Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 July 1937 — Page 14

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CAST OF CHARACTERS JOY-Heroine, hostess in smart Maine tearoom. ROGER~Joy's flance; rising young designer, ANGELA-Joy’s rival in love. DICK—Wealthy young playboy, er's rival in love,

Rog-

Yesterday: The summer resort mystery deepens when Joy learns that a truck motored up to the haunted house at night,

CHAPTER NINE EDNESDAY: More excitement today, though I haven't been able to put two and two together concerning Dick and Jigger. However, as the kids say when they

play one of their guessing games,

“I'm getting warmer.” A terrific thunderstorm just as lunch was almost over . . passing motorists rushed to cover in The Golden Anchor, for the road is lined with enormous trees, and if one of those hemlocks should ever be struck by lightning it would be Just too bad for anyone on the road. I hustled around, helping the girls to clearup the tables . .. was more than surprised when I saw Jigger seated at a small alcove table—-he was dressed in approved country clothes—and glancing out into the courtyard I recognized his car, the one he'd driven over the Queensborough Bridge. Another man was with him, and of all people, Rocco! Standing near their table, “directing traffic” as Peter calls it when he sees me finding places for new arrivals, I heard Rocco say. ” » 8 o" OU’'RE all wet . .. it can't be.” | “All wet? Nothing! Thal's the guy, there!” Following Jigger's glance I saw | his gaze was on Dick. “I'll prove it to you right now,” | and the angry man started up from | his chair. “Now, don’t start anything here,” said Rocco, and he laid a powerful | arm on Jigger's. hood’s not any too healthy for us| just now. Besides, you're making a | mistake . . . a swell guy like that ain't interesting himself in your propositions.” “Just then a crowd of the younger set burst into the room. “Hullo, Dick Pegler! What luck to find you here,” and they flocked about him. I glanced quickly towards Jigger's table. Rocco seemed embarrassed his saturnine-faced friend triumphant. Instinctively I felt Jigger's recognition of Dick had some significance; and when Dick left the tearoom, barely recognizing me as he hurried to his car, I felt vaguely disturbed. I saw the men watch him go . . . then talk for a few minutes, rise and leave the tearoom.

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ATER in the afternoon Miss / Pegler rushed up to me, threw her arms about me (I was glad the tearoom was empty) and said: “I'm delighted you're going to marry Dick. It will almost be like having a daughter of my own. I hope you'll both be very happy.” For a moment I, felt a little compunction about the step 1 was going to take (of course, I guess we can make a go of it, even if I don’t love him), then I said, “I'll try to make him happy.” “I know you will, I've just been talking things over wih Dick . . . told him that newlyweds ' should start by themselves so I'm putting in my bid for Peter right now. Won't you let him come and stay with me?” “That's terribly kind of you, but I haven't got the length of thinking about our living arrangements yet.’ Miss Pegler smiled. “Of course not. but Dick wants to take ‘you for a year's trip around the world so I think such an arrangement about Peter would work out all right.”

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THER guests appeared, so that ended our conversation. Thursday: Never got another word written last night . . . heard Peter crying . . . rushed to his room .. . he was sitting up in bed, sobbing with fright . . . it's the second time he’s done this . .. tried to quiet him . . . finally got him asleep after he told me Dick had given him a big box of chocolates when he promised he would not tell about something he had seen from the tower of his camp. Sobbed as he whispered he hadn't even told Roger when he met him on the shore . . . evidently Peter informed him he'd rather have him marry me than Dick. Wonder now if the whole thing was just a childish nightmare or if there is any truth to his story that Roger said he wished he was going to marry me . . . but of course that's out. Rain came down in sheets last night, s6 Dick telephoned and called off our date. Was surprised he agreed so enthusiastically with me . . . usually makes quite a fuss if I want to break a date . . . can't help wondering if he has other plans for tonight. Isn't that a terrible way to write about the man whose name I'm soon to share? Oh, I wonder if I'm going to make a mistake marrying him?

15 almost forgotten to make a note of the meeting in the tearoom when summer residents all signed a petition to have an investigation made about Serene Shores . . . it's to be handed to the Township Committee for all the exclusive families are up in arms at the thought it may be a rendezvous for undesirables, though outwardly bears the resemblance of a high-class summer resort, and Peter informs me, Cal tells me too, that Roger is holidaying there. Wonder if Dick knows anything about the place . . . why didn't I think of asking him about it? Walked over to Miss Pegler's in the forenoon with a book Mrs. Fenwick was lending her . . . maid said Miss Pegler was busy . . . would I care to wait outdoors or in . . .

decided T'd sit on her porch . ..

