Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 16 July 1937 — Page 24

CAST OF CHARACTERS JOY—Heroine, hostess in smart tearoom. ROGER—Joy's fiance; rising young designer. ANGELA—Joy’s rival in love. DICK—Wealthy young playboy, Roger’'s rival in love.

Yesterday: Joy plans for her wedding with Roger. As she leaves the tearoom where she is hostess she is told a young man_ had asked to see her. She wondered who it was.

CHAPTER II ATURDAY: “That just shows what you can do when you have money,” Gail whispered to me this noon as Miss Diane Pegler, one of New York's richest women, entered the tearoom with her handsome nephew, Dick. “No one else would dare to wear such old-fashioned togs!” “Shush!” I whispered, going forward to meet them. Miss Pegler is one of our best customers, and exceedingly good to the girls. I was surprised to see Dick. I thought he had a job in Boston.

was at Dartmouth, but something happened. He went to Yale last fall, then started working in spring. “So it was you who asked for me vesterday?” I said to Dick, after we had exchanged greetings. “Yes. I thought perhaps you'd take pity on me and have dinner with me or see a show when my aunt was attending a party for crippled children.”

» 5

" HAT would have been nice, but I was tied up, too . . . went to an illustrated lecture with Peter.” “And how's the dear little boy?” Miss Pegler asked. “Oh, ever since he's had measles he seems to get one cold after the other. I took him to the doctor and he savs he ought to spend the summer in the country, but of course that’s out of the question.” “Why don’t you bring him up to my ccttag2 in Maine? I'd love to have you both spend the summer with me.” “That's very sweet of you, Miss Pegler, but I'm afraid I can't leave my job,” I said, and with a smile I left their table for other guests were coming in. 2 =» 2 EFORE they left, Miss Pegler told me Dick was going to work in Wall Street and would make his home with her. She seems delighted at the prospect of having him around. He's her only relative, but I'm afraid he may not be the comfort she expects. He's good-looking —very, though I don't care for blond-haired young men a swanky dresser . . . perfect manners, but . . . there's something disturbing about his eyes. His chin hasn't the firm line of Roger's. But then perhaps I'm a bit prejudiced when I compare other men with my darling. Gail and the rest of the girls are quite intrigued by him, for Dick’s his aunt's sole heir. That's catty of me! They do work hard, and many of them have no other prospects in life. He'll be rich in his own right, too, though Miss Pegler once told me a strange thing about that. Dick will not come into full pos- | session of his father's estate until he marries . . . and then only if his chosen wife is approved by the executor. How I should hate to have things romantic decided for me like that! Perhaps it's as well Roger has no near kin . .. he's made his way himself. I'm proud of him. Peter tells me that his schoolmates are all excited about going to summer camps . . . wishes he could go, too! That's out of the question . . . he’s just 7—altogether too young.

2 » ”

NGELA ROCCO came into the tearoom this afternoon with some of her Park Ave. friends. She's a stunning-looking girl , . gorgeous, big black eyes . . . cleverly made up . . . wonderful coiffure. I can hardly believe she is Rocco's daughter. Maybe she gets her looks from her mother’s side of the house. Gossip says she came of peasant stock like her husband, but died when Angela was a small girl. Roger says the old man’s terribly proud of the girl . . . well, she’s beautiful: but judging by some of the things she does I guess she’s a shrewd schemer like her father. She's made a place for herself among the sporty deb set, and Rocco encourages her to fling her money about lavishly. There, that's the story of Angela, but it wasn't Angela I was thinking about when I wrote this . . . it was Roger Wonder what it will be like when 1 can do exactly what I want to all day long—even to lie in bed till I feel like rising? I've always hated the summons of the alarm clock (I may as well throw it away . . . no, second thoughts say. “Give it to Sally” . . . she needs it). How grand it will be never to have to pace the floor again at Long's, greeting guests with a set smile. Sometimes I wonder when I leave the tearoom and passersby glance at me, if my expression’s like the famous Cheshire cat’s . . . mentioned it to Gail one day . . . she said: “No, booby, it's your gorgeous golden hair they're looking at . . . wishing they'd natural curls like you . . . and big blue eyes, too.” 1 laughed. According to Dad, my hair was never as lovely as my mother’s though it’s natural wave saves me lots of money. Well, my afternoon hour is almost over . . more anon. 2 = ® RX 7EATHER decidedly chilly in the region of my heart. Roger and I have come to the parting of the ways. It was Roger versus Peter. Peter won. Maybe I was foolish to send Roger out of my life. I know there will never be anyone like him again. We were talking things over . . . making plans for our future . . . one minute everything seemed all

He's had | rather a checkered career so far. He |

right next moment we were at loggerheads when Roger said: “Send Peter to camp . . . that’s the very thing . . . just what I suggested the other day.” “But, Roger,” I cried in alarm, “Peter's not sturdy enough now to be sent away from home.” He laughed, then caught me in his arms. “You don’t want to make a mollycoddle of him. He's a fine little chap if you don’t spoil him.” “Spoil him?” I said, and a shrill note leaped into my voice. “I would never spoil Peter; but he needs care.”

