "He knows what he wants. When he goes into a restaurant all the waiters jump.” "Mmmm-mm,” Kay sighed deeply. “Then he’s a man after my own heart. I like 'em bossy.”' "He's so rich, it scares you,” Monnie said after a pause. "But he's nice in spite of it.” "lake him?” Kay watched her idly. "Oh, yes.” Monnie polished her hails. “Don't seem awfully enthusiastic.” "Don't I? Well, I can't help that. He really is splendid and I'm very anxious to see him.” Kay rolled over on her back and regarded the ceiling. "Home Town Girl Marries King of Wall Street.” she chanted sweetly. ‘"Hung With Ropes of Diamonds.” “Don’t be an idiot.” Monnie tightened her lips, remembering the man who had held her in his arms only a few short hours oefore. Charles would see! She would show him. li Arthur Mackenzie asked her to marry him tonight she was going to say "Yes.” CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE ("YOING down into the neat little I parlor. Monnie was abruptly conscious of the room's shabbiness. The rug long since had taded. its bright, original pattern lost. They had bougfit the couch in the corner the year Daddy died and somehow, since, there had never been enough money to recover it. There was a vo a place on one of the cushions. The curtains were spotless, like everything else m Mrs. O’Dare’s home, but they had quite obviously been patched and darned. There were sculled marks—the sort small, sturdy shoes make—on all the chairs and on the upright piano. How shabby. Monnie thought with b pang, all this would look to the urban eyes of her distinguished visitor. Ah, but she chould change all this in the twinkling of an eye if only she wanted to! No longer need her mother ruin her eyes over fine mending, prolonging the life of damask and wool. No longer need the table be set with cracked, chipped china. The O'Dares could have silver and fine linen. Her mother could have luxury beyond her brightest dreams. Monnie considered that she had known the wildness and despair of first love and it had brought her nothing. Arthur Mackenzie would bring her the calm, assured devotion of middle age. Along with this he could offer her security and assurance. These thoughts raced through Monnie's mind ns. before the mirror in the hall, she touched her hair nervously, smoothed her frock. What are you thinking of?” Kay asked. Monnie made a sweeping gesture. “Wondering what lie'll think of—all this.” "Won't like it?” “Won't -?” Monnie wrinkled her nose. "I don't much care whether he does or not. I was thinking how dull this place must bo for mother. She knows every worn place in the rug. every scratch on the furniture. 1 was wishing I could make a clean sweep of it all. get her new things.” 8 8 8 "ryYE know,” Kay interrupted with an air of sagacity, "I don’t believe she minds so much—not as we do. Every bit of it—the shabbiness I mean—is home to Mother. We're always going about, seeing other people's things and bring envious. But she never complains.” "Just the same. I'd like to be able to get her new things,' said Monnie sturdily. "And someone to help her—to wash dishes and do the heavy part of the cleaning. ' She must have washed millions of dishes In the last ten years." "Not for me! ' yawned Kay lazily. “I never mean to wash any. When I'm an old maid I shall live in one room—a studio—and have a maid in a gray uniform to wait on me.” "That would be nice,” Monnie agreed dreamily, straightening a picture. "Where is Mums, by the way?* "She ran across to Mrs. Cox's, with some broth. Della is sick with flu or something.” "I wish she'd rest once in a while," Monnie complained. "She never stops. It worries me."

