Indianapolis Times, Volume 48, Number 30, Indianapolis, Marion County, 15 April 1936 — Page 21

ATOIL 15, 193<5_

Today'B Short Story HER SECRET By Emily Calvin Blake

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SHE knew her cousin Jim meant to he kind when he assumed responsibility for her room and board in Mrs. Matson’s quiet and refined house, tucked away on a side street In her native city. In addition he allowed her an amount equal to about one-fourth of her salary during the many years she had worked for him as a bookkeeper in his wholesale furniture warehouse. This sum he mailed to her every week. But the truth was that, even at 60, she still felt competent to keep on at her job. And she had been happy in her old rooms in a not so exclusive a street, but where the other boarders were spontaneous and friendly. She wondered if Jim had discovered the secret she had tried so hard to conceal. Perhaps that was why he had decided to “pension” her oil as he called really her discharge from his services. But she had been so careful, how could he guess! a it u THE room she occupied on the second floor back at Mrs. Matson's was very comfortably equipped but she didn’t enjoy its prim orderliness. She didn’t like the modern manner in which persons in this house went their own way completely uninterested in you and your affairs. Why the first night when hesitantly because she was shy, she had gone downstairs to dinner, and after she had been ushered to a table for five up near the big window, no one had spoken after the brief note acknowledging Mrs. Matson’s instructions. At one end of the table a Mrs. Maclntyre sat so that she looked at her fellow guests from a position of advantage. She spoke in a booming voice whose echoes ranged the room. After an interval, she turned to the newcomer, “May I trouble you for the salt, Miss Owens?” she inquired. “Certainly,” Miss Owens answered and venturing: “It has been a warm day for February, wouldn’t you say, Mrs. Maclntyre,” she said to this autocratic woman. More than anything in the world, she would have liked Mrs. Maclntyre for a friend. it it BUT Mrs. Maclntyre was done with her. She deigned no reply, but applied herself definitely to her slice of roast beef. This indifference hurt Miss Owens too deeply. Although she really could not blame this other for not wanting to bother with so colorless a creature as herself. They met scarcely ever during the day, Mrs. Maclntyre avoiding all company. Glimpses could be had of her as she sat in her second floor front room, door slightly ajar, knitting, everlastingly knitting bright yarns into sweaters. And once a week her son’s wife called for her in a very nice, shiny automobile and took her riding. She repeated, perhaps for Miss Owens’ benefit, that she had lived in her son's home for several years, ever since she had been a widow, while her grandchildren, r, boy and a girl, were growing up. But suddenly she knew she was tired of the noise of young folks, tired of being at the beck and call of every one in that home and had chosen to pack her belongings and come to reside here. Miss Owens’ admiration for this independent woman increased. For in her own heart she knew she would never have left such a home. tt tt u WITH strange, new tenacity, Miss Owens made up her mind she would break down the barriers. Her heart lost a beat as she imagined Mrs. Maclntyre asking her into that front room some afternoon and teaching her how to knit. In her many office years, she had never found time to learn. But it seemed hopeless. Mrs. MacIntyre remained an aloof queen. One night Jim came carrying a package, a gift no doubt, as was his custom. He was a sort of second cousin, or so they had figured out long ago. Jim was a large man, some years younger than Miss Owens, and very good natured. They sat together on the divan in the parlor and save for two or three of the boarders drifting in and looking in the bookcase, or fingering magazines on the center table, they were alone. “Well, Kathie, getting acclimated?” he began. “It’s very nice here, Jim.” a a a HE seemed to find something in her voice a little touching. He leaned nearer: “You know, Kathie, If I were situated so I could. I’d give you a home with me, let you run it. But since Gertie died I’ve lived at the club.” • T understand, Jim. Don’t worry about me.” Then the difficulty came out: “It's just that I don’t make friends very easily.” Now he smiled and she was afraid, but he didn’t bring up anything of the past. Instead: “I know your trouble. Kathie: known it quite a while, though you were always so touchy about it.” She stiffened, but he began unwrapping the parcel as he talked. “See, Kathie, the very latest In an ear phone.” don’t need it; I don’t want It." time hadn't really believed he had guessed her secret, but now he was shouting It to the hilltops. “I don’t see why you think I could use such ft thing." *.■ ■ ■

“Don’t keep on trying to hide away like an ostrich. I’ve known you were hard of hearing all the time; so did everybody else in the office.” a a a “TT’S just a slight deafness in my A right ear,” she said; “I hear perfectly, or nearly so, in my left.” “Sure. But you use this ear contraption and you’ll hear as well as any one; make friends, too.” He went on giving her directions wh le she gazed about in dismay lest a straying guest might catch a word. Mrs. Matson caught her on her way upstairs. “Oh, Miss Owe.is,” she cried, “have you heard of the gatherings we hold in the parlor every month. Just ourselves, you know; music by someone I invite in; refreshments. Wouldn’t you like to come? Next Thursday night.” Miss Owens expressed her willingness to attend, pressing the little package she held closer to her side. She went swiftly up the stairs and closed her door tight. On Thursday evening, Mrs. Matson lit the sparkling chandelier in the parlor and put vases of flowers on the high marble mantle; set chairs about in half circles. Miss Owens came early so she could find a place near the piano.She wanted not to miss a note, she loved music so. She saw though that already present was Mrs. MacIntyre engaged in turning the pages of a book. a a a MRS. MacINTYRE looked regal. She wore a purple silk dress with a high-boned collar. She, too, was seated in the front row of chairs, but at the very end.' She glanced up when Miss Owens entered. greeted her shortly and went on with her book. No invitation to take a seat near her; no friendly smile. And so the two sat in this isolation till others began to arrive. At last there was a mild chatter of voices. Then the young musician appeared; a niece she was of Mrs. Matson’s. In time she settled herself at the piano. She not only played well, but she sang, sweetly enough to bring tears to the eyes of some of her listeners. “O Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms” recalled the memory of someone who had sung that line to her when the future had seemed to promise only joy. But the singer was gone, vanished into the shadows, and she had traveled her long, often weary way alone. The young musician at the last sang an old lullaby . . . “Hush My Baby, Dream Land Calls” . . . Movingly done, but the rendition apparently did not please Mrs. MacIntyre, who having sat through the program, starring straight before her, abruptly rose and walked out of the room. a a a THE party over, Mrs. Owens stood in her own room thinking of the music which she had been able to hear quite plainly. There might have been some tones that escaped her, in her heart she was sure there had been, but the evening had been very satisfying. Leaving her door wide that she might catch any remaining sounds of gayety downstairs, she heard too distinctly for comfort, a heartbreaking sob, coming from that front room. She did not wait but was down the hall and gazing through a halfopened door upon Mrs. Maclntyre who lay upon her bed, quite abandoned to the sorrow that had caused that bitter sob to burst forth. She lay there, her body shaking, all the courage, all the high pride gone. At her feet lay her knitting, the yarn pulled away from the needles. Mrs. Owens went toward the bed and laid a hand on the shaking shoulders ... “I wonder if there is any w*ay I can help?” she asked. Immediately Mrs. Maclntyre stood up. The purple dress was crushed, the high lace collar loosened, but her dignity was returning. “I didn’t hear your knock,” she reproved. “You didn’t shut your door tight. I wish I could do something.” a a a THE flood broke again . . “It was that lullaby . . You’ve never had a son whose children you loved and sang to when they were babies; never been made to feel later on as they were growing up that your ideas were old fashioned . . .'and hurting. Shunted off at last to a place by yourself and crumbs thrown at you once a week. Never known yourself to be a nuisance because you were deaf ” “Deaf!” Miss Owens repeated. “Is that why you didn’t answer me when I spoke to you at the dinner table; why you never even looked my way?” “Well, you set on my wrong side.” “11l ask to be changed.” Then: “I have no one in the world but a sort of second cousin, but I can understand Just how you feel. What it must mean to you that you’re not considered useful any more.” And with full courage now: “I’m deaf, too.” “And been put in your place, too. I’ll warrant,” Mrs. Maclntyre said after a moment. “Well it seems we can be friends on more than one score.” “Yes, we can,” Miss Owens answered, happier than she had been for some time; “and maybe we’ll find some things to do together that’ll be pleasant and maybe useful too.” THE END. 1

