Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 42, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 June 1933 — Page 17

JUNE 29. 1933

Bargain JSride ly ICATHARINE HAVILAND TAYLO& *ln MCA MWICI.WC.

BEGIN HERE TODAY BARRETT COLVIN. tack In Nr w York alter vear* abroad, fail* In love with 20-vear-old ELINOR STAFFORD. Barrett it 35. wealthy, and ha* made a tame tor himself an archeologist. LIDA STAFFORD. Elinor a beautiful mother, has kept the girl in the tack- £ round, wanting at’ention for herself. Ida is carrying on a flirtation with VANCE CARTER and constantly scheming to keep in the good graces of rich MISS ELLA SEXTON her husband's aunt. In order to inherit a share of the Bexton fortune Year* before Barrett ahleided hi* halfsister. MARCIA when a youthful romance ended disastrously. Marcia had a son whom Barrett adopted. She tell* Barrett that if her husband ever learns of the affair he will never ftrglve her. Elinor* mother goes to Miami for three weeks When she returns she deliberately tries to break up the romance between Barrett and Elinor and succeeds The girl is heart-broken because she doe* not hear from him Barrett and Elinor meet unexpectedly at Miss Ella Sexton's He offers Lida a cigaret n d she refuses, declaring she does . not smoke. Rebellious at her mother s hypocrisy. Elinor takes a clgaret. thereby offending her aunt who once more decides to revise her will. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER SIXTEEN ELINOR never had had such a session with her mother as that on the drive home from Miss Ella's. She said again and again, “Mother, people are staring—!” but it made no impression. The chauffeur's face reddened from the stares of men and women in the cars they passed. Lida’s voice was so loud and high-pitched it could be heard through the glass. “I pity that girl!” the chauffeur thought. Now r Lida was laughing—a shrill, sneering, hysterical laugh. So far as the chauffeur could hear there had been no reply at all from Miss Elinor. He sympathized with the girl even more deeply as he opened the door of the car a little later. Lida swept into the building, brittle and strong from her flaming anger. Elinor crept after her, her face paperwhite. Elinor’s reactions were divided. In one way, she was glad that she had done what she had. For another reason she deeply regretted it. Lida had said, eyes narrowing and glittering, “Think of your father! They way he has slaved all his life. And now you—with a cigarette!— have burned every chance he ever had for rest and independence!” Barrett Colvin had not once looked at her. This realization crept between every separate recollection of the afternoon. She had stolen side glances at him, unable to help it. Each time, he had seemed coldly composed, entirely unaware of her. Two long days and longer nights stretched ahead. Elinor could not seem to sleep. On the morning following the second night, Lida awoke to find the girl standing by her bed. o a a WELL, what is it?” Lida flung petulantly. She loathed being disturbed so early. “Aunt Ella’s gone—” Elinor said. Lida sat up. She laughed shrilly. “A pretty time you chose—!” she began. It was the old story Elinor had heard so often during those two dreary days. A story of her having ruined her parents’ future. Lida punctuated her diatribe with questions. “And you know perfectly well how she felt—who telephoned?” “Craven. Miss Smythe is prostrated—” “Miss Smythe prostrated! How delicious! Your father can’t go to the office? He knows that?” “Yes.” “He’li probably be cut off without a cent—as you know. And of course you know why too but, even though he gets nothing, he must keep up appearances. I haven’t a decent black dress. Has Bessie telephoned?” “No.” “That’s odd. I suppose she thinks since they will be the heirs that we are beneath notice. No doubt she’s heard of your part in what happened. Hand me my negligee! Another thing—” She must hurry to the house, Lida realized. There she w’ould have, at least, the satisfaction of treating Miss Smythe with the contempt she felt for her. “Are you going to run my bath, Celeste?’ Lida demanded. The maid looked at Elinor who seemed, in her shabby negligee, a child. Celeste knew that she could leave but Elinor could not.

