Kankakee Valley Post, Volume 9, Number 45, DeMotte, Jasper County, 28 September 1939 — Page 2

Prologue to Love

Lovely, independent Autumn Dean, returning home to British Columbia from abroad without her father's knowledge, stops at the home of Hector Cardigan an old family friend. He tells her that she should not have come home, that things have changed Arriving home at the “Castle of the Norns,” she is greeted lovingly by her father, Jarvis Dean, who gives her to understand that she is welcome—for a short Visit Her mother, former belle named Millicent Odell, has been dead for years. Autumn cannot understand her father's attitude, though gives hinf to understand that she is home for good She has grown tired of life in England, where she lived with an aunt. Her father gives a welcoming dance at the castle. Autumn meets Florian Parr, dashing, welt-educated young man of the countryside Late in the evening Autumn leaves the dance, rides horseback to the neighboring ranch where she meets Bruce Landor. friend and champion of hei childhood days He takes her to see his mother, an invalid. His father is dead thought to have killed himself. As soon as his mother sees Autumn she com mands Bruce to take her away, that death follows in the wake of the Odells Autumn is both saddened and perplexed Bruce, apologetic, can offer no reason for his mother's attitude Autumn calls again on Hector Cardigan—this time.to find out the reason for Mrs Landor's outburst From his conversation she nfferi ed that Geoffrey Landor killed himself because he loved Millicent Dean, her mother. Mean while. Bruce Landor rides to the spot where his father’s body was found years before. There he meets Autumn, who. leaving Hector, was searching for a lost child Bruce had found the child, and there Autumn and he talk of their families. They agree that her mother and his father loved each other deeply—and that their love is the cause of present antagonism.

CHAPTER IV— Continued Even old Hannah had slowly readjusted her whole psychology with Autumn as the center and controlling force of the new order That, no doubt, was what irritated him. He could never have admitted to himself that anything or/anyone in the world could have usurped his place in this house that had sheltered him for almost a quarter of a century. Nor was the girl conscious of what she had done —he would say that for her. She would be the first to protest that he was still master in his own house and his word was lav. She was loyal, if loyalty could be said to exist in the hearts of these young irresponsibles. and she was affection itself. He ~had loved the girl devotedly during the years she had been away from him, but the feeling he had for her now that she was back had grown so deep that the tears started to his eyes now as he thought of her. Just now he was more resolved than ever that they should quit the country. He had seen Autumn in the company of this young Parr. There was a nincompoop, if ever there was one. What was wrong with a man like old Elliot Parr that he could breed nothing better than a hare-brained numbskull like Florian? The race must be going to the dogs! And what could a girl like Autumn see in him? He wasn't even thoroughly a bad one he was a mere nothing! .Why in the devil hadn’t the girl found herself a decent husband long ago? He blamed her Aunt Flo for that. Flo never had been one you could count on. Well, he would have no daughter of his mate with Florian Parr -much as he admired Elliot.

A cold chill passed over him as his thoughts turned to Bruce Landor. Jarvis had seen Candor and Autumn riding home together last night after that fool affair of the lost Willmar boy What was getting into people that they couldn't take care of their own brats any longer Damn it all, parents nowadays had no sense of responsibility. Well, he would look after his own, at any rate. If he was called upon to do so. he would tell Autumn emphatically that the Deans and the Landors belonged to different worlds and they would stay where they belonged. If that wasn’t enough, he would go further. He would—But why get so wrought up over a mere hypothesis? He got up quickly al the sound of a motor coming to a halt before the house. He tossed his half-smoked cigar into the fireplace and stepped to a small cupboard that stood back in one corner. He poured himself a sizable drink of his favorite Scotch blend and held it for a moment toward the sunlit window before he drank it. He closed the cupboard and went to his room on the same floor. He would have to brush up a bit-before going down to dinner Florian Parr filled the two glasses a second time and handed one to Autumn. He was well pleased with himself. He had spent a large part of a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the company of Jarvis' Dean’s daughter and had watched her as she swung her car dizzily over trails he had never traveled before. He had listened to her gay chatter and had done bis best to contribute his own share of small talk about Lon< don and Paris and the men and women that belonged to the world he had left when his father had made it plain that if he wished to remain in it any longer he would have to pay his own bills. It had been a delightful outing—almost like a visit with an old friend. He had thought Autumn beautiful when he had sat beside her during their ride but he had never seen anyone quite so ravishing as - the girl who stood before him now and lifted her refilled glass. She was gowned in a coolly glowing white satin that clung the length of her body and flared out almost to the floor; small tips of green pumps peered out from below the white, and at her throat on a platinum chain hung a large single emerald, her father’s gift, she had explained, on her twenty-first birthday. He raised his glass toward ner and smiled. “You may drink to what you please,” he said, “but I’m toasting the queen of the Upper Country!” “Queens are becoming so old-fash-ioned, Florian,” she countered. “I am not flattered.”

