Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 31 July 1937 — Page 14

| PAGE 14

CAST OF CHARACTERS JUDITH IRVING, heroine, America’s best-dressed woman. PHILIP IRVING, husband. MARTA ROGERS, Judith’s rival. BRUCE KNIGHT, author, Judith's old classmate. MILLICENT BAYNE, Bruce's protege.

Judith's estranged

Yesterday—Fearfully certain that Phil is in love with Marta, Judith proposes a week-end at Phil's lodge to talk things over. But words will not come to voice “that something.”

CHAPTER THREE

HIL put down a magazine which he had picked up casually, as Judith paused. She noticed that his eyes had been resting on a picture of her, clothed in purple crepe paJamas, lounging on a davenport in their sun room. Odd, she thought, that she should be wearing those pajamas now. ’ She could not mention Marta’s name to Phil, though he had given her an opening. He himself went on. “Judy, what's happened to me?” He raised his voice. “What's happened? You ought to know? You're a woman! You're my wife! It’s your business to know.” “Tell me about it.” She dropped down on a hassock at his feet. The mood passed. “You'll think I'm an ass. I'm not certain of myself, my feeling, of anything any more. you. Judy. Judy—" She remembered a favorite little brother who had come to her when their father had been drunk and unkind long ago, as she met the puzzled blue eyes. Life was being that way to Phil now. It had removed the wrapping from his emotions. She couldn't advise him. She could only stand by. ” O to change the conversation, presently she mentioned the gleaming jackets she had bought a few days before. He didn’t smile appreciatively, His lips curled a little. “They matter a lot to you, don’t they, Judy? Clothes, I mean.” “Why no, not at all.” “But you wouldn't wear gingham aprons and live with a man on a Georgia farm or on a Pacific island and never have a picture in the paper. Not Mrs. Philip Godfrey Irving, who wears the most becoming clothes in America!” She glanced at him swiftly, scrutinizingly. No, he hadn't been drinking. But he wanted to hurt her, terribly and dreadfully. She fought back an inclination to defend herself. This was not the time for alibis. When she. spoke her voice was quiet. “Phil, we need the lodge this week-end. Shall we go?” His mind came back from a long distance. “The lodge? Oh, yes, of course.” Now his eyes were quiet again. “Judith, I think that might be an excellent thing to do.”

BY when Phil called on Friday he said: “Judith? The Cables are here from London. Just got a ring from old Pete. How about taking them along?” \ Because there was nothing else to do, she agreed. Anyway she liked the Cables, who were a little older and fond of the outdoors, And later, when Phil began to suggest that a house party might be in order because the week-end would not be theirs alone anyhow, she understood. He had decided that he couldn't face the two days alone with her, lest he make a disclosure he wasn’t ready to make. She helped.plan the guest list. Another woman was needed. “Why not Marta?” she asked. “She’s beautiful and we need her for ornamentation.” Phil's guarded answer showed that he didn’t know how much she suspected. “Do you think so? She hates New York over week-ends.”

" » =

HEN she replaced the telephone in its ivory cradle Judith stood up, gave the heavy rose hassock a mighty kick that sent her silver mule spinning after it, bit her Nps. Marta wouldn't fit. That should be good news—should show up a woman. But Marta was clever enough to get the men to protect her. For one thing she didn't know how to dress. She would have no rust and green and brown sweaters and skirts along. Or— maybe she did know how to dress. She would be fragile in rose and blue. And every man longed to be a Launcelot. The day went on. She prepared to meet some friends for lunch. There was a sheer black frock of chiffon, that went with a large black hat whose only ornament was a knot of pink wax flowers. She was ready to leave when she was summoned to the telephone by her maid. “You never reported on the play,” Bruce's voice said. “Let me come to tea and tell me where I bungled my lines.” “You couldn’t bungle them. But I can make a better suggestion. Why not bring Millicent and come to the lodge for the week-end? I'm going out in the morning and most of the guests will come later in the day. Come out after the night performance. We'll be swimming late in the pool and having supper around its edge.”