soon I heard voices . . . didn’t pay much attention to them, for I'd picked up a magazine . . . then I realized I was eavesdropping when Miss Pegler said: ” » » * H, Mr. Hall, you can’t mean that . . . Dick would never Let mixed up in such an affair . . . I'm sure that can’t be so.” “I'm very sorry, Miss Pegler, but it's true. Dick's been in hot water |ever since he went to college . . perhaps it might have been better had I gone into details with you before now, but as your lawyer I wished to save you from unnec-

| essary worries.” broke |

“But Dick's just engaged to a charming girl . . . perhaps if they were married right away, and he got 8 fresh start somewhere else | . .\" “Well, if the voung fellow really cares for the girl, and if we can fix this business in time, though 1 doudt it." As the lawyer paused I realized what 1 was doing, listening to a conversation I was not supposed to war... . I tiptoed from the porch, passing the maid cutting flowers, told her I'd see Miss Pegler again . . she needn't mention I'd called walked quickly towards The Anchor,

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Golden

UT at every step I took I wondered about the trouble Dick was in... it was strange I didn’t see him around . . . stranger still he hadn't been at the teahouse for his morning game of tennis . . . perhaps after all there was something to what Peter had said . .. but if he had promised Dick he wouldn't tell, I would never dream of trying to force his confidence and make him break his promise. Cal hailed me when I passed the isahouse. “Well, what is it, Cal?” I asked, seating myself on a boulder, for when Cal starts any of his stories you may as well make up your mind it's going to be some time before he reaches the end. “I've got some news for you,” he said, throwing a couple of sacks over thes ice in the station wagon. “Yes, sirrde, those men you told me about . . . the ones you sent to Serene Shores ain't the usual run of summer visitors . . . they're in cahoots with the police , . . saw them talking to Constable Tuttle this morning right in his garden.” I laughed. Cal's imagination was | surely working overtime . . . prob- | ably they were asking the way to | some place nearby. I jumped up as | I said so. Then Cal whispered, “Eb | Tuttle says they're Secret Service | men,”

{ (To Be Continued)

Daily Short Story

- HAPPY ENDING —By Joseph Daws

JOB at last! True, not much) of a position for a man of his ability, but at least it would enable him to eat regularly and to concen- | trate on his literary ambitions. He had known the pangs of hunger |

“This neighbor- | many times and in many lands dur- | a tidy sum. This would be a real

ing his 30 years, and he was proud

of those experiences—glad that he | had never asked for, or accepted, aid from his “plutocratic” family. They didn’t understand him—no one understood him. In a word, Jim Blake was one of those people for whom the world offers no niche. He was preparing to meet his English class at the new adult college for the second time since school had started. As he brushed his coat and noticed the frayed cuffs he felt a twinge of annoyance, not because he was ashamed of his poverty, but because he had been conscious of it at all. These things were negligible. There were so many more important matters to demand attention, big things like the novel he was writing and the magazine stories he planned to turn out—literary gems, all of them.

Walking the two blocks to the | building that housed the educational project, Jim meditated on the students in his class. There was Miss Smith, the brilliant one, so like himself in her high ambition, There was Miss Moret—he got no farther in his meditation than Miss Moret. She, alas, was a very beautiful girl, but without taste for the truly sublime in literature. She lacked ideals; that was it. LJ o =

UT he felt strangely disturbed when he thought of Miss Moret definitely as not out for fine literature; put her eyes were blue, a very deep blue, and her hair was gold, a very brilliant gold. Ah well, he had reached the school building before he realized it.

“I have,” he informed them later, “spent several valuable hours wading through these—!" He tapped the small pile of manuscripts in front of him impatiently, “Of course I realize that this is a beginner’s class, but I must say I was disappointed in you!” One of the young women, a thin, bespectacled, birdlike person, nodded her head in vigorous agreement. “But, Mr. Blake, you must give us time to absorb your ideas.” Jim turned to the undernourished one. “I was about to add, Miss Smith, that yours was the only promising one. I really believe you have the divine spark.”

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ISS SMITH beamed, but the girl at the end of the table, who had been contemplating Jim through long, luxuriant lashes, hastily raised a square of linen to smother a cough. Jim glared at her. ‘During the last week she had been a source of constant annoyance to him with her calmly superior air and trim, well-dressed beauty. He felt self-conscious under her scrutiny, most unusual for Jim, who had been every place and done everything. What could this hothouse flower know of the world's sordidness? : “Miss Moret,” he said gruffly, “this is a class in literature and literary writing. We do not tolerate trash. We write for art's sake. We aim only for publications of discrimination.” “Art,” said Miss Moret in a soft, drawling voice, “is, after all, that which people enjoy.” “All my life I have been a stanch defender of the underdog,” he told her sternly. “The suffering of the poorer classes rends my very soul. But they must be taught to appreciate literature, and this can only be done by giving them stories of merit—not trash. Now when I was in—" and Jim was off on a tale that lasted until the end of the period. Then, one morning, Jim actually smiled at his class. Even the antagonistic Alicia Moret was included in his gesture of benevolence, but she hastily lowered her eyes.

“yg HAVE good news for you,” he told them. “Literature magazine is giving a prize contest. I will pass around the list of prizes. It will be very much worth while to enter our best stories. We will

| Smith, “beautiful!

this hand.

mit with you.” His announcement was met with enthusiasm. Jim, sure of the first prize, even though he had never sold a story, felt that one of the girls, probably Miss Smith, could win the second,

start for him at last, and would put Alicia Moret in her place. Ten weeks later Jim laid aside the sheaf of papers he had been reading aloud. “That,” he said, “is the story I am submitting to the Literature magazine.” “It was beautiful,” gurgled Miss I saw the tortured Arab dying under the torrid sun. I suffered with him.” She sighed. “I'm afraid my own poor attempt will have no chance now. No chance at all!”

” ” »

IM turned to Alicia. “Are you submitting anything to the contest, Miss Moret?”

“Yes. I may as well try, I guess.” “I admire your courage and your determination, but I must warn you not to be disappointed. Literature is a quality market—" “And my work is not art,” she finished for him, her eyes twinkling,

“You have been too sheltered all your life to write well, Miss Moret. To write one must live—one must suf—" But the bell had rung. The last faint rays of the sun shone through the schoolroom windows upon Jim's bent shoulders. Before him lay a manuscript and on top of it a small square of printed paper bearing the legend, “Sorry. Try again.” The building was deserted, and with the feeling of disappointment and loneliness that surged over Jim came a stronger feeling of futility. His best work—his greatest hope— blasted by the stroke of a pencil. Jim ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and a sob shook his body. He did not hear the soft footsteps behind him, but started violently at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. ” ” ”

“« H, you,” he said, glancing up at the graceful figure of Alicia Moret. “I—I've a bit of a cold— been sniffling.” “Why don’t you ever face life squarely?” He jerked away as her words stung him. “You—" “Yes, I. Just because I don't go about in rags bemoaning my fate, you assume my life is a sheltered bed of roses. You've hated me because you didn't know me—didn't dare—" “All right,” fiercely “I didn’t dare! Now laugh. Go ahead and laugh. Here's my rejettion slip— the end of my hopes. You can laugh at that too.” Her tinkling laugh was soft, but there was a tear in its merriment. Suddenly she reached out and found “Poor boy, I'll have to teach you. I'll have to help you get rid of your distorted ideas.” “You mean—?" “Jim, remember how you made fun of the ‘sappy happy endings’ of my stories? Well, I—I heard from the magazine today too. And it wasn't a rejection slip.” “You won? Swell of you not to rub it in.” “You see, Jim, happy endings aren't so happy, and they do happen in real life. I'll prove that to you.”

THE END. (Copyright, 1937, United Feature Syndicate) The characters in this story are fictitious

Federal minimum-wage and max-imum-hour legislation would do much to establish equilibrium in industry and business.—Gov. Herbert Lehman, New York.

Enduring peace and the welfare of the nations are indissolubly connected with friendliness, fairness, oquality, and the maximum practicable degree of freedom in international economic relations.—Secretary of State Hull,

The decisions will slow up the drive behind the Court reorganization bill.—U. S. Senator Thomas Connally, Texas, referring to the Supreme Court's ruling on the Wag-

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By Williams

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FLAPPER FANNY

SATURDAY, JULY 24, 1937 By Sylvia

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ASK THE TIMES

Inclose a 3-cent stamp for reply when addressing any _question of fact or information to The Indianapolis Times Washington Service Bureau, 1013 13th St, N. W.,, Washington, D. C. Legal and medical advice cannot be given, nor can extended research be undertaken.

Q—Why does lightning have a tendency at certain-intervals to dim the lights in a house? A—Lightning sometimes imposes overvoltages on overhead lines which are discharged to ground through lightning arresters, or may be discharged by breakdown of insulation to ground. Such discharges are followed to a greater or less extent by the power current of the system, which causes short circuits. When these short circuits are of short duration they absorb a large amount of power long enough to cause lights to dim. If the duration is sufficiently long, the line is cut off from the source of power by circuit breakers which operate automatically,

Q—When and where will the 1937 Army-Navy football game be played? A—Nov. 27, in Philadelphia.

Q—Do all transport airplanes have radio direction finders? A—No; but a new regulation of the Bureau of Air Commerce requires all transport planes to be equipped with them by Jan. 1, 1938.

Q—I am collecting postmarks. How can I get covers from certain cities where I have no acquaint ance? A—Send a letter addressed to The Postmaster, with the name of the city and state, inclosing a selfaddressed and stamped envelope and ask him to return it to you for your collection. + Q—At what points on a clock are the hands exactly over each other?

work only on these. I, too, will sub-

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5 5-11 minutes for each hour, as 5 5-11 minutes past 1, 10 10-11 minutes past 2, ete. Q—What proportion of the children who start in high schools graduate? A—A little more than one-half in the public high schools, Q—What is the recipe for dry martini cocktails?

A—Beginning at 12 o'clock add A-—Two parts dry gin, 1 part

French vermouth, 8 dashes Angostura bitters per cocktail. Squeeze a piece of lemon peel on top and serve with an olive. @—Who played the role of “Barbara” in the motion picture, “Maytime,” and how old is she? A-Lynne Carver. She was born in Lexington, Ky., Sept. 13, 1916. Un-

THE OUTSIDE OF IT IS IBE™ STREET AND SNYDER AVENUE NEW YORK CFTY .... AND THE INSIDE OF IT IS

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