THE STORY THUS FAR

‘‘My error,” he apologized with a slight; bow. “I ll compromise on the Princess they’re still in style, aren’t they?” “Expatriated.” she observed “Good enough.” he said, and drained his glass eagerly. Autumn sipped her cocktail and took a cigarette from the box on the low table that held the shaker an its tray. . “You know, Florian went on. setting his glass aside. “I can’t help thinking of you as carrying on the legend of your forebears—your mother and her mother They must have been .lovely creatures to have given life to such traditions as they have handed down.” “Lovely.” Autumn said. “ —and ! flaming.” “Lovely—and flaming!” Florran repeated. “My father has told me about your mother, especially. You ; must be very like her.” “I know very little of my mother,” Autumn replied, “except what : I have been told.”, He came and stood beside her, erect and confident in his manner. His eyes were narrowed as he looked down at her. “You will find me very abrupt at times, Autumn,” he said., ."I have learned it simplifies matters very often to speak one’s mind. I have been thinking about—us.” “Us, Florian?” Autumn smiled. | “I’d almost swear you were going to propose to me.” “But I am,” he said. “I believe you and I were made for each other.” She laughed lightly. “Why, Flotr ian—what a quaint idea? I don’t believe those words have ever been used before!”

“They may have been,” he admitted. ‘but never more appropriately. We both come from adventurous stock. There is something untamed in both of us. We are both gamblers. But I've never been more serious in my life. I want to marry you,” Autumn could not doubt his seriousness. The knowledge made her thoughtful. “Florian,” she said, “you really are a dear.” A perverse humor seized her. “Suppose I tell you that I'll think it over?” “Excellent!” he replied, placing an arm abruptly about her shoulders. “You arc permitting me to hope, then?” She laughed up at him. “Not at all Florian.” she said. “I am—in effect refusing you.” His serious mood vanished suddenly. He was actually amused at the situation I He chortled and stepped back from her. It was the first time he had ever really proposed to any girl in earnest —and she thought she was turning him down! Jarvis Dean's girl at that, with a background as iniquitous as sin' It was that background that lent piquancy to his quest, after all, and besides, by the Lord Harry, he was crazy about the girl! Presently his amusement subsided and his lips drew to a thin, petulant line. “I'll give you time to think about it. Autumn,” he said, striving to carry it off with a gay, inconsequential air “When we are alone again. I'll tell you how 1 love you.” “And how do you love me, Florian?” Her tone was gently mocking. Florian stepped toward her again and grasped her wrist. Autumn was amazed to see that his face had gone suddenly pale. “Don’t be a little fool!” he said. “You know when you've met your equal—in nerve—in contempt for life. You are going to marry me, Autumn, because we see—eye to eye.” » He released her and walked away as Jarvis Dean's footstep was heard descending ithe stairway. Autumn turned to greet her father. “Come along in. Daddy!” she called. “Florian has just been proposing to me.” Jarvis Dean’s face lighted with a smile as he entered the room. “He’ll be safe enough so long as you don’t accept him,” he said. “I think it was the cocktails that did it,” Autumn laughed. “A good dinner will fix that.” said the Laird, giving Florian his hand. “How are you, my boy?” “Topping!” Florian said, as their hands crossed. “I hope you have no objection to my proposing to Autumn. I really couldn’t help it, you know.”