= 2 ”

vs Ell get it there. I know a fellow who's sending his sons to camp. I'll talk to him. I'm sure Peter would enjoy that sort of life. Besides he'll learn to stand on his own feet, so when he goes to boarding school in the fall, he'll be able to take care of himself.”

“Who said he was going to board- |

ing school? Ill never consent to that.” Before I realized it I was arguing furiously with my darling, though I love him so. Then Roger declared if I wouldn't listen to reason, there was nothing further to be said.

1 looked at him as I twisted my engagement ring about my finger . . . I don't love Peter more than him . . . why couldn't he understand that my love for my small brother is very different from the love I have for him? Besides Roger knows what I promised Dad and Mimi. I thought of Angela as Roger started to the door. Was there any truth to that gossip, I wondered? I drew off the ring which he had placed so tenderly on my finger a few months. ago, and handed it to him.

(To. Be Continued)

| | ANE O'DONNELL heard the short, sharp ring of the doorbell 'and smiled with delight. “That,” | she said, putting her hair nervously jinto place, “will be Tommie Dad, do I look all right?” | ‘You look fine, honey, fine.” Mr. O'Donnell lied gently. “Have you told Tom about the operation yet?” Jane shook her head. “I'm not going to until it’s all over and we're sure it’s a success. I couldn't bear to have him disappointed again.” “See here, young lady,” Mr. O'Donnell rattled his newspaper emphatically. “Dr. Jeffries has studied for years in Vienna and he says you have a 50-50 chance. You're not going to New York tomorrow with the idea that this may fail, too. It just won't, that's all! And as for Tommie being disappointed—" Mr. O'Donnell’s last remark was cut short by a second, more insistent ring. Jane could hear her father snorting his disapproval as he started for the door. Instinctively her hand went to the bandage which she had worn across her eyes, and in spite of herself she shuddered. Ever since her third year in college, when an auto accident resulted in the total loss of her sight, Jane had been enveloped by a feeling of utter loneliness. When doctor after doctor had pronounced her case in-

“I'm tall, dark and handsome”

curable, Jane had begun to feel that she was a burden to her family and most of all to Tommie, to whom she was engaged. Tonight as she heard his familiar step entering the room she turned toward him with a smile. “Hello, Tom,” she said eagerly. “Hello, Jane.” Tommie’s voice was flat, a little tired, Jane thought. “Your father tells us you're going away tomorrow.”

= = 5

UDDENLY Jane wanted to tell him the truth—to tell him that one of New York's eminent surgeons had all but promised her eyesight back after three months of treatment and an operation. But an insistent little voice within her asked: “What if it doesn’t turn out all right?” Tommie was waiting for an answer. “Yes, I'm going ‘o visit Aunt Kate in New York for a while. Mother thinks the change will be good for me.” Tommie seemed pleased. “Fine, fine, it'll be the best thing in the world for you. Say, Jane,” he went on, “I know I shouldn't rush off like this, but Joe Lambert has some tickets for ‘Lady Luck’ tonight and I told him Id go. I'll write you soon, though.” . Jane didn't hear the door of her hospital room open, and it was not until she heard a voice boom close beside her that she realized she was not alone. “So this is Jane O'Donnell!” the voice exclaimed. “Who—who is it?” haltingly. “I am Dr. Peter J. Carrigan, assistant to Dr. Jeffries, calied by my intimates 'P. J.” explained the voice with mock gravity, “and Dr. Jeffries tells me that you are to be my special charge. Just so we'll be on even terms, I'll describe myself,” the newcomer went on, ignoring Jane's evident surprise. “I'm tall, dark and handsome, and I've been informed that I own the most dilapidated fedora east of 45th street.” Carrigan placed the hat in Jane’s

Jane asked

‘| hands so that she might verify the

In spite of herself, Jane tear-stained

statement. smiled, a tremulous, smile. » ” ” HAT was the first time Jane met Carrigan. In the weeks that followed, not a day passed that he didn’t come to her room for a visit with his “little charge.” Jane did not feel handicapped or ill at ease with her visitor. Rather, for the

Daily Short Story

| PROPOSAL—By Al Denny

a sense of companionship which quite dispelled the old loneliness. They discovered a mutual fondness for symphonic music. The following day Carrigan arrived with a portable victrola and records of Jane's favorite composers. She next gave him the task of reading her mail from home. I was then he first heard about Tommie. Tommie had sent the letter to her home, knowing it would be forwarded.

“What does he say?” she inquired eagerly when Carrigan announced that the long-awaited letter had arrived. Carrigan eyed her carefully. She was thrilling with the expectancy of it all. A letter from Tommie, at last. He tore it open, started to read, paused, stumbled rather awkwardly, but went on. “The writings rather hard to figure out in places,” he apologized.