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

V\OST CERTAINLV / AMD, MOMEylf I X>WAS <3\VEM TO X vF E6A*d[ iMs UNLESS VOLi CAM EXPLAIM A -pOR ROOM k y ou HOW YOU CAME "BY TUI'S AklD "BOARD, BY f-fHB LAW |f HOT SWACIWE WILL HAVE } A COUPLE M IS (30!MG js TO HOLD YOU/AS WELL, a MASQUERADIMcS B)M- IW MOMEY IJT AS MjXSO'R HOOPLA *y? 1 MIGHT HAVE WLNOW(sj 'ER-O -THEY were phony l 1 MAR- ) tiUmjf&g; WMSm HOOPLES WHEM THEY PM 1 J-W)lWWwy>i ,

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

THROW DOWN YER GUNS! •) my goshWeßE’sV behind ER THE ? THERE'LL BE NO JAIL DELIVERY JT 5 LULU / SHE AT?/ THAT W 1 x WHILE VkK SHERIFF. BELLEBARREL, j NO FEMALE SHERIFF'S GOIN'TO

ALLEY OOP

aC'MON, MEN - STEP ON IT/ J > |

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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THE TARZAN TWINS

“ fs erst tSZST *"'Y. A TL _| w-'av UNITED FEATURE * * UPXbM

As the four intended victims of the cannibals were making their last stand, Dick suddenly exclaimed: “Golly! Here come a million more of the beggars!” Sure enough, from the forest, with plumes waving, came a veritable horde of mighty warriors, savage and grim.

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES’

“They not Bagalla!” shouted Ukundo, weeping for joy; “they Waziri, faithful warriors of Tarzan, mighty Lord of the Jungle.” Tarzans Waziri! The boys were speechless with wonder and delight. The Waziri were coming to save them—but Tarzan, alas, was not there.

With Major Hoople

OUT OUR WAY

ifTTiTWTS 1 / A BUGY GROCERY IVAN STOPS \ / WELL, IT \> ¥hl \’iy\ r all HIS BUSINESS, LOMG \ / AINT POLITE \ 'I ( ENOUGH TO GO AN'GET SIX I TO LOOK A \ V (1 A /’ SAMPLE PACKAGES OF SOAP I GIFT MORSE j C V {J r AND GIVE THEM TO YOU, AN'YOU J V IN TM’ / y' A Sy<\ don't see anything in it-th' J \ mouth J ii&X'lBV \ \ HINT, TH' SIGNIFICANCE.TH' r— -* V MEAN IN', TH' DIG, TM' \' T'\ \SUGGESTION--TU* j / . fmwr Sj-n.-jp-L J a /

TWE.IvS HE. VOFvG AM A~l 'SMOGTLV I OH ,HOUO VNHO o\m'T H\G HFX L QtCWON <g>OT TO \ A OM a A\sV KiO NO HAQM \N 1 \NG Y\\eTAYE.VWES YHANE H\o \<E.T:9\lG' J r OOT ALOKXb TH'COAST , VOYVtM OPtKi __J Vs TH’ GO\W G>OT TOO V\OT FE.9. HWI AN’ TH' STOQ.V GO’E.S , THESES A x BOP\'tD ON MOST OF W&jg&kf* I ff f THE ISLANDS \N 1

At sight of Tarzan's company, the ranks of the Bagalla were thrown into confusion. They forgot their prey and thought only of escape. Like frightened rabbits they scurried for the jungle, pursued by the Waziri warriors, who showered arrows and spears among them.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“We’re saved! We're saved! I can hardly believe it,” exclaimed Dick joyously. At that moment, the two boys were seized suddenly and simultaneously from behind in vise-like grips. Each looked down and saw himself encircled by beastly, terrifying, hairy arms!

COMIC PAG*

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crano

—By Hamlin

—By Martin