O M ARTHAOSTFNSO-WNU SERVICI

THE KANKAKEE VALLEY POST

By MARTHA OSTENSO

“None whatever, sir. It’s my opinion that she has had some experi*ehce in the business. She ought to to look after herself by this.” , f’Rarther,” Florian drawled. “She managed the affair quite nicely, I shpuld say. Can I help you to a cobktail, sir?” ”No,” Jarvis replied, Tm a serious man and have too much respect for my stomach, thank Gcd, to punish it with such infernal concoctions.” Florian laughed and filled his own glass. “Father sends vou his respects. sir.” he said, “and would like to see you when you can take a day off." “And I'd like to see him, too." Jarvis replied, seating himself. “I have asked Autumn down for the polo game next week-end,” Florian went on. “Perhaps you could find the time, sir—" “Not yet, not yet,” Jarvis replied. “It’s a busy time of the year for me. Besides, you youngsters will have more fun without too many old codgers hanging about.” His big white head was thrust forward in its characteristic way as though he were eager to show an interest in the plans and projects of these youngsters while his mind and his obscure spirit remained withdrawn, remote. Autumn had seen the deaf and the blind make that same piteous effort at sociability. "Now, Daddy!” she rebuked him. “You’re just fishing. You want us to assure you that you are the best-

It was the note of the Basque bell.

looking and most fascinating gentleman in the Upper Country, ,and that no party would be complete without you.” The tapers of the Laird's infrequent smile lighted for a brief moment of pleasure in his eyes. “I could go—perhaps,” he admitted. “I’ll see how things are in a week's time I'd enjoy a day with Elliot Parr.” Old Hannah, stepped into the H - ; . way and announced dinner. An hour before sunset the sky had been overcast,, with a purple caravan of thunderheads m the west; the thrumming of insects and the humid, flower smell of the air presaged rain. On a grassy hilltop ten miles eastward from the Castle, Autumn dismounted from her horse and let the animal graze while she stood and looked into the valley below On the slopes that streamed into the valley like smooth reddish cascades in the low sun. more than seven thousand head of'sheep moved in bands, twelve hundred to a band. At dawn the herders had started them from home on the trek up into the mountains to the very margins of the eternal snows, in the relentless, lonely quest for grass. Now. from the hillside directly opposite her across the little valley, a crow s flight half-mile away, came the limpidly sweet note of a bell It seemed to Autumn that the sound was almost visible, floating like some silver bubble within that rosy dome of silence, lingering and vanishing into the infinity whence it had come It was the note of the Basque bell. A fancy had seized her that morning while she had watched her father's men preparing for their departure. Only a week before, there had come to the ranch a youth of nineteen or twenty whose appearance had been so bizarre that the Willmar children had gathered around him with frank curiosity. He had come from the soda mines up north, and was seeking employment as a herder. He was slight of build, not over medium height, and on the back of his head he had worn a shapeless homespun cap, set so that a twine-colored mop of hair started out abruptly from beneath its peak He had worn a short, tight-fitting coat, a jerkin, Autumn had supposed it was, also homespun and of a faded pea-green, so incommodious in the sleeves that the red joints of his wrists stuck painfully out from be-

