Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 39, Number 116, 26 March 1914 — Page 8

PAGE EIGHT

THE RICHMOND PALLADIUM AND SUN-TELEGRAM, THURSDAY, MARCH 26, 1914

Married Life the Third Year

"Hold up there, George," ordered Warren. "Let me ask this man." The driver sloped doVn the car and Warren called out. "How do we get to the White j Plains road?" j "Third turn to the left and the first j to the right. That'll bring you out i to the main road." "They ought to have more signs on these roads," complained Mr. Reed. ( "It's so blame dark you couldn't see them." growled Warren. "Do I turn here, sir?" asked George a few moments later. "That looks pretty narrow," answered Mr. Reed doubtfully, "think that's the road?" "Of course, that's the road, insisted Warren. "This is the third turn to the left." The chauffeur turned, but as they drove on, even in the darkness they could see the road was but little traveled. . 'I think we're wrong." persisted Mr. Reed. "Don't believe this is the road." r "We can't be wrong." barren asserted positively. "But, dear, this is awfully rough, ventured Helen as they jolted over one stone after another. "Let's ask the next person we meet." But thev met no one to ak. Now and then "a light glimmered through the trees from some distant farm house, but there were no houses along the road itself. They finally came to another crossroad. "Here you are," announced Warren. "He said first turn to the right." "But this isn't the main road," protested Mr. Reed. "I think you're wrong we ought to go back." Rut Warren stubbornly contended that, this was right. Helen peered anxiously ahead. She knew It was late. It had been almost 10 when they left th? road house where they had dined. Oh. why had Warren insisted that they try a different road coming back? Mr. Reed had not wanted to come this way, and now already they had. been wandering around for over an hour, trying to find the road. "What's that ahead of us, George?" demanded Mr. Reed, as they finally caucht sight of a faint jogging light. "I can't tell you. sir." Ti,, o c thev drew nearer they saw

it was two men with a lantern. . "Does this lead out to the White Plains road?" called Mr. Reed. "The White Plains road? Why, tou ain't going the right way for that. This leads to the old Meadowfied road." .Mr. Reed muttered something under his breath, and Warren asked sharply: "But we can get to New York this wav, can't we?" "No. sir; you're going straight away from New York." Helen felt her cheeks grow hot. So Warren had been wrong. They had come all this distance out of the way because he had been. too obstinate to admit he was mistaken. Now, as they turned back, he was sullenly silent. 'Go back slowly along here, George." warned Mr. Reed, as the machine bumped heavily along the uneven road. "Pretty hard road on the car." This added to Helen's discomfort. She shrank from the thought that they hart been the cause of needless wear and tear on Mr. Reed's car. She was always sensitive about the use of other people's property. The whole situation was becoming to her keenly huimliating. At lasr they came out on the right road, and by" this time it was after midnight and they were still a long way from home. "Your lights are out again, George." warned Mr. Reed, and for the third time the chauffeur got out to light up. The night air had grown damp and chilly. Helen drew the lap robe closer about her. I'm afraid you're cold. Mrs. Curtis. George, see if there isn't another coat under the seat." Mr. Reed wrapped Helen in the coat. It was always someone else, never Warren, she thought bitterly who was solicitous about her comfor. Thev crossed a bridge now and were in the outskirts of the city. Twenty minutes after one was the time by an illuminated tower-clock. Suddenly a snorting motorcycle dashed up from behind, turned and darted almost in front of their car. "Stop your car," ordered the man. Without even glancing toward them he jumped off his cycle, drew out a

note book and began questioning the driver. Helen could not hear what he said,

but he was taking the chauffeur's name and license number. So they were being arrested for speeding. Rapidly filling out a blank he hand

ed It to George with a gruff:

"You re to appear in the One Hun

dred and Twenty-fifth street court to

morrow at 10 o'clock." Still without deigning a word or glance toward Mr. Reed or Warren, he jumped on his motorcycle and was gone. "But we wern't going very fast," ventured Helen timidly, wondering

why they had not said a word nor!