Nd 2

HEN he had accepted and premised to tell Millicent he’d drive her out, he said: “That makes us even.” “Even?” “Yes, Judy Bole, for going back on the invitation in Pittsburgh a dozen years ago.” “But what invitation?” “Ummm-~hummmmm! I gave your mother a message to give you one day soon after I'd taken you home that night on that mining trip and you never replied. I supposed you had changed your mind.” “I never got the message,” Judith said quietly, knowledge coming years too late. “It was my step-

Not even of my love for |

RIN NA

mother and she did things like that. I'm sorry!” “So am I!” For a moment they were back once more in the city of smoky hills, their visions yet unfound in the gray skies that covered the great mills and the three dark rivers. For a moment anything was possible. Then, they were adults again. EJ EJ v ID you know me at once?” Judith asked. “Not until someone called you ‘Judith’.” “Why didn’t you remind me?” she asked, then answered her own question in the rich, throaty tones that were always honest. “I know—you doubted me as I doubted you. You thought I had turned you down and when: I- didn't seem to recognize you, you wondered if I was keeping Judith Bole's boat house a secret. And I thought you didn’t want to know me any more.” When she started to lunch Juadith had a warm glow in her heart. A lost friend had returned. A lantern had swung down to light the ‘path. Only Phil mattered but she | Was glad she had found Bruce.

2 =" =

ATURDAY afternoon, about 5 o'clock, Judith heard the clarion of Phil's car sounding down the valley. There were fires in all the rooms, for rain had come again and the night would be chilly. The great, spreading lodge, which was almost all living room with a den tacked on one side and bedrooms scattered above on the second floor, was bright with lamplight. The brass shone softly, the deep chairs and divans waited. The odor of food came from the kitchen and from somewhere, not too far away, the radio found a medley of old songs and brought them into the house. Judith was wearing green tweeds with a rust sweater and matching oxfords. She went to the terrace to greet her husband and the two airedales followed her. “Hello, Judy, dear,” Marta's fluted tones called from the depths

of the car. “It’s sweet of you to let me come.” “You're an angel to come,” Judy lied with perfect grace. “Hello, darling,” Phil flung out carelessly. “This child was relying on trains and you know how they run up here.” “Oh, my dear, you should have called one of us,” Judith reproved, never disclosing by so much as flicker of an eyebrow that she knew that was just what Marta had done. “It was thoughtless of me not to suggest getting you this morning.” ”n on = “Yy HAD to give up my car. Dick was sort of forgetful about alimony,” Marta explained with the air of a martyr who does not censure, but accepts life with its reverses. “How lovely you look,” Judith went on, talking against time. More cars were coming now. Guests were welcomed, retired to their rooms to prepare for dinner. Laughter and gay voices went drifting down the halls. Judith did not ‘change’except to add a small strand of pearls to the turtle neck of her sweater as a dinner gesture. They had been a gift from Phil a few months before. When Phil went into his den she followed, determined to make no mention of Marta. Love, faith, devotion were intangible substances that could not be touched, or they would move away. Quicksilver stuff. You couldn't pick them up. You knew, though, they were there so long as you did not touch them with words. Here in the outdoors she sensed the old truth again. “A good day, Phil?” she asked. He turned slowly and when she saw the haggard look on his face, read the suffering in the blue eyes, her heart turned over and didn’t move again. So this was the way women felt when their husbands came to say goodby. It was very still in the den, just the snap of a twig as the blaze found it, and the showering raindrops on the window. “Judy,” he began and paused. Judy . «

(To Be Continued)

WISE GUY—By

Daily Short Story

Parke Cummings

ES, I like Nassau. It's a swell place, isn’t it? . . . Did I enjoy the boat trip? Well now, I'll tell you about it, and you see what you think. I sailed on the Commodore with Jimmy Faunce. That's right, he’s the tall, blond fellow in the sales department. . . . Great guy? Yeah—a great guy on land. A swell guy on land, but on a boat—well, wait’ll you hear. We got a stateroom on B deck and Jimmy took the lower berth. He got there first. But maybe I'm knocking Jimmy too hard, because we're not out of the Narrows before he turns out to be useful. He knows a girl on board. . . . Good number? I wouldn't know, Wait a minute, I say I wouldn't know because this girl is traveling with another girl named Dot Parnell. Jimmy see girl, Jimmy meet Dot Parnell. I meet Dot. So I'm saying Jimmy has his useful points. But of course Jimmy has to fall for Dot, too. Yes, that’s right—too. Wait a minute, anybody would. Dot has everything. Sweet face, lovely mind, swell figure. , . . Oh, all right. I won't bother you. But the only trouble is that she’s a sailor. Yes, I like sailors all right—especially her—but I'm not one myself. This is my first trip on anything bigger than the East River. And I have a weak stomach.

