Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 November 1937 — Page 46

BY MARY RAYMOND

CAST OF CHARACTERS JILL. WENTWORTH, heroine, atiractive debutante. ALAN JEFFRY, artist. BARRY WENTWORTH, brother. JACK WENTWORTH, Jill's brother, SYLVIA SUTTON, oil heiress.

hero, rising young

Jill's step-

Yesterday—Barry and his father quar- | rel over money. Suddenly the elder | Wentworth erumples at his desk,

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

RS. WENTWORTH had been startled out of deep sleep | by the sound of loud voices. And | then, there was another sound. |

Something had fallen in the room | under her own bed. Her husband's | study. She was out of bed, pulling a | robe about her, shivering a little. It | was silly to be frightened by an un- | familiar sound. Those careless young people might have left the | front door open and the wind might have blown something down. | She went to the door that | opened into her husband's room | and turned the knob. John was up. That was it. His bed had not been | slept in. ® ® = N the upstairs hall, she met Miss | | Dexter hurrving from the other | wing, looking like a little gray owl in her woolly wrapper, her eyes round with alarm. “Then, you heard it, too,” Miss Dexter whispered. “Do you think it might be burglars?” | “I don’t think anything of the kind,” Mrs. Wentworth

snapped. | “It's 5 or 6, almost time for the]

| door.

hall switch, flooding the big room with warm light. " on o HE next moment they were standing in the open study A scream rose to Miss Dexter's lips, and died there, as she felt Mrs. Wentworth swaying

| against her; then arms clinging as

her employer slipped without a word to the floor. “My God!” Miss Dexter's frantic thoughts ran. “The poor man’s died with his heart. And now, maybe, Mrs. Wentworth is dying from shock.” She bent over Mrs. Wentworth. There, her eyes were fluttering open. She was moving. At least she wasn't dead. “I'm all right,” Mrs. Wentworth said. She got to her feet and steadied herself by the table. “Get the servants, and then call a doctor for Mr. Wentworth.”

= o »

HE doesn’t know it’s too late for a doctor,” Miss Dexter thought. She looked back from the door. Mrs. Wentworth was moving some papers on the desk. Arranging them neatly. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing,” Miss Dexter's thoughts ran on. “Making the room nice for the doctor, when it isn’t a bit of use. Mr. Wentworth was particular like that, too. He always kept his papers stacked under the marble paperweight, in a nice, neat pile.” It seemed a long time, but she knew it was only a few minutes

| before the study was filled with

quiet, sober-eyed servants. And then, Howell, the second butler, was saying in a low but firm

don again, ma'am, until the police see him. At least, I'd like for Mr. Jack to see him before he’s moved.” Mrs. Wentworth nodded her head. She sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands. “I'll wake Mr. Jack and Mr. Barry,” Miss Dexter said. “And Miss Jill, too, I guess. Oh, poor Miss Jill. She loved him so.” A few moments later, she was pounding on Jack's door. And then on Barry's. Jack had bounded out of bed instantly, answering the summons: Anything wrong} Miss Dexter?” “your father's ill,” Miss Dexter spoke mechanically. “I'll be with you in a moment,” came Jack's sober voice. ” ” »

T had been more difficult to awaken Berry. “Drunk as usual,” But finally, Barry's flushed face appeared at the door. “What's the idea of waking me at the crack of dawn?” he had queried, gruffly. “your father has had a stroke or something,” Miss Dexter told him bluntly. “It looks pretty bad.” She had the feeling that Jack had felt the blow—softened as il had been for him—much more than Barry. Though she had to admit that Barry had looked sort of sick and bothered. But that might be liquor. If he didn't watch himself, drink was certainly going to get him. At Jill's door, Miss Dexter knocked gently. Several times. But there was no answer, “I must think of some way to break .it gently,” she thought. “She's so sweet, If I could, I'd

Miss Dexter muttered to herself.

HE GIVE ME A FLOUR SACK! 1 COULDN' HANDLE SO MANY LITTLE BAGS.

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\ : BO LI'L ABNER | \J . THIS ANCIENT DEED ANEMS

GIVING THE, ISLAND TTAN-NOW FTY NRATTAN FET s

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

—,

By Williams

JE GODS!_T SAID FIFTEEN CENTS WORTH OF \ IT} SODA CRACKERS, AND HE GOT FIFTY CENTS WORTH? WE'LL ALL BE SQUAWKIN' / | LIKE PAT A

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R=_N IRTY YEARS TOO SOON.

(GULPP)ARWAS GONNA USE IT T° J} A oF

WELL=IT WASN'T MUCH OF A HALIL.-

FRIDAY, NOV. 12, 1937 FLAPPER FANNY

By Sylvia

Dad ed

“Now, look us up right after the final whistle. We're in Seats 17 and 18, Row J, Section B, Lower Tier, Gate 5, on the South Side.”

—By Al Capp

esa

tone: \, DOLLANS =

“Nobody should go near him until It might not have

spare her this trouble. Her mother doesn’t seem to think much of her, and her father loved the ground

servants to come in. Burglars don't | Cl WOUL

break in at this hour. Mr. went- |. police come.

ANOTHER LI'L. Bu BARTEL.) REE | |IAASISS 4 LON THAR BE AGAIN ~AS IF. NO © Pl OUND, CEPT US. .

worth is up. He probably turned a |

chair over. Go back to your room before you wake everybody.” Suddenly, she realized she was fighting a dreadful premonition of disaster. Barry had been drinking last night. When he was drinking he was always in an ugly mood. Suppose he had gone to his father's study— “Go back to your room, Miss Dexter.” Mrs. Wentworth. spoke again with such cold finality in her vpice that the secretary retreated hastily, hurrying down the hall and into her own little nook like a frightened mouse slipping safely into its hole. Mrs. Wentworth waited only until | the secretary's door had closed, and | then hastened down the stairs. | Crossing the still shadowed hall, she stood for a moment outside the coor of the study. Then quickly opened it.

ARRY was standing as though turned to stone, looking down at a figure outstretched on the rug. An object, which she recognized dully as a heavy paperweight that her husband had used for years, was in Barry's hand. “He’s dead,” Barry whispered. “It was his heart.” And then as his mother’s anguished eyes still held his: “Good heavens, mother! You don’t believe I did this! We had a row. He was talking about cutting me out for a long while, I started toward him with this thing in my hand. I might have hit him if I had ever reached him. But before I got there he fell, hitting his head—-" “You must get out of here now, quickly . . . and get rid of that paperweight in your hand.” “But, mother, you can't, don’t believe I did it!” “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Barry,” Mrs. Wentworth whispered. “You mustn't be found here. Leave the house. When I flash on the lights in the hall, slip up the back stairs to your room. Lock the door behind you. Get undressed.”

you

” ” 5

» ”

HE summoned all her strength, | went over and bent to the still | form. She placed her hand on | the hand that lay outflung on the | rug. She recoiled with a cry. It | was true. He was dead. People | might not believe what Barry said. They might call it murder. | She must do something. The | servants would be coming in. They | would find her grieved but composed. They must also find Barry in his room, asleep in his bed. Mrs. Wentworth shuddered violently as she remembered that she must go through the quiet house, open the back door for Barry, leaving the lonely figure on the rug. But she was already doing it. Passing swiftly through the hall, unlocking a door. Then back, and on up the stairs, to the east wing. She knocked on Miss Dexter's door, «Miss Dexter! Miss Dexter!” It | was her own voice speaking. “I'm | frightened. I went to the bottom | of the stair and called Mr. Went- | worth. He doesn't answer. I'm | afraid he’s ill. You know his heart | isn’t strong.” »

1SS DEXTER had put on the gray robe again. As the thought of her employer's possible illness swept aside nervous fancies, she said practically: “Poor dear, and you were afraid to go to the study. I guess I upset you talking about burglars. Don’t worry. I suspect he went to sleep. That's all.” “We must go down,” Mrs. Wentworth insisted. «yes, of course,” Miss Dexter agreed. “You poor thing, you're shaking.” She sensed the sudden dependence upon her, It gave her a new | feeling of command, She chirruped cheerfully in her thin, bird-like voice: “It’s nothing at all, very likely.” , They had reached the lower Boo *s she saw Mrs. Wentworth : automatically to turn the

| been his heart. He's had a blow on the head.” # MF= WENTWORTH'S voice rang out wildly: “You mustn't say things like that. The fall did that. There's no need for police.” “I beg your pardon, ma'am. That may be true or it may not be. But I wouldn't be satisfied, beg your par=-

# ”

her little feet walked on.” She turned the knob quietly. The room was revealed in dainty disorder. Jill's lovely dress was thrown carelessly across a chair. Her satin slippers were near. A froth of silken things were on the bed, which was empty.

(To Be Continued)

Daily Sh

NIGHT JOB—By Alta Mulch

ort Story

ECHANICALLY the words [ ground through Mack's brain wearing a deep rut in it—rent bill, water bill, gas bill. He tried . to switch his thoughts to another track, but more words crowded in, cutting still deeper—‘no work today” . . « “call Jater® | « « and so on. They were meaningless, polite words wearing out a man's patience, breaking down his morale. There never seemed to be any escape— more words—his wife's. “Mack, you must do something; the children— they're hungry.” Didn't she realize that he couldn't take much more? Out of this fog of words a plan began to shape itself—at first vague and uncertain. Every knock at the door meant a collector; bills, bills, bills! The plan developed. It possessed him. It wiped from his mind all those hateful words. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn't eat, Over and over he told himself: “I must do it. There is no other way. It can't fail. I won't let it fail.”

Mind Your Manners

Test vour knowledge of correct social usage by answering the following questions, then checking against the authoritative answers below: 1. If you are taking a telephone message to call a certain number, is it necessary to get the person's name also? 2. If you are taking a telephone message, should you make a note of the time the call came through? 3. How should a married woman announce herself over the telephone when she is making a business call? 4, Is it good taste to carry on a private conversation in a crowded elevator? 5. Is it good business manners to make personal telephone calls during office hours?

What would you do if— Someone calls for.a member of your household who is not at home. Say— (A) “He's not home” y hang up?” (B) “He isn’t here. back at 5 o'clock?” (C) “I'm sorry that he isn't here now. May I take a message for him?”

” 2 » Answers s

1. Yes. It saves the awkwardness of calling a blind number, 2. Yes. Often the time is important. 3. “This is Mrs. Grover Franklin speaking.” 4. No. 5. No.

and

Call

Best “What Would You Do” solution—(C) is the most courteous, and hesides, may save an extra telephone call.

TT plan reached its climax. Should he go on? More words

—the pleading words of his wife: “Mack, we've got to move, they served notice today; they're turning off the gas and electricity tomorrow.

Mack, you got to do something—you must.” Well, of course he would do something. Didn't she realize that he had a plan all mapped out—couldn't she understand that he felt the need of doing something as much as she did? The store was in darkness. Easy now—he must be very careful. He mustn't slip up on anything. He was breathing hard. He had never felt so alone. He made a nervous rush for the doorway—fumbled with the key. He was inside. Should he go on? No, this was asking too much of a man. Again words pounding against his brain—“no work today” . . . “no work, no work today.” He must keep on. He took a step forward-—suddenly halted by the uncanny instinct of knowing that another human being was close at hand! ” » » RIGHTENED, he switched on his flashlight just as another flashlight gleamed into his face. For a split second two pairs of eyes searched each other—then darkness —blind fear—running, running—escape—home! He lay in bed trembung, expecting every car to be the police. Words again, his little daughter's: “Mamma, I'm hungry, I want milk.” He jumped at every sound and sat up in bed at the sudden striking of the clock. Then gradually out of this darkness and fear came morning. “Mack” —his wife's voice—did she know? “Mack, there’s a man to see you.” He stayed in the room until she called again, and he knew he couldn't stall any longer. Terrible words were hammering into the rut in his brain, jail, prison, disgrace for his wife and children. He opened the door, and there sat one of the fellows from the factory where he had been employed. “You're to report for work Wednesday, Mack. They're calling back most of the old fellows.” ® ® =

NCE again he knew the wonderful feeling of receiving a pay check. He paid his bills. He had money to buy suitable food and clothing for his family. His wife's voice: “Mack, I'm so glad you didn’t let the depression get you down.” She didn't know of the nightmare he lived in—the dreaded fear of discovery. He felt sure that some day she would find out that he hadn't been able to take it. In the darkness he wolud lie with eyes open staring into nothing while words beat upon his brain, His wife would ask him why he had done it. He knew he would explain,

THE. TS TO RECOGNIZE

ay TR

I CAN HELP 4 KNOCK OFF ¥ KINGSTON!

«A WY SO you CAN'T!

DS I PROBABLY WON'T | SEE YOU UNTIL AFTER THE GAME IS OVER... AND IF WE WIN, » ILL LET YOU CRY ON MY SHOULDER GOODNIGHT, JUNE!

! Farm FOR SALOMEY/S

A GOOD, STRONG DEFENSE AGAINST SHADYSIDE'S LONG FORWARD

EXPECT A PASS ON THE A| FIRST PLAY H| uNLESS 1| someone i | as TALKED!

J M. REC

SRRILARS ARE. JT JAOh

FRECKLES EH WELL, IM BETTING THE KID DOESN'T TALK THAT KIND OF LANGUAGE !

“ Pr

~¥ | \ BLE ion. 1937 BY NEA SERVICE, INC )

—By Blosser

rushed onto the field.

I~ J

IT REALLY HAPPENED IN

Playing in a heavy snowstorm, two eastern college teams were close to the sidelines when an inebriated fan jumped from the stands and ] ) Unnoticed by players or officials, he made one splendid flying tackle and broke up a play, without losing his hat. Ane other play, and he was in the thick of it. won lasting fame for his valiant efforts. The college he so loyally aided voted him an honorary letter, although the nearest he ever got to col- ~ lege was serving hot dogs to collegiates at a roadside stand

FOOTBALL!

Ejected from the game, he

”.

—By Raeburn Van Buren

ABBIE AN' SLATS THEY ARE GEN

THEIR WORD 1S UNIMPEACHABLE,

! | PAD VEST ITY | i

THE PROSECUTION CALLS A CHARACTER WITNESS...

put she wouldn’t understand. She would be sweet and forgiving, but he would know all the time that she would be thinking he had failed— that she would be disappointed in him. : & » Ov. night riding home in the subway he glanced up from the daily paper he was reading and encountered a pair of eyes fixed intently upon his face. Panicky fear possessed him. The car was slowing down for its next stop and he hurried off—miles from his home. His brain was in a whirl—discovery, discovery! Surely this time there could be no escape. The depression was over. The shops and factories had gone back to their regular schedules. Then came the organizing of labor unions. Mack attended one of these meetings for the men employed in the shop where he worked. The hall was crowded. He sat down beside one of the men and listened attentively to the speaker. He turned to express his opinion of the speech to the man beside him and found himself again in the darkness of that store — those same eyes were again looking into his. The impulse to flee possessed him. He seemed to lose all sense of reason—all he could think was escape, escape. He jumped up and walked quickly to the door with the other man at his heels. 8 8»

E reached the door. He was outside, but the other man laid a detaining hand on his shoulder He spoke to Mack, his voice strained and unsteady. “Go ahead, tell the police—why didn’t you tell them long ago? This suspense is torture. I'd rather be serving my term in the pen than being haunted by you and your eyes at every turn, You would manage to get a job in the same shop that I'm in. You did it just to torture me more, You don’t know the meaning of depression—you owned the store—you couldn't understand what fellows like us were up against. I was desperate—desperate, I tell you! I had to have money—my children were sick—my wife almost wild with worry—there were always bills, bills,

— .-,

--1 KNOW LOOIE SLUGG AND MOE GLUTZ WELL ! TLEMEN OF THE HIGHEST HONOR AND INTEGRITY. YOU NEED ONLY TO / LOOK AT THEM THAT

-~) 1S UN-1M-TL J 2

ASK THE TIMES

Inclose a 3-cent stamp for reply when addressing any question ot ract 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—How many states of the Union do not have personal income {lax laws? A—Sixteen: Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Illinois, Indiana, Maine, Maryland, Michigan, Nebraska, Nevada, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Dakota, Texas and Wyoming.

Q—What are the dimensions of a convex lens of five-inch focus? A—The radius of curvature should be 2'% inches. The thickness and diameter of the glass do not affect focal length.

Q—What were the first heard over a telephone? A—“Come here, Watson, I want you.” They were spoken by Alexander Graham Bell and addressed to his associate,” Thomas A. Watson, on March 10, 1876. Q—TIs there a place in Scotland named Airdrie? A—Yes; it is a municipal and par-

liamentary burgh in Lanarkshire, 11 miles east of Glasgow,

words

never any work—never any money. I think I went a little crazy. Now go ahead and tell the police, tell them——" A great light had broken all around Mack. He was almost blinded by the brillancy. The ruts in his brain were all smoothed out. He felt reborn—mew—free! He put out his hand and grasped the other man’s tightly, “It’s quite all right— forget it! I understand.” As he walked away he thought, “You'll never know just how much I understand.”

THE END.

bills, and

(Copyright, 1037) i

WOT'S DE IDEA ( O/COURSE \| SAYIN OUR WORD

ABLE? DAT MEAN WE'RE LIARS, DON'T IT?

NOT, YA 1G

S AS SAYIN'CUR ORD 1S PEACH HES GIVIN' US A R BUILD-LP!--

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"ME AN! MOE WAS DRIVIN'AROUND ABOUT ONE A.M, SIMPLY GITTIN/ TH NIGHT Al SLATS AN’ TH’ OLD SOAK IN A CAR THEY STOPS IN FRONT O' TH HENWOOD

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4 SUDDENLY WE SEES

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ini

YOUR HEALTH

By Dr. Morris Fishbein American Medical Journal Editor HE skin is frequently so delicate that it responds seriously to the irritation that comes from rubbing together of two skin surfaces. This occurs, of course, between the thighs, under the breasts, between

the buttocks, and in the skin folds of the abdomen of people who are very fat. Sometimes this kind of an eruption or irritation is seen between the fingers, and quite frequently it appears between the toes. Because ringworm of the feet, or so-called athlete's foot, is common, the mere irritation of the skin between the toes is sometimes diagnosed wrongly as athlete's foot. The only way to determine with certainty that the condition is athlete's foot is to find the parasite on the skin.

Sometimes there is irritation at the corners of the mouth due to rubbing or chafing. When the skin once becomes seriously rubbed and chafed, it becomes much more easy for infections of various kinds to gain entrance so that quite frequently there is secondary infection. The usual appearance of the skin in the condition called erythema intertrigo, which merely means chafing between two folds of skin, is the loss of the ordinary dull tone of the skin and instead the appearance of a tissue that is smooth, shiny, slightly reddened and somewhat moist, FE TE

BVIOUSLY the treatment of this condition involves first of all prevention. The methods of prevention will occur, of course, to anyone. The rubbing of the two surfaces must be prevented. The use of ordinary ointments, pastes and lotions commonly advertised for skin cures is dangerous bhecause most of these also contain irritating substances and are not applicable to a skin that is chafed. If then infection is not found, it is possible by the use of dressings to keep the skin surfaces from rubbing together and by the use of suitable

TSK! TSK! | SAYS T'LADIE == | WONDER THEY KIN BE DOIN'HERE PROBABLY GITTIN' TH! NIGHT AIR, TOO,” SAYS LOOIE AN'SQWE » MOSEYS ALONG! WAS WE SHOCKED WHEN WE READS THA HOUSE HAS BEEN ROBBED TH’ NEXT MORNINY TSK! TSK! AND-

ST TH HENWOOD,

? STONE A A GAIN-JiB YOU PLEASE

“It's pouring outside—shall I keep on pulling till it

lets up?”

bring about a cure. From that time on everything possible must be done to prevent a recurrence of the condition. :

SO THEY SAY

The orchestra used to be content to give key and cadence, Now it is a knightly monster which devours all==song, singer and drama.-Isaac Van Grove, Hollywood.

My success as “Oscar of the Wiildorf,” in relation to . . . hospitality

powders, and by soothing lotions to

CONSTANT TESTS MEANS CONSTANT

QUALITY

«vv FOR

and cuisine, is entirely due to my

—

wife. — Oscar Tschirky, New York, noted chef,

You should clean your own house first, rather than pass the buck on to the Administration.—Chairman O'Connor, Democrat, New York, of the House Rules Committee tells N, Y. Stock Exchange governors they should stop short sales,

The spitter should come back to the major and minor leagues and I'm going to see what can be done about it.-~Burleigh Grimes, former master of the “spitball,”