made the slightest protest. "No use arguing with those fellows," said Mr. Reed. "Best way is to go to court and take your medicine." "And will they fine you much?" she asked anxiously. Mr. Reed shrugged his shoulders. "Ten or twenty dollars." Ten or twenty dollars! And this extra expense, too, had been their fault. If they had not lost so much time going out of the way they would not have been running so fast. For a moment she wished Warren would offer to pay the fine it would lesson her sense of obligation. But then she realized how strange that would look. They were Mr. Reed's guests and he must bear whatever expense the trip incurred. Here George drew the car up suddenly and jumped out. "What's the matter?" asked Mr. Reed. "Lights out again?" "No, sir," examining the gasoline tank. "There's no gasoline." "No gasoline! Great heavens, have we driven that much?" Mr. Reed was out peering into the tank. "By jove, we're in a fix." Just then a policeman came up, swinging his club. "Where's the nearest, place to get gasoline?" demanded Mr. Reed. "Sullivan's six blocks up. That's about the only place open now." There was nothing to do but for the

chauffeur to go after it, and in gloomy silence they settled back to wait. They would have had plenty of gasoline, thought Helen wretchedly if

only they had not gone out of the way. And yet Warren did not seem to realize that it was all his fault. Would they ever get home? She was so tired and sleepy she could have cried. "Time for hi mto be getting back," said Warren finally, lighting another cigar. "Shouldn't take him more than twenty minutes." Mr. Reed glanced at his watch, but made no comment. Helen felt that he was silent only because he was thoroughly angry and out of patience. Mr. Reed had gotten out of the car and was walking up and down. But at last they saw George trudging back, carrying a large can. "That place was shut up. Had to go over to Amsterda mavenue," he announced sullenly, as he poured the gasoline into the tank. Mr. Reed stood by watching him, but made no comment. The trip had worn out and irritated them all, and he had taken refuge in a guarded silence. Once more the chauffeur cranked up the machine, and once more they started off. But to Helen's horror the car soon stopped again. "What's the matter now?" asked Mr. Reed, and Helen could feel the controlled wrath in his voice. "Don't know, sir," answered George, as he took out his tools. Then both Warren and Mr. Reed got out and began looking the machine over. Helen was huddled up in the wide back seat alone, almost too wretched to care what happened. "See here, Curtis," said Mr. Reed suddenly. "You'd better take Mrs. Curtis and go home. I think there's something wrong with that gasoline. Don't know when we'll get off. You

can get the subway about five block! from here." "But I donJt like to leave you this way, old man," objected Warren. "That's all right. There's no use keeping Mrs. Curtis up any longer. Afraid it's been a pretty hard trip on her. Sorry we had such a night of it and that I can't get you home." After a few more protests. Warren helped Helen out of the machine and they started off. And Helen felt that Mr. Reed was glad to have them go. They kept looking back, hoping the machine might start. But so long as they could see, it was still standing by the roadside. "Well, if I had a car I'd see that I had enough gasoline before I started out," growled Warren. "I'll not want to take another trip with Reed soon. If he's that careless he might get us stranded anywhere." Helen looked up in amazement. She was used to Warren's never admitting that he was at fault. But that he should blame Mr. Reed for this! Tired and wretched as she was she had a hysterical desire to laugh.

Do You Dance For Art Sake Or For Fun?

Do you dance for the sake of art or for fun? The question as to whether a dancing party is given to entertain the guests or to exploit the terspichorean art seems to be paramount with Richmond chaperones or other dancing censors, who have objected to the new "dip" dances. If perfection in the art were the prime aim in dancing, then the new dances would be barred by most of the dancers, but since it is fun to be got out of the amusement that most dancers are seeking, the popularity of

the new steps is not likely to wane immediately. "This dance controversy makes me think," said a society woman yester-

i day. "Of the old idea that we used to

entertain that children should be made to walk along the street and in their homes with all the dignity of their elders. 'You must be a little lady' is what I heard from my grandmother from the time I was old enough to understand, and wanted to run and jump. And I remember still how hard it was to be 'a little lady.' Now we know that we must let our children run and jump and scream and play. It is the natural instinct and the proper exercise whereby they grow. Now we dont' try to retard all those childish impulses.. Depend on Point of View. "Just so I think it is with these dances. It is natural for most persons

to love rythm; psychologists tell us It Is a God-given Instinct, which man tries to express in various forms, of which dancin g is one of the most delightful. "Now, of course, the men and