Ld ” ”

‘OT was born with a silver halyard or something in her mouth. She's sailed all over the place. You know those Frostbite races on Long Island Sound, where they dodge chunks of ice all winter? They're her meat. Yeah, and she’s sailed to Bermuda and up the Maine coast and Puget Sound— you know. All those places. Goes on the Manhattan Yacht Club cruises. . . They don’t allow women on them? Well, it’s one of those fancy yacht clubs. Anyhow, you get the idea. A female Sinbad.

So it doesn’t look so good for my chances when it turns out that Jimmy knows a spinnaker from a jib. When a fellow and a girl feel the same way about certain things it sort of tends to throw them together. You'll see. Jimmy knows all the lingo and he’s been on big boats, too. Europe and Bermuda and loads of times to Nassau—and never been sick, he says. Well, the steward finally finds my other suitcase after putting it in a couple of wrong cabins, and after a brief unpacking session we go up for refreshments. Jimmy, the sweet louse, starts us off. “I was talking to the steward,” he announces, “and he tells me we're in for a curler. Says there’s a hurricane 300 miles out that’s got the Queen Mary doing a fan dance.” = ® » EAH, you get it. The old malarkey. But I don't know it— yet. The drinks come, and I take a sip. You can imagine. I'll take brandy and vinegar any time. “Good?” says Jimmy. “Delicious,” I lie. Jimmy looks around at the assembled and grins. “Did I ever tell you the story about the fellow who was seasick?” he inquires. Before I can blurt, “Yes!” he continues. “Well, he was at the rail doing his stuff—you know.” “Yeah, I know,” I says quickly. “——And this other fellow comes up to him and asks, ‘Weak stom-

The Drink THAT KEEPS

YOU FIT

ach?’ And the first fellow comes back. ‘No, I'm throwing it just as far as the rest of 'em.’”

” ” ”

ES, I'm sorry, but that’s just to give you an idea. That was one of the mildest ones he told. Dot and the other girl—Betty, I guess it is— laugh, but not very loud. I laugh too—very faint indeed. Well, Jimmy keeps up this horse play until ainner time. A wisecrack here, a story here—all on the same delightful subject—a few vivid descriptions of how rough the A. ocean can get when it's feeling frisky— and all the time he’s lapping down Scotches, and getting more loquacious. All for my benefit, of course. As my interest in anything wetter than the Gobi Desert rapidly wanes, he chats more and more with Dot about mainsails and jibs and northeasters, and I ask Betty if she’s read any good books lately. It takes no yogi to see that Jimmy is wedging me firmly behind the eight ball for Dot’s benefit. As I told you before, a fellow and a girl are apt to hit it off when they see things the same way. The four of us get the second sitting for dinner, and by feed time the sea is kicking up a little. I remark about it to Jimmy while we're getting dressed in our stateroom, and you know what he says. I guess they all do: “Smooth as a mill pond, boy, smooth as a mill pond. Wait'll you see it get really rough.” I tell him I can wait.

” ” ” E meet the girls at the table later and you can probably imagine how we order. The girls take a normal civilized meal, and I have beef broth, a cracker, a very small piece of chicken and a cup of coffee. Jimmy starts out with shrimp cocktails, and then downs some green turtle soup, a filet of flounder, and some lobster newburg with sities of French fries and eggplant. And through it all he keeps up a running conversation: “Boy, these shrimps sure are good, but I wish they had some tripe on this boat. Nothing like tripe to put a sea-voyager in A-1 shape!” After these charming soliloquies he grins at me. It is, as you may imagine, a delightful meal for me. Dot is taking it all in without batting an eyelash, and I can deduce that she thinks I'm Caspar Milquetoast’s invalid sister. Then Jimmy calls our steward, and proclaims, in a very loud voice: “I've decided to skip the salad.” Generous of him, I think. But wait. “In its place,” he continues, so we can’t miss hearing it, “I think I'll have a dozen raw oysters.” = ” ” HAT'S the pay-off. Wasting no time on pardon me's, I depart from thence, and head for the promenade deck on the double quick. Yeah, I make it, just to keep the record straight. So when you come to dinner at my house, don’t expect oysters. . . . What? . . . Just because I don’t like them? No, I like them all right when I'm on terra firma, but Dot doesn’t. . . . How’s that? . . . Sure we're getting married—next month. Oh, yeah. There's one thing I forgot to tell you: When I dashed out of that dining salon to the deck, Dot was three steps ahead of me all the way.

