Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 December 1936 — Page 18
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on Broadway under a producer who
~ A topic seldom attempted; people
. - ful in everything you do, in just
| Marcia. “But, believe me, it never occurred to me before as anything ~ important in our relations. I did
BY ROBERT DICKSON (1936, NEA Service, Inc.)
BEGIN HERE TODAY Marcia Canfield, daughter of wealthy Philip Canfield, meets Bruce McDougall, ertist, shortly after the mysterious disappearance of Frank Kendrick, to whom had been engaged. When shortages are found in Kendrick’s business accounts, Marcia is more shocked than . heartbroken. She realizes she was never in love with him. McDougall is attentive until Dorothy Osborn, who dislikes Marcia, leads him to believe Marcia is engaged to another man. . There is a bank holdup and police commandeer the Canfield car to follow . the bandits. The ear is wrecked and _ both Marcia and her father are injured. McDougall, driving with Dorothy, comes upon the scene and takes Marcia and her father to a hospital. Their inJuries are not serious. Later it is decided that, although Marcia's arm is in a sling, she will take part in the amateur play to be presented soon, The night of the play arrives. A New York producer attends the performance . and offers Dorothy a part in his next production. * NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT N the day following the performance of “Half-Acre in Eden,” Marcia called Dorothy Osborn early in the morning. Dor-
“othy, in her excitement. over the
windfall of a chance on Broadway, had had little sleep, nor could she lie abed this morning, and, her father having left for the train, she was still at the breakfast table with her mother when the telephone rang, “Hello, star!” Marcia greeted her. “Oh—hello, Marcia.” “Now fhat it's daylight again, aren't you excited that it wasn't all a dream?” “Yes, I am! It was so entirely unexpected that I can hardly believe it, even if I am awake. It is such a piece of luck!” “Not .luck. Burtis doesn’t produce as a pastime; he picked you because he saw you had the stuff.
. There was such a mob around you
last fight that perhaps you didn’t notice just who all were congratulating you, but if you didn’t notice mine, here they are again. I do congratulate you, and I'm awfully glad for you. Probably I'm. almost as excited as you are over it.” “Thanks, Marcia!” “And I want to ask you something. Next Saturday night, can you come to a party at my house for everybody in the play crowd? It's your party, so if Saturday night doesn’t suit, just name the night.” “My party ...?” “Your party. You're the celebrity.” “Oh, Marcial” “Well, you don't suppose I'd let you get away without a struggle, do you? Your old friends ought fo have first chance to hang on to the fringes of your fame, Where’s your
community spirit? . . . Really, will Saturday be all right?” : 8 nn 2
OROTHY was silent for a moment. There was a turmoil in her heart. At last... “Marcia, are you going to be home
- for a while?”
“All morning, at least.” “May I come over to see you?” “Why, certainly, Dorothy.” “Well—I'll be right over.” Mystified, Marcia waited before the fireplace. Within a few minutes the Osborns’ old car was in
"the driveway and Dorothy was be-
ing ushered in by ’Awkins. She did not wear the expression which one might have expected on the face of a girl who had just been told that she was to have a chance
consistently staged successful plays.
‘Marcia greeted her, gave her a chair before the fire, and waited. Dorothy was not finding it easy to begin. : “I could just have accepted your inviation withqut a word of this,” she said at last, “but somehow I want to tell you, so that I won't have your hospitality under uncertain colors. “It’s awfully good of you to care to give me a party—though I know you'd have done the same thing for any other girl in the show whom Mr. Burtis might have picked—and “especially good of you since—well, I haven't always been so sweet to you, Marcia. Did you ever wonder why?” It was a strange.topic, thought Marcia, but it was an honest topic.
seemed to prefer to let their. enmities, however open, remain unstated. “Perhaps,” she said, “I have wondered, and if so, I suppose I thought you simply didn’t like me much. |I don’t know.” 8 » ” “y THINK,” said Dorothy, *“t simplest explanation of thi I've said to you and the way I'v felt about you is just jealousy.” “Jealousy? Over what?” _ “Over everything you have and everything you are. You hav
they can be to a girl who doesn have them. You're good looking a talented ’and popular; you're grace
the way you live. And, rightly or| wrongly, I have attributed every-|
want. . . was actually pleased when he—went away, and I felt you were humiliated. I guess it never occurred to me that if I'd been engaged to him the humiliation would have been mine, and I was spared that.”
“It was humiliating,” Martha better off this way, aren't we, you and 1?” “Don’t you—oh, it’s none of my affair, but don’t you still lo7e him, Marcia?” ’ “No, I don’t, Dorothy”—again the fireside conversation with Helen Waddell came into Marcia’s mind; she was repeating what she had said then—*“and I believe I never did, really. We'd known each other all our lives and it seemed natural to el engaged. But I'm glad, terribly glad, that I didn’t marry him. Ang sill I'll regret all my life what he did, because we had been friends so long, and it's too bad to lose a friend, especially in that way.” ] 2 8 OROTHY stood up. “I feel better, having fold you all this,” she.said.- “Your invitation sort of brought the tears to my eyes, after all the .years .I've envied you and been spiteful to you. I just couldn’t accept without confessing.
. It isn’t pretty, but I
agreed, “but now—well, we're both.
It doesn’t make me proud, but I feel cleaner.”
earnestly, “because we're better friends than we would ever have
talented. I'm not. I'm ordinary. “Don’t you see, all the years you had: your notions you had aiso the talent that showed up last night, so that Mr. Burtis offered you your big chance, and made me and every one else proud we know you? You're our girl, our home town product, and we're proud of you and glad for
you. : “Dorothy, it was wonderful of you to come over. I admire you as Dorothy Osborn even more than I'll admire you when you've put Cornell in second place among the leading women of the stage” . . Dorothy started home, in the old car- that didn’t ‘mafter:now, to the old house that suddenly was dearer to her, and thought of her -parents, whose. unconcern over their mediocre finances had hitherto been a target of her contempt. Her eyes were moist again; perhaps they, in their devotion to her and to each other, had found a happier formula for life than she had ever suspected—or, suspecting, had respected.
(To Be Continued)
TO
By Gwen Wagner Daily Short Story
“ AYMOND! .Oh, Raymond!” It was Miss Halwell, the pretty drawing teacher at the orphanage, hurrying toward him across the play room. Little Raymond, who worshiped her, clumped to meet her, his clubfoot turning awkwardly in his haste. .“I have grand news!” said Miss Halwell. “A friend of mine—an artist—is coming to the orphanage on Wednesday afternoon especially to see you!” Raymond stared at her in surprise. A visitor for him! Visitors often came to the orphanage, and sometimes they adopted a child, but no one had ever taken him, because of his clubfoot. “I showed him your drawings,” said . Miss’ Halwell, “and he said that, for a 9-year-old- boy, they were excellent!” Raymond grew red with delight. To be an artist when he grew up was his ambition,
“My friend—his name is Mr. Avery—lives in a big house all alone,” continued Miss Halwell, “He wants some one to keep,him com-
he takes you?” Raymond shut his eyes for a minute, thinking how heavenly that would be. Then the thought of his clubfoot crossed his mind, and his heart sank. Miss Halwell’s friend wouldn’t want him when he saw that. Nobody did. :
LJ #n =
RA MonD lay awake a long time that night. If only he had two good feet! He wished that, when Mr. Avery came to see him, he could hide his clubfoot some way. If he could just sit still with his foot covered up. Suddenly, an idea came to him. There -was a way to hide his foot! The next afternoon, Monday, he complained of a headache. Tuesday morning, he didn’t get out of bed, claiming he was sick. The doctor came. “I can’t find anything wrong with you, son,” he said, frowning at Raymond in a puzzled way, “but if you don't feel well, maybe you'd better stay in bed for a day or two.” The next morning, Miss Halwell came to see him. “Do you think you'll feel well enough to get up this afternoon?” she asked. “Mr. Avery is coming today, you know.” - “Can't he come in here to see me?” asked Raymond. Miss Halwell knit her pretty brows. At last, she said slowly, “Yes, I suppose he can...” Raymond closed his eyes in sheer relief. If he was in bed, with his foot covered up, Miss Halwell’s friend wouldn’t know there was anything the matter with him and, before he found out, maybe he would learn to like him so well it wouldn’t matter.