1 i I 1 I MKT THE BREATH

"Bhe doesn't want to,” Kay told her older sister. “She loves doing the things she does." “I guess you're right. But I want her life to be easier, Just the same,” Monnie persisted. Kay sprang to attention at the sound of the bell. "Guess that's your man." “Don't run away, please!” Monnie besought. “I'll feel such a fool. Answer the door like a good girl.” Kay complied, looking, in her blue frock, like a modern angel with a halo of fair curls. Kay had charming manners, Monnie reflected, listening to her sisters fluty voice in greeting. Yes, Kay had a great deal of promise. Unless Monnie did something about it. though, her sister would be buried forever in this small place. There were all sorts of reasons for Monnie to accept Arthur Mackenzie. And no obstacles. In an instant he was before her, dominating the small room, bigger than she remembered him, impressive in his big coat with the scent of damp tweed and good Russian leather clinging to him. 8 8 8 MONNIE was laughing, finding she had nothing to say. a trifle shy with the great man. Was it possible she had been so casual with him in London? All that seemed ages ago, and she herself at that time another girl. “But you look splendid!” “Thank you.” He made her feel Vi nail and ehildish. He would not let Kay take his coat —nonsense. It could go right there on the hall tree. It was a wretched night. He had a car waiting. He was driving on to Cincinnati. He would take a plane the day following on his way w'est. Monnie said shyly that she was sorry she couldn’t invite him to stop with them. Without seeming to, his shrewd glance took in the little house. That was kind, he said, but he'd planned to go on. This must be the western hospitality he'd heard so much about. Kay drifted away with a murmured excuse after a moment or two, and Monnie heard the click of her mother’s key in the lock. Mrs. O'Dare would slip upstairs to freshen her costume and brush her soft graying hair before presenting herself to the visitor. They made small talk. Mackenzie seemed interested in everything. What was Monnie doing? Ah, that sounded good! Did she like her new work? And her brother—the older one? What about him? This little sister was a beauty, wasn't she? Every one thought so, Monnie agreed, kindling at his praise. Kay had thought, of going on the stage, she added, but just now she seemed perfectly happy, working on the local newspaper. Insisted on contributing her share to the family income, too. "She'd make a sensation in New York," Mackenzie said enthusiastically. "With the right gowns. And she should have her hair done byAntoine. She has a rare quality.” Monnie turned at the faint rustle in the doorway. “My mother,” she introduced proudly. Mackenzie, springing to his feet, bowed low. One might, thought Monnie, her heart swelling, be ashamed of the scuffed chairs and threadbare carpet, but any one in the world would be proud of a mother like that. Character was molded on the ver" bones of the fine face. The eyes were beautiful, although they had lost the sparkle of youth. “Mother wouldn't be one bit different, in satins,” the girl reflected loyally, listening to the pleasant voice. “But I want her to have them just the same.” u a a SOON they were alone together, and the man turned toward her. “I like them all,” he told her swiftly. “They’re great, your people. Just what one might expect,” “Thank you.” She flushed at his honest admiration. "Monnie. I haven’t long to stop. I must settle this business quickly. Do you know what I've come for?” That was a hard question to answer, in all simplicity, but her eyes were eloquent. “Have you though it over, dear? I hate to rush you, but it seems to me I’ve been waiting a long time. What have you "o say to me?” She lifted her head. The words wore trembled on the tip of her tongue, but just then there was an interruption in the form of a long peal at the bell. Sounds from the kitchen regions indicated Kay and the mother were busy with domestic duties and had not heard the sound. "I'll go,” Monnie said swiftly, somehow glad of the respite. She hastened to the door, making a pretty picture in her swirling frock, her cheeks rosy, her eyes alight with excitement. To her amazement, Charles Eustace stood on the threshold. “May I come in for a moment, Monica?” He was looking very handsome. “I want to talk to you.” What could she say? What could she do? He had never been refused admittance at this hospitable door before. Monnie opened it wide, and he followed her into the room where Mackenzie, lounging against the mantelpiece, examined some old photographs. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had a guest.” Charles’ tone was steely, polite. But Monica, having brought him thus far, had to go on. In a cool voice she introduced the men. "Mr. Mackenzie, Mr. Eustace.” Mackenzie turned, recognition dawning in his face, his annoyance for the moment in abeyance. "How do you do. But we’ve met before!” Charles acknowledged the sentense with an ironic bow. "Whatever shall I do with them both?” the girl asked herself despairingly. "Everything is spoiled now. Charles hates me for having Arthur here—not that it matters! Tomorrow he’ll know the truth!” (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

jF GETTING TH LOW OH—THAvTS BE fON THAT NOSE,Ad_L RIGHT? IfpC TH MA3OR—I THOUGHT GONNA VAAVc ENOUGH ' T WAS A SEAL.'SALANONG ) \ "RED PAINT, MISTER \ l A "RED BALL WHERE . / v "RIGHT NOW YOU HAVE "“N ARE VOU GOING TO HANG 5 f TH'START "FOR TWO PICTURES- TH'PORTRAIT WHEN ITG j A STILL LIFE OF A { 'FINIGHE'D,/V\A3OR—T N < TOMATO —OR A VENETIAN ) A GHOOTING 6ALLERX *2 1 i HEM ,■BERN AUDY / ] Fr W \ THEIR APPRECIATION ) Ifr ' r — l |

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

SALESMAN SAM

UJA.NT Sefc croe> ©Acx/ttuvC? coell, /TYiO* TueTs final'. •? ? ? ffH&x rut t "Y c ( I*l \ (DELL, (TsTOO BAD; BUT l Took VOUR Jest u)ATcU ME I ! (. Ac. * " * \ev FftiUMf-r OUT) / 7|, , i PLACE. UJHEM tAR. VIATOR. BOOTED ) I GoT A , ' *j = t=r NAATAfJ'cS-, V Hi 1

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

Tarzan saw the English officer, helpless upon the ground, surrounded by the deserjers from the Red army. He knew who these men were. He saw the plane coming toward him was piloted by the sergeant Usanga, and seated behind was the white girl whom Tarzan only knew as the Red spy.

TIIE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

How it befell that the ignorant savage could operate the plane. Tarzan could not guess. But his knowledge of Usanga, together with the position of the white man, toS£ aim the’ Dlapa was attempting to carrying off the white girl. Already the machine was slowly leaving the ground.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

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r . (rtf 4 1^ YEAW BCST 1 *bT\V.V - SO(iE 1 bAE AP© N'NE YOO YMOLO MORE I HEWR OP TH' CAT if ‘ i AV‘ ABOOT VMM THAN W H THAT (NAS / f ™ j. A VMEP.E Avx. CAOE>tO BY Ml/ YOO’Rfc TEWIN’ wS-: BY r — J V£EE9\N’ TW\NGE> ■ | w gfV ii J3 g> 13 rr MIA scwvicc. mc.ntG U s pat orr -H

At first Tarzan thought of fitting an arrow to his bow and slaying Usanga. He abandoned the idea when he realized that the moment the pilot was slain, the machine would dash the girl to death. There was but one way in which he might hope to aid her! _

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Usanga did not see him, being too intent upon the unaccustomed duties of a pilot. But the blacks across the meadow saw a giant white man leap from the trees and race rapidly toward the plane. With loud and savage cries and menacing weapons, then ran forward to intercept him.

PAGE 27

—By Williams

—By Rlosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin