Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 2 February 1938 — Page 16

PAGE 16 .

Joe Love

By RACHEL MACK

“Richest Girl in the World” ends today on Page Seven.

CHAPTER ONE TALL lithe girl in a brown coat and bonnet stood knocking on old Oliver Dart’s oaken street door in the heart of London while a summer storm blustered and the sperm-oil street lamps were being lit. She had come 3000 miles by sailboat across the Atlantic and 100 miles by coach from Bournemouth, and she was only just losing her patience.

The door opened a crack to let a plump red-faced woman in a starched cap peer out. The girl said to her, “Let- me in, please! I'm wet to the skin!” “Who be you?” “Polly Chelsey. Great-niece to Mister Oliver Dart. I've come from Connecticut to see him.” “Where be Connecticut? Yorkshire?” “In America.” “Lud!” There was a gasp, and the door opened. On the threshold the girl turned to call to the driver of a gig that had brought her to the door: “Cabby, bring my trunk, and mind you don’t drop it!” The driver lumbered up the steps with a small doeskin trunk studded with brass nails and deposited it on the hall floor. “How much do I owe you?” asked Polly Chelsey. “Two shillings, eight pence, Miss.” “You're a robber, but here ‘tis. And good night to vou.” “Good night to you, voung Miss. Journey's end be bright!” “Bright!” echoed Miss Polly Chelsey forlornly after the street door had banged shut. She looked around the narrow wainscoted hallway which was decorated with nothing, as far as she could see, but a winding staircase and a fat old woman holding a candle. “Well,” she said a little uncertainly, “could I see my uncle now?” “It'll fair lay him out, Miss. surprise.” “But I wrote him a letter before Christmas and told him I'd be here this summer on my cousin's brig, the Trim Yankee out of New Haven. He let me come.” “There was no letter, Miss.”

& ® = » HAT? He never got it?” The girl stood pondering a moment while the wet cloak hung to her in sculptured lines and her dripping bonnet sent small rivulets down her surprised young face. “Well, that's a pretty pass!—But

never mind. Take me to him and I'll recite the letter like a magpie.” “I'm Mrs. Broggs, Miss—cook to Mr. Dart. I'd advise you not to see him. No good can come of it. Let me make you comfortable in the house unbeknowns to him, Miss!” “But there's no sense to that,” cried Polly impatiently. “I've come to see him on business. If you mean he’s a cross old man, so be it. I've known many such in our town of Lyme.” . Still Mrs. Broggs demurred, shifting her feet uneasily and saying “Lud!” both under her breath and aloud, Presently she said, “He's above stairs in his study, Miss—supping. Follow me, if you must, but don’t say I didn't warn you.” Up they went, and Polly Chelsey was ushered into a well-furnished sitting room where a thin-featured, pale-eyed old man in a frilled shirt and high stock was having cold cuts and tea before a fire. The serving woman made a bobbing curtsey and said, with the watchful eye of a child bursting a paper sack: “Your great-niece from Americky, sir!” Old Oliver Dart looked as if his eyes and ears had deceived him. Then, when he saw that she was an actuality, his face seemed to narrow and close in on itself, so that Polly thought she must be looking at a gnome instead of a man. She gave a shaken little laugh and explained, “I'm Polly Chelsey from across the Atlantic—daughter to your niece Mary that married the American seaman in Connecticut, and died there.” “To what circumstances do I owe your visit?” asked Oliver Dart. ” 2 ”

OLLY CHELSEY bent her graceful, long-limbed body toward the fire to warm her hands. Her hair was smooth and brown, her eyes deep blue, Ler features evenly cut. There was an unconscious dignity about her. Though she was but 18 she seemed a woman grown, as any girl would who had been housekeeper, seamstress and cook for her family since her 14th year. She spoke up bravely. “It's as I told you in the letter you never got. I've come for my mother’s share of my grandfather's money, because we need it so. My father’s had to give up following the sea because of a stiffness of the joints, and my brother’s been lame from a lad. We heard, roundabout, that my grandfather, Richard Dart, died last year. Knowing he had a counting-house business and was well-off, I said I'd come for my mother’s share—" Oliver Dart spoke curtly and with an obvious relish: “The property was all willed to your mother’s brother, the proper heir. Very logi-

The

cal. “Oh!” cried Polly in quick protest. “That's the way the aristocrats do. The titled landowners. But my srandfather’s case was different. He was a city man, in business.”

ve ET entitled to make a will, my dear young lady. Even had your mother remained dutifully in England and not gone over to the tricky Yankees he might have followed the same course. But certainly she and her children deserve nothing as matters stand. I'm surprised you ever entertained such ideas. You look more intelligent.” “I took a chance,” Polly said, and sighed. She had spent the family savings and several dangerous weeks making this journey; within 10 minutes this tight-lipped, hard-eyed old man. had shown her it was in vain. “Don’t let me detain you from returning to your lodgings,” said Oliver Dart. “To my lodgings?” repeated Polly uncertainly. “Why, sir, I'm in this predicament: My cousin Tim Chelsey put me ashore at Bournemouth

and took his cargo over to Cher-'

. Copyright, 1938, NEA Service, Inc.

bouxg. up or stop here till then.” peculiar . . tea for the guest.

tardly Yankees are up to now.”

exclaimed Polly coloring. English Navy, you mean!

He'll not be back to pick me several weeks. I expected to|the seagoing lads in America have

“Indeed,” replied Mr. Dart. “Most . Mrs. Broggs, set another cover and bring a pot of Draw up, Miss Chelsey, and tell me what the das-

“What the Yankees are up to?” “The They're

stealing men off our ships till half

stripes on their backs from British whips—" She stopped suddenly and smiled, to lighten her words, for she was hungry and needed a shelter. Polly Chelsey from Connecticut was nobody's fool.

(To Be Continued) (AN events, names and characters in this story are wholly fictitious.)

Daily Short Story

HOT BISCUITS—By V. R. Hatch

HE telephone was ringing as Ken Mason entered the house. On his way to answer it he looked for and found the familiar note

stuck in the hall mirror and signed in anticipation of another makeshift dinner. In the three weeks he had lived with his sister Stella he had come home at least six or seven times hungry for a good home-cooked meal, only to find that she and her husband, Gene, were dining elsewhere. That was all right with Ken if Stella had only phoned him at the office so he could have got his own dinner downtown at a good restaurant, but she always forgot. Ken sighed as he lifted the receiver—Stella, of course, telling him what cans to open. “Hello,” he said listlessly, and then sat up with a jerk as a soft voice sprawled: “How would you like a nice pan of hot biscuits?” “B-biscuits?” he stammered. “Right from the oven,” the girl assured him. » ” " OULD I like hot biscuits?” Ken breathed fervently into the telephone. “Well, then, come and get them.” she ordered gayly. “Oh boy!” he exclaimed. “Where’ll I come?” “Why — why — isn’t this — aren't vou’'—the girl faltered—"I must have the wrong num——" “That's all right,” Ken broke in anxiously, “but how about the biscuits?” But the receiver was hastily hung up at the other end. Since his transfer from the comparatively small town to the main office Ken had been too busy with his work to do anything in the social line, but he had promised Stella to attend the next covered-dish party, a form of entertainment much in favor with the small club of young married people to which she and her husband belonged. The following Saturday night found him, with Steela and her husband and seven or eight other couples and a small child or two, gathered in one of the pretty bungalows of the neighborhood. They were all pleasant and he decided he was going to have a good time.

E was both amused and rather ashamed at the interest he was taking in food these days, but living at home for all his 28 years with the best cook in town for a mother had certainly spoiled him for livihg out of a can. He had joined the others at the table and was frank-

Mind Your

Manners

Test your knowledge of correct social usage by answering the following questions, then checking against the authoritative answers below: 1. How might you accert a spoken invitation to a party? 2. Should a hostess say more than “How do you do?” in greeting her guests at the door? 3. How are the bridge partners usually determined at a party? 4. Should the person in charge of a party see that the professional entertainers are served refreshments? 5. Should a hostess invite a professional friend to her home as a guest, and expect him to “sing for his supper”?

What would you do if— There is a question on which you would like professional advice— (A) Ask a professional man sometime when you meet him socially? (B) Go to his office for advice? (A) Ask him when you are playing golf together?

» EJ ” Answers

1. “Thank you. I'd love to come.” 2. Yes, she should express her pleasure at their coming. 3. Either partners are marked on a tally card, or the four players at each table cut the cards; the two lowest playing together and the two highest. 4, Yes. 5. No.

Best “What Would You

Do”

“I must have the wrong num—-"

®ly preparing to gorge when he heard his sister call to a girl who had just come in from the kitchen. “Oh, Lisa, have you met my brother Ken?” Stella introduced | them. “Lisa Delmar, Ken.” Ken turned and food was instant- | ly forgotten. If he had been asked | to describe the girl he had vaguely | dreamed of marrying everyone there ; would have immediately recognized | Lisa Delmar. For an instant their | eyes met and held, pleasantly, as | Lisa put down the napkin-covered dish she was carrying. “If those are biscuits, Lisa,” Stella called from down the table, “do give | Ken one. He's been tormenting the life out of me lately for some.” Ken suddenly remembered his telephone call. What if it had been Lisa— “I'd go anywhere for a pan of hot biscuits,” he grinned up at her, and the rosy flush that mounted her cheeks encouraged him to think he was right. To cover her momentary confusion she began to fuss over a small boy sitting just beyond him. “Why, Charles Delmar,” she scolded the very presentable young man sitting beside the boy, “you're letting him eat pickles. If he has a tummy ache tonight I won’t sit up with him.” on on » EN felt suddenly very unhappy. He tried to reason with him-

self that no girl with whom he had had two minutes telephone con- | versation and had seen another a | few minutes could possibly make | any difference in his life, but it

| didn’t make him any happier. He i should have known, of course— Stella had told him they were all young married couples. With his eyes held firmly on his plate Ken went on eating but he couldn't stop his ears from taking in eagerly the sound of Lisa's gay bantering voice, Eventually the meal came to an end and everybody drifted in to the living room where some of them, with Lisa at the piano, began to harmonize old songs while waiting for the bridge tables to form. Ken knew he wasn't doing Stella very proud but all he wanted was to get away from there as soon as possible. He found himself a corner. But he had hardly settled himself when Charles Delmar joined him. And worse still, Ken was afraid he was going to like him. Then the little boy crawled up on Charles’ lap, and Ken felt his loneliness redoubled.

= ” n ROM where he sat Ken could see Lisa's profile and, try as he might, his eyes would not leave it. Charles must have noticed after a bit for he said, laughingly: “Aren't you the chap to whom Lisa offered

biscuits? Somehow I got that impression when you mentioned a pan of biscuits at the table.” Ken turned red and started to stammer something but Charles went on: “Lisa’s a darn good cook and likes to share results with her friends. She's a darn good kid in every way if I do say it about my sister.” “Sister!” Ken bobbed up in his excitement. “Why, yes,” Charles looked at him wonderingly. “She's keeping house for me while my wife is in the hospital with a sister for Buddy here.” Ken grabbed his hand and shook it fervently. “Congratulations. wonderful family.” He left Charles slightly dazed with his sudden enthusiasm and strode over to the piano where Lisa had just risen. “C-couldn’t we go somewhere,” he asked her earnestly, “and talk about biscuits?”

THE END (All events, name d this story are wholly Boos jracter -

SO THEY SAY

The time-honored tradition of aborting pneumonia by becoming drunk has in our experience only the support of wishful thinking.— Dr. J. G. M. Bullowa of New York University College of Medicine,

You've got a

I will pay from $1 to $6 a pound, dependent on quality. — Nelson Daragh, St. Louis, Mo., president of F. C. Taylor Fur Co. announcing the price he is willing to pay for the snippings of mustaches trimmed after the contest winner is decided.

Warfare’s newest weapons, the airplane and the tank, are valuable auxiliaries to the infantry, but for a decision we must still look to the man on foot.—Gen. Malin Craig, chief of staff, United States Army.

The distilling industry . . . has wonderful possibilities but tremendous social responsibilities.—James J. (Gene) Tunney, former heavy-

solution— (B).

weight champion, manship of

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OH, ICK=THER'S A BEAR HIBERNATIN' HERE ~ COME IN AN' SEE HIM!

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WEDNESDAY, FEB. 2 1088 FLAPPER FANNY

pe By Sylvia

“Dogs are certainly peculiar! Wouldn't you just as soon have a fresh bone as the one you put in cold

storage last

Reg. U. 5. Pat. Off. —All rishi rewerved

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

HE OF WON TH KENTUCKY WHEN

Syndicate, Tne. ~

(weLL..weLL! visors !

TO SEE WHAT REALLY CAN BE DONE WITH OlL LAND, EH!

ABBIE AN' SLATS

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UNSEEN.LE'S SHAKE. ON IT.

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summer?”

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START 'EM THEN, JOE , AND WE'LL SHOW THIS SMART YOUNG MAN WHAT A FooL HE

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MR. SCUTTLE, DO ME A FAVOR ....

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GET AWAY FROM !

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D THOSE RED LIGHTS

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,

@—When is the best time to cut trees in order to kill them?

A—In the spring after the sprouts have started and the trees are in full leaf. Some trees have a remarkable capacity for reproducing

themselves from shoots and consequently they are difficult to exterminate. Among these are the persimmon, sassafras, cottonwood, soft maple, willow, sycamore and yellow poplar or tulip. Owing to their peculiar root systems the stumps of these and certain other species persistently send out shoots and sprouts after the upper trunks have been removed. As a general rule cuts made in trees during the dormant period in winter are not 50 injurious as cuts made during the spring, summer and early fall.

Q—Is it true that a Chinese wife of an American citizen cannot legally enter the United States for permanent residence? A—The law excluding them for permanent residence became effective May 26, 1924.

Q—Has the pitching distance on baseball diamonds always been 60 feet, 6 inches?

A—In 1845 the pitching distance was 45 feet; in 1881 it was increased to 50 feet; and in 1893 it was increased further to 60 feet, 6 inches, the present distance.

Q—What kind of a place was the “Old Brewery” in New York City? A—A tenement located in the Five Points district on the East Side, about 1840. Children are said to have lived there from birth to high school age without ever getting out-of-doors. It is reported that 26 persons, including Negroes and whites, once lived for days in a room 15

BLESS ‘EM, | SAY WEVE PED ON MICKEY THE WISE GUY'S CORNER.

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feet square, none of them leaving the room at any time. Murders were said to be a nightly occurrence.

Q—I was born in Hartford, Conn, 22 years ago and when I was 10 years old my Italian-born parents moved back to Italy, taking me with them. They were not naturalized in the United States and established a permanent residence in Italy. Am I an American citizen? A—Since vour parents had not expatriated themselves from Italian citizenship, and returned to Italy for permanent residence while you were a minor, you are not a cit.zen of the United States; you are an Italian subject.

Q—When was the Cincinnati court house riot and what was the direct cause? : A—The riot, caused by lax law enforcement, began March 28, 1884 and lasted for several days. After several slayers had been convicted of manslaughter instead of murder, mobs stormed and burned the court house; 45 persons were killed and about 150 were injured.

Q—Must a partner's lead always be returned in contract bridge? A—Against a suit declaration, do not return your partner's lead if he leads a high number card which is a lead from the top of nothing, or a low number card led from a weak honor card.

Q—Do elephants succumb to the bite of King Cobra snakes? A—Mortal bites are inflicted either on the end of the trunk, or just at the juncture of the nail and the foot, where the skin is tender. Death ensues in about three hours.

Q—What is the difference between mammoth and colossal canned asparagus? A—Colossal asparagus is oneeighth of an inch larger than the mammoth.

Q—To what country does Yucatan belong? A—It is one of the states comprising the Republic of Mexico. Q—Who wrote the play Rather Be Right?” A—George S. Kaufman and Moss Harte.

“I'd

IT'S SLATS --- HE SAYS LOOKS =--LIKE STORMY WEA

YOUR HEALTH

By DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN American Medicat Journal Editor ’ EPEATEDLY in this column it has been emphasized that the matter of controlling weight is, in | most cases, simply physiological bookkeeping. . When a human being lies in bed doing nothing, he uses up about 11 calories per pound per day. If he exercises lightly he uses 20 calories per pound per day. If he plays football, tennis or chops down trees, he may use 40 calories per pound. A man who weighs 150 pounds will, therefore, use 6000 calories a day when he is working hard or 2500 to 3000 calories a day if he is working around an office or a store and from 1500 to 1600 calories a day if he is at rest. Since women weigh on the average less than men, a woman weighing 120 pounds will use about 1800 calories a day if she is hard at work but only 1200 calories a day if she is a lady of leisure.

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F we want to reduce weight, we use less calories each day than the amount necessary to provide for the work that we do. However there are other factors necessary to keep in mind if you want to keep your health. The stomach requires a certain amount of material on which to work. A complete liquid diet, therefore, may affect seriously the processes of motion of the stomach and digestion. If a woman who wants to reduce regularly uses 1200 calories a day and wants to take 200 calories per day less, she can drink 10 glasses of milk each day which will give her exactly 1000 calories. However, even though milk is the most nearly perfect food, she will fail to obtain adequate amounts of iron, vitamin C and vitamin D as well as the necessary bulk. Thus she is more likely to harm her health and digestion than other-

wise. . » =

WO eggs would make 150 calories. On six eggs a day she could reduce but she would hardly

be getting much satisfaction out of

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“Wow! I've discovered a new Observatory and yell,

her diet. Twelve oysters make 100 calories, but no one would want to

eat 144 oysters as a means of supplying the day’s requirement of food. If, however, one would wish to take exactly 1000 calories per day, it would be possible to add them up as follows: Calories Milk, one glass Bread, one large slice .. Butter, 12 ounces Eggs, two Small sirloin steak, 12 ounces. 100 Potato, one . Buttermilk, one glass

planet. Call up the Tweedle ‘Finders, keepers'!”

Peas, one serving, 3 ounces Baked apple, 7 ounces......... String beans, 2 servings..... ‘ee Spinach, one serving Thus one would have a great deal of food and still be on a reducing diet.

I threw the rocks because I wanted to be sent to jail . . . B want to go to jail and think.— Frank Lewis, 23, Portland, Ore, tired of working 14 hours & day as a cook, decided he wanted to go to jail and think it over so he threw a brick through a depart« ment store plate-glass window.

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MANILA STUBS

LONG FILLER CIGARS