A rw Y BRUCS CAITQN AMERICA is a problem-hunter’s paradise. Every problem that racks the world today can be found in America in an exaggerated form. The one thing to remember is that it never is safe to judge anything in America by its present state; you have to figure on where it’s headed, instead. So says L. P. Jacks. English educator in “My American Friends,” one of the pleasantest and, I think, shrewdest of all recent overseas studies of American life. Dr. Jacks has toured the republic extensively; he has kept his eyes open en route. He finds America a land of glaring contrasts. Some of the things he saw here moved him to black despair; others filled him with unbounded hope. American cities, he says, display humanity at its very best and its very worst. Beauty and ugliness, wisdom and folly, nobility and crime, all are jumbled together, he says, and from the mixture you can draw practically any deduction you wish. All in all, he is inclined to be more optimistic than otherwise in his conclusions. What the world of the future is to be like, he admits, depends largely on two nations— America and Russia; Russia has already chosen her course, and America is right in the process of making a choice now. In consequence, it is a tremendous exciting place: “My American Friends” is published by Macmillan at (2.

AFTER EVERY MEAL

ELINOR went to her own, much smaller room. She sat on the edge of her narrow’ bed and stared at a worn rug. Perhaps she had —ruined all hope of rest for her father. She heard her mother leaving, heard angry orders flung across a shoulder. Then there was quiet. She must dress, she knew, but delayed, sickened by the thought of what she might have done to her father by smoking that one cigaret. Elinor twisted her hands in mispitying. Ah—she with all the rest of the story! “I brought a little breakfast for you chere Mademoiselle in the small room on the tray.” “Thank you. Celeste!” Elinor tried, because of Celeste and her anxiety, to eat as much as she could of “the little breakfast.” The rest of the day passed slowly. She played chess with her father, wondering if she were really as guilty as her mother said. Memories of Barrett Colvin sitting stiff and cold in Miss Ella’s drawing room haunted the girl. There followed another sleepless night; another day of much the same drear pattern. The third day was perhaps the most miserable, with Lida, nervous and flaring up angrily or becoming sullenly morbid. Every one knew that at four they would go into the late Miss Sexton’s drawing room and there a little later the will would be read. At length, the long stretch was ended. 000 THE funeral was gloomily correct. No one wept except Craven, who was old. and Bessie Thrope, looking a little more bedraggled than usual in her shabby black. Lida was aware of the smartness of her own black attire. She studied Barrett Colvin, who was staring at his hands, gripped between knees. It w'as amazing, Lida thought, to realize how easily he had been managed. She supposed she was in for a bad half-hour with Vance Carter, who would remind her of that promise to divorce Bentwell—a thing she intended to do in time, but only when the right man appeared. How white Elinor was! And how stuffy Bentwell looked. Sentimental fool —he actually was blinking! What a perfect old dodo the clergyman was! Well, Lida knew her share wouldn’t be diminished by him, who, despite Miss Ella’s stern disapproval, had had candles placed upon the altar. Lida looked extremely pensive because she wanted to smile. So terribly apt, that remark! Just an hour or two more and they’d all hear the will. The drive to the burial ground was long and cold, despite the heat in the cars. The snow that had lain for several days had a coating of soot. “ The open grave and the damp earth was depressing. Even Lida felt the dreariness in such passing. She saw Elinor and saw Barrett Colvin’s anxious eyes on the girl. 000 THEN the coffin was lowered. There was the thud of earth on its lid—and the gloomy affair was over. An hour later, Mr. Grotner stood, long fingers tapping the chenille cover of the library table. They were all there before him—Bessie, Jim, Bentwell, Lida, Barrett Colvin, Miss Smythe, and the servants. Lida, assured and half-smiling, was thinking that she might take a house at Cannes for the remainder of the winter with her share. Bessie was hoping there w’ould be enough to make things easier for Jim. Jim was considering a house with more room around it. The children needed space in which to play. Barrett Colvin thought of nothing but the fact that he must not show w’hat. he felt, must not even look at Elinor, sitting beside her father who reeked of Scotch and swayed a little, walking. Mr. Grotner cleared his throat. The rustling and motion ceased; tension was in the air. Mr. Grotner began reading a long preamble in w T hich Miss Ella rendered to God her gratitude for being all that she had been. Then the servants were mentioned. “So stuffy!” Lida decided, twisting her gloves which she had taken off, knowing hew her hands looked against the black she w’ore. She heard the amounts which had been left the servants with growing resentment. So pointless, Lida reflected. Such people were happier working. Imagine $20,000 for Craven! And the interest from a soundly invested SIOO,OOO for Miss Smythe for life. It was amazing. The lawyer cleared his throat again. Ah—now they would hear the rest!