THE END

(Copyright, 1837, United Feature Syndicate) The characters in this story are fictitions

OUT OUR WAY

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

SR TTR Ta Te

SATURDAY, JULY 31, 1937

By Williams | FLAPPER FANNY By Sylvia.

WHUTA THEY WANT ME IN TH’ OFFICE FER?

LI'L ABNER Z/ YOU RAT’ I'VE

HUNDREDS MILES - JUST T’

YEP'HIS IS IT! SOME PEOPLE CALL IT "HEARTBREAK STREET! [/

REALLY HoLLYwooD BOULEVARD, MR.GABLE ?

IT BRINGS

#7 $937 BY NEA SERVICE, INC 7 M REG US PAY OF}

SUCCESS “© MANY, BUT DIS APPOINTMENT TO “THOUSANDS

THAT SHOWS WHAT WORRY WILL DO~ EVERYBODY 1S SO WORRIED ABOUT WHO 1S GOIN’ TO GIT TH’

NEW FOREMAN

THAT THEY THINK EVEN THAT KID, JUST OUT OF KNEE BRITCHES, 7

MIGHT GIT IT.

P ROMOTION FEVER.

FRIEND.”ME THERE WAS SANGWIDGES IN

MEAN TRICKS ON A

\ <)'LL TEACH YOU T'PLAY Ay LU TOLD W/

PACKAGE - DIDN'T You?

WELL, HE'S ) JUST TH' KIND T™HEY'D WANT, IF HE DON'T GET IT, AND JUST TH KIND THEY DON'T WANT, IF HE DOES GET IT.

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“What happened to the Gilt kid's bodyguard?”

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HAPPINESS AND

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_ HA HA! YOURE LIKE ALL “HE REST, 0SSIE ! HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD 1S WHERE

ALL “THE OTHER TOURISTS FOR

’ NEA SERVICE, INC. 7. M. REQ U. 8. PAT. OFF

—By Raeburn Van Buren

AT LAST! I'LL SNEAK AND EVER LEFT

THE HOUSE-

ASK THE TIMES

Inclose a 3-cent stamp for reply when addressing any question of fact or ‘nformation 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—Give the exact date when President Roosevelt declared the banking holiday in 1933. A—At 1 a. m,, Monday, March 6, 1933.

Q—Can the Government use my patent without my consent? A—The Government has authority to appropriate a license to use your invention if it is of vital public interest, and necessary to the existence of the Government. For such appropriation compensation is paid according to the provisions of the statutes.

Q—How is the name Marat pronounced, and who was he? A—Jean Paul Marat was a French revolutionist who was assassinated by Charlotte Corday. The name is pronounced ma-ra’.

Q—How long should I wait before entering a complaint concerning nonreceipt of material ordered from a mail order house? A—You should wait at least four days plus the time required for your order to get there and the parcel to be returned. In no case should you wait more than two weeks. Q—What chemical elements constitute bacteria? A—Like all protoplasm they are made up of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, and sulphur, with small quantities of chlorine, phosphorus, sodium, magnesium, calcium and iron. Q—Name the capital of Syria.

THERE'S TH’ BOY—=A-COMIN’ BACK — BACK T'BE PRETEND=| DON'T KNOW HE'S

A—Spyria is divided into the Republic of Lebanon, the State of

IS THERE A FELLA NAMED MELVIN MOXEY STAYIN’ HERE? A FLASHY ES RAT- §

HE'S GONE~AGAIN! AND SO ARE HIS CLOTHES!

—By Al Capp |

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“I'm getting awful discouraged—all the eligible men already have been snatched up and sued for

breach of

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Syria, the Government of Latakia, and the Government of Jebel Druze. Beirut is the capital of the Lebanese Republic; Damascus is the capital of the Syrian State; Latakia is the capital of the Government of Latakia; Es Suweideh is the seat of the Government of Jebel Druze.

Q—Which state has a unicameral Legislature? A—Nebraska. Q—How tall is Josef Stalin? A—Five feet 5 inches. Q—How is the name Ouida pronounced? A—"“We’-da.”

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