It was a sweet letter; just the kind Jane had hoped for. It tecld her all the things that Tommie, of late, had neglected to say in so many words. More letters arrived after that, and Carrigan read them all. One afternoon, about two months after Jane's arrival at the hospital, Carrigan dropped in quite unexpectedly. His voice was a pleasant break in the stillness. “I met Jeffries down the hall and he says he'll be able to operate a lot sooner than he expected—about another week or so.” “Oh, Pete, I'm so glad!”

» = zn

“ JANE,” Pete's voice was unusually serious, “I'li miss not coming up here when you've gone.” Taking one of Jane's slim hands in his own he went on, “I don’t suppose this is the time to bring it up, but I've been trying to say it for the last two months—I—uh—would you consider becoming Mrs. Peter Carrigan sometime in the near future?” N “Pete, I don't . . Tommie.” “Do you love him, Jane?” Jane nodded. “Well, that settles that. wanted you to know” There was an awkward silence. Jane cast about for something to relieve the tension. “Well, Pete, she said, attempting to be casual, “when do you think youll buy yourself a new hat?” “I won't buy a new hat till I get a new girl,” he said, and before Jane could say a word, he was gone. The first thing that Jane said to Tommie when she arrived home was “Your letters were the sweetest that any girl ever received.” And he had stood there, dumbfounded, wondering. “I wrote only one letter,” he said. “And I thought it explained everything.” Explained everything? And then her little world crashed.

= » =

ATER that evening the switchboard operator at Zt. Mary's Hospital was talking to one of the nurses. “I had a long distance call from Chicago tonight and who do you think it was?” “Santa Claus,” offered the bored listener. The operator ignored the remark. “It was little Jane O'Donnell who was up in 317 so long. She askad to speak to Pete Carrigan and she sounded kind of excited so I listened in. What she said made Pete shriek with joy, but I still don’t understand why. With her voice very trembly she said, “Pete, have you still got your old brown hat?”

THE END

{Copyright, 1937. United Feature Syndicate] The characters in this story are fictitions

But I

Municipal government has become the tail to the national party kite. The way out is the city man= wer form.—Prof. A. R. Hatton, political scientist.

Worry is to the mind what bread is to the diet. Trouble is a part of iife and the conquest of trouble is the secret of human progress.—Dr. David Seabury, author.

There is a growing belief that our universities will gain rather than lose by adopting a less costly and pretentious scale of doing things-— Frederick P. Keppel, president, Carnegie Corp.

Certainly the rise of the Nazis is directly connected with the inequitable treatment accorded Germany by the Versailles Treaty and the postwar period—Dr. Frank Kingdon, president, University of Newark.

I'm just a family man at heart.—

first time since her accident, she felt

John Barrymore, four times divoreed.

It’s the “refreshing”

thing to do— DRINK

. you see, there's

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RIDER'S CRAMP

LI'L ABNER

YO’ MEANS T'SAY YO GENNUL:

BUT-AH WARNS YO’-~ THEY IS SO UNCOMF ‘TABLE

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FRIDAY, JULY 16, 1037

FLAPPER FANNY By Sylvia

“Nothing scems to worry some people.”

“And it worries others terribly.”

—By Al Capp

Yr). EAVES US DEADLOCKED WORSE. THAN EVER: BUT-- \& I'LL TAKE EMSEE EeltEy ATE FHOUSAND? 7

NDE THOUSAN, BOLLAMS

YIPPAY.-

DOGPATCH-YO' IS SAVEDS

SALANCE , AL -#100,000 --ROLL-#100,000 WELL, EVERYTHING SONS FINE-

—By Blosser

ABBIE AN’ SLATS

THAT WAS ONLY ONE POCKET... AND BOYS, IM WEARING | THREE PAIRS OF PANTS ! LOOK!

YES YOUR WALLET FELL OUT OF YOUR POCKET WHEN ‘You WERE ASLEEP, AND WE COUNTED Your MONEY !!

TT TERA NAL E00 LC

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* Q—What is the educational status of the average American?

A—The U. 8. Office of Education says that although the population of the United States probably is the best educated national group, the median education in 1934 was only completion of elementary school. The superior education of the population is due to the fact that about 3 per cent are college graduates; 7 per cent attended some college; 14 per cent gradu-

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their education beyond that point, and 33 per cent of the adult popula= tion have at least entered high school.

Q—When did the families that comprise the Matanuska Rural Rehabilitation Colony in Alaska first arrive at«the colony and from what states did they come? A—They were farm families from the relief rolls in Minnesota, Michi= gan, and Wisconsin, They arrived at their destination on May 10, 1835.

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BEAR IT

WH WHY?” WHE v AR YOU GOING?

No y.10

“I'll be a mess if business doesn’t pick up soon—here’s

another wrinkle from worry.

blow out while I am driving an automobile, in which direction would the car tend to swerve and what should I do?

A-The car would tend to swerve to the left. The correct procedure would be to leave the clutch in, ap ply the brakes gently and turn the front wheels slightly to the right.

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“Gold Star Mother” and “Silver Star Mother.” A--The gold star is for one whose son died in action or whose death occurred as a direct result of active service during the World War, up to July 31, 1821. After that date if the veteran died or was permanently disabled, his mother is entitled to receive the silver star.

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