(To Be Continued) June29^ 1577-IVter Paul Rul lrem,Flenush artist _ t born. 177$ -'Molly Pi klter. ■jitfWmeotßatUed Moumoutlu is mad*? a sergeant. Senator William, E.'Borali born 1933'Still refuser ' i to be pitted. I— _ J

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

LAWSE,WSTAH lj YOU'VE: EVER SEEK tASz. IK NNY OnE-NVnK PARADE. MAJORS UNIFORM/THAV I WORE A.I 'N "DAT GRAN RIGGIN'-UPf IN THE "BOErR WAR HAR-RRRUNVF ?)\ WONDAH IFVO’D LET • M IT IS ONLY \N -RECENT YEARS *J> ME HEROS l THAT THE ACRID ODOR OF CANNON L( NEXT MONTH AT OUR \ SMOKE HAS LEFT TH\S COAT <J ANNULE PICNIC 018 TH' \ OF COURSE,! HAD THE SEVERAL. { } EXALTED PRINCES OB TH ( -BULLET AND SHRAPNEL HOLES IN IT GOLDEN CHARIOT c ..—. ——i

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

( jUsEASOM. THE REIGN OF TERROR -=- “ vl- '"■ , ■ —* J

SALESMAN SAM

'A'S 6AGV TO <svie/ss COW'/ DUTV CAM uJIM HER ONER.— > KvTtV'S SORE and OOGH'T OMCE. I GELT UWOeR. HER. eee —i didn't* write, , yiiNDoual ALU THE TIME I ulfts ftulfW- -

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

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“I went to England, supposedly a Red spy. It was the first time I had seen my native land since I left it for India as a small girl. In London I learned of my father’s death in the Afghan war. Both my brothers were overseas in the King's service. My only other relative was cratchety Aunt Canby, now quite infirm. She seemed glad to see me, though. K

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

joirr WELL,THERE's SOtteA l UJAHTVOU to lIL, - t Kwoooi.

"... Even she knew of my ‘unholy fame’ (she called it) as a celebrated dancer. With no ties to hold me home, restless and surfeited with success, I plunged the more eagerly into the part I was destined to play in the Red war, soon coming. I had no difficulty in gaining the confidence of the British foreign office.

—By Ahern

boom they're) But m going got a IK) 15 RIGHT / pCECKLES ‘ 'TO.SEELJH 15 I HUNCH THEV'REL

OUT OUR WAY

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“Many of its personnel were old friends of father's, and I was well known to most of them. Other official doors readily opened to me, and in possession of valued facts, and under secret orders I returned to Moscow. I took the name, Olga Boresch. It was my Russian mother's, from whom 1 inherit my uark eyes and hair.

r | / NOW, OUT WITH M/fPPii) THEY'RE. KIOT ■ *4" 7SSS? £ ™ •' B /CZtp

f LOVES TViEIR ■ IMC. Wta. V.. NT. Off. |

“I made several trip 6 between the continent and England, secure now in the confidence of the Red leaders and equally valued by the high British command. So was set the stage for intrigue and espionage on my part, in Africa. In my favorite disguise, as a big game hunter, I started for the scene '\t the coming conflict and was leaving Istanbul when wav flamed forth.”

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs;

PAGE 17

—By Williams^

—By Blosser,

—By Crane

—By ::r all

—By Martin