HAT afternoon, Raymond drowsed off to sleep. When he awoke, there they were—Miss Halwell standing beside his bed, and her friend, a big, kingd-looking man, sitting in a chair on the other side. “He isn’t really sick,” laughed Miss Halwell. “He’s just pretending, so he can get a little extra attention!” She ruffied Raymond’s . hair, pinched his ear, and went out, leaving him alone with her friend. Mr. Avery began to talk to him, and soon, Raymond found himself telling him things—lots of things. He felt as though he were talking to an old friend. “Miss Halwell tells me you haven’t a drawing board,” said Mr. Avery, stooping and picking something up
thing to your money; I've thought that, with money, I could have and| be all that yon are.” : “I can see what you mean,” said
i
off the floor, “so I brought you one. How do you like it?”
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pany. Wouldn't it be splendid if |
ADOPT HIM
Raymond turned his face to the pillow and began to cry. It was Mrs. Peterson, the superintendent, who came for Raymond on Sunday. She didn’t like it when she sdw. he hadn't packed his things. . “Why, what's the matter?” she demanded. “Why aren't you ready? Mr. Avery is here for you.” Raymond swallowed. “There’s something Mr. Avery has to know first. Something important.” Mrs. Peterson looked at him a moment, but said nothing. Then, she took him by the hand and led him downstairs to the door of the main reception room. There she left him. Raymond stood quite still for a moment. Then, drawing a long breath, he entered the room. Mr. Avery was sitting in a big chair, reading a book. He looked up and smiled at Raymond. “Hello,” he said. “Ready to go home with me?” Raymond couldn't speak. eyes filled with tears. ] “Why, what’s the matter, son?” It came out then, the whole miserable story.
His
” ” i
“Y KNEW you'd find it out when you came to get me,” explained Raymond, “but I thought maybe, by that time, you'd like me well enough to take me anyway. I guess you won’t, though,” he quavered. “I guess nobody could like a boy who told a lie.” . Mr. Avery smiled. “But you've told the truth now,” he said, “and that’s what counts. Only you didn’t need to hide your foot, Raymond. I knew about it before I ever saw you.” Mr. Avery had known, and still he had wanted to adopt him!” “You mustn't think of your clubioot any more,” said Mr. Avery. “It won’t ever make any difference with
real people.” He stood up. Vaguely, Raymond realized there was something
strange in the way he stood up. Then, Mr. Avery began to waik across the room, and all at once, Raymond saw—saw and, with a swelling heart, felt a sudden, passionate love for Mr. Avery. Oh, they would be happy together! They'd always understand each other! For Mr. Avery had a clubfoot, too. THE END
1936, . United
Syndicate, Int.) The characters in this story are fictitious.
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Q — What is the Appalachian Trail? A—A wilderness foot trail along the crest of the mountain system generally known as the Appalachians, extending through fourteen eastern states from Katahdin in the central Maine wilderness to Mount Oglethorpe in northern Georgia. The route is about 2050 miles.
Q—When did the “Normandie” make her maiden voyage from France to the United States, and what was her average speed? A—She sailed from Le Havre, France, May 29, 1935, and arrived at Ambrose Lightship, June 8, in' the then record-breaking time: of 107 hours and 33 minutes, at an average speed of 29.68 knots.
Q—Which newspaper has the larg-
(Copyright, Feature
est, circulation in the United States? |-
A—The New York Daily News.
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