neath them. Under the jacket he had worn a checked shirt and where the jacket gaped aside, suspenders of a brilliant green drew his threadbare trousers almost up to his armpits, leaving his bare shins exposed. He had worn hobnailed boots, and had carried a birch stick over his shoulder, at the end of which a graybundle had been securely lashed. The Laird out of the kindness of his heart, and probably a whimsical humor, had given him employment as old Absolom’s helper. His name, they had discovered, was Clancy Shane, but Jarvis Dean had jocularly nicknamed him “Moony.” On a sudden impulse. Autumn had gone back into the house and brought out the Basque bell. She had entrusted it to the keeping of Clancy Shane, who had secured it to the wether of his flock. And now, from the opposite hillside, came the pure sound of the bell, singularly innocent across, the hollow distance. The sound turned her thoughts again to Bruce Landor, who had scarcely been out of her mind during the past week. She thougnt of their meeting at Hector Cardigan's, when she had gone to fetch home the bell, and of her telling him about Hector's conceit concerning it. There was something in the sound of the bell now that brought the lovely wraith of her mother before her out of the nebulous glamor of the past. This had been Millicent Odell’s world, the world of the pioneers and the subtle architects of empire, and now in turn it was her world. Suddenly she was glad, glad with all her heart that she was back-home where life had meaning, where life was a profound harmony: She pulled a bit of bloom off a sage bush and began to pick it to pieces with her fingers. There had come upon her a revelation that dismayed, frightened and exalted her. She stood for a moment looking down mto the valley where the shadows were beginning to deepen, then, impetuously flinging away the shrub which she held, she mounted her horse : again and rode westward toward the Landor ranch. Bruce Landor sat before the rough plank table in the herder’s cabin in the ravine. The place was deserted now, the men having gone to the hills the previous day. The lamp stood lighted on the table before him. He had put the place in order and was ready at last to leave for home. He drew together the papers on which he had been idly speculating, making estimates of his returns from the season’s shearing, and noting the increase over last year’s gains. The season had begun auspiciously. He swung quick ly about in his chair as a slight sound came to him from the door. Autumn Dean stood there in her black riding habit, a russet scarf at her throat, the dim light casting little facets on her brown leather boots. Her hat was in her hand, and her hair had blown free. Her face was a glowing cameo against the outer darkness. “Am I intruding?’’ she asked, entering almost hesitatingly. “One of your men told me I should find you here.” Bruce got up hurriedly and drew out the other chair. A flush had mounted to his brows, and as he stood for a moment uncertainly before her. he drew his hand diffidently back across his hair. “You certainly aren't intruding,-’’ he said. “I was just wasting time — with figures. But wherever did you come from?" She seated herself and tossed her hat upon the table. “Out in the hills,” she said. “We had an early dinner, and I took a ride opt for a look at the sheep. The men left for the- range this morning. The evening was so soft and cool- 1 just couldn’t go indoors. I came deliberately to see you after I got back. You see—l’m a bold woman, Bruce!” "I'm gl-ad you are! I’ve been as lonely as hell tonight. With the men all. gone—” “Loneliness is in the air, I guess. The sound of that darn bell did for me.” “Bell?” “That bell I got from Hector, you know. I gave it to a young Irish lad that lather hired last week.” “You mean you sent that Basque bell of Hector’s into the hills? You’d better not tell Hector that.” “Oh, I don't know. I think Hector would understand. That bell wasn't meant to hang in a drawing room.” “But it's such a precious thing—out on the range all summer—” “It w’ill come back. It’s charmed. Anyhow—l like the idea.” Bruce lit a cigarette and Autumn, watching him, thought how wellshaped arid brown his hands were. “May I have one?” she asked. “Sorry,” he apologized. “You see, in spite of myself. I still think of you as the little schoolgirl I used to know’.” “The one you fought for?” she asked as she accepted a light. “The same,” he replied. “You’ll have to get over that, Bruce,” she told him. “I’m very much grown up.” “Perhaps I'm afraid of getting over it,” he said bluntly. “Why?“Because —as a woman you’ve been in my mind constantly ever since I saw you again that first night.” Bruce leaned forward slightly and looked directly into her eyes. Her glance fell slowly, and a line of quick pain appeared between her brows. “And that frightens you Bruce?” (IO BE CO\II\LED)

Household News

Tempting tarts are grand for party refreshments or a family meal. See Recipe Below.

Perfection in Pies

There’s something about a piece of really good pie, with its flaky, golden-brown crust and a filling simply oozing flavor and goodness,

the first touch, Whets the appetite; and one glance at a slice of dainty chiffon pie, with its feather-light filling, is enough to make even a strong-whiled calorie-counter forget his diet! Making pics that achieve perfection isn’t as difficult as it sounds. Standardized equipment (such as measuring cups and spoons) and oven thermometers and heat control have taken the uncertainty out of measuring and baking. With a proven recipe, good ingredients, standard equipment and some easily acquired technique, any Woman can make good pie and make it every time! Pointers on Making Pastry. 1. Unless you are making hot water pastry, have the ingredients for making pie crust cold. 2. Cut shortening into the flour, using a pastry blender or fork; or, if you’re an experienced cook, and work quickly, blending in the shortening with.lingers is permissible. 3. Add water sparingly, using only enough to hold the ingredients together. Handle dough as little and as lightly as possible after adding water. 4. Holl out the dough on a lightly floured board or on a .heavy canvas. Cover the rolling pin with a child's while cotton stocking (with the foot cut off) and flouring it lightly simplifies handling the dough. ” 5. Place the dough loosely in the pan to help prevent shrinking. Grandmother’s Sour Cream Pie. 1 cup raisins (coarsely cut) ’.2 cup water : j cup sugar 1 cup sour cream 2 eggs (beaten) 1 teaspoon vanilla U teaspoon salt Pastry Combine /raisins, water, and sue ar, and simmer for 5 minutes. Mix the sour cream and the egg.-, add the stewed raisins, vanilla and salt. Bake in a double crust at 400 degrees for the first .10 minutes, reducing the temperature to 350 de grees for 40 minutes longer. Lemon Meringue Pie. 1 cup sugar lz 4 cup cornstarch 1 i teaspoon salt A’ ;1 cup cold wafer -a cup boiling water 3 egg yolks 1 tablespoon butter ’ i cup lemon juice 1 teaspoon grated lemon rind Combine sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Add cold water and stir until

smooth. Then add boiling water and coo k, stirring constantly, until mixture is clear and thick. Cook 3 minutes longer. Beat egg yolks and stir cooked

mixture into them. Add all remaining ingredients, return to flame and cook 1 minute. Pour immediately into baked pie shell. Top with meringue. - - Meringue. 3 egg whites 6 tablespoons sugar ’,B teaspoon salt Beat egg whites partially; then add sugar slowly,.beating until mixture is stiff. Bake in slow oven (300 degrees) for 18 minutes. Flaky Pie Crust. (Makes 2 pie shells) IV2 cups flour Vz teaspoon salt r 2 cup shortening 3 to 4 tablespoons ice water Sift flour and salt into mixing bowl. Add shortening. Chill 20 to 30 minutes, then cut in the shortening until it is about the size of peas.

that makes it the crowning glory of a meal. Just a whiff of the fragrance of a juicy apple pie, or the sight of a quivery custard in a crust that crumbles at

by Eleanor Howe

Add ice water gradually, mixing only until the dough can be gathered up into a ball. Chill at least Vs hour. Roll out on a piece of canvas cloth which has been stretched taut over dampened table-top or bread board. Slip child’s white stocking (without foot) over rolling pin, flour canvas and rolling pin, and roll out dough to Vs-inch thickness. Fit lower crust in pie tin. If baking a onecrust pie, prick with fork, and bake in hot oven (450 degrees) 12 to 15 minutes. Pumpkin Chiffon Pie. (Makes one 10-inch pie) 2 tablespoons gelatin *4 cup cold water 3 eggs 1 cup sugar I'a cups pumpkin (strained) ’2 cup milk l 2 teaspoon salt ’2 teaspoon ginger ‘2 teaspoon cinnamon *4 teaspoon nutmeg hi teaspoon clove Soak gelatin in cold water for 5 minutes. Separate yolks and whites of eggs: Beat yolks until light, and combine with half of the sugar, the strained pumpkin, milk, salt, and spices. Cook over hot water until the mixture thickens, stirring constantly. Remove from fire, add gelatin, and stir until dissolved. Cool. When the mixture thickens, beat the egg whites until stiff but not dry, and gradually beat in the remaining sugar. Fold into the pumpkin. Pour into baked pie shell and chill thoroughly before/serving. May be served-With whipped cream generously sprinkled with ginger-snap crumbs. Magic Mocha Nut Taits. 2 squares unsweetened chocolate 1’.3 cupsi (1 can) sweetened condensed 1 milk ’•2 cup strong coffee 1 cup walnut meats (cut fine) Baked tart shells Melt chocolate in top of double boiler. Add sweetened condensed

milk, and stir over boiling water for 5 minutes or until mixture thickens. A d d coffee, stir until thoroughly blended. Add chopped*

walnut meats.- Pour into baked tart shells. Garnish with remaining chopped nuts. Chill before serving Custard I’ie. ' (Makes 1 pie) 2 cup: milk (scalded) 3 eggs 5 tablespoor s ■ war G teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Dash nutmeg 1 pastry shejl (baked) Scald -milk. Beat eggs slightly and to them add the sugar, salt, mnk, and vanilla extract. Mix thoroughly anif 1 ' pour custard mixture into a well oiled pie plate.. Bake in a slow oven (300 degrees) until custard is setk-about 40 minutes. In a second pie plate, exactly the same size as that used for the custard pie,',bake a* one-crust pastry shell; Cool. Thqn- when the custard is, thoroughly, cooled 'and just before serving, gently slip the custard right into the pastry shell. Serve at once.

If there’s any one thing in the world thaffpeople like m the way of good things to eat. it’s nothing more or less than hot breads. Hot breads get a man’s vote every time! Ginger Cheese Muffins, Hot Butterscotch Rolls, Old-Fash-ioned Nut and Raisin Bread—you’ll find recipes for these and other delicious breads in Eleanor Howe's column next week.

Send for Copy of This Cook Book.

Entertaining is lots of fun if you start with what Eleanor Howe calls ‘arm chair preparation.” In her unusual and useful cook book, “Easy Entertaining,” she tells you how to give successful parties--from picnics to formal receptions. To get your copy of this clever cook book now, send 10 cents in coin to “Easy Entertaining.-” care of Eleanor Howe, 919. North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois. (Released by Western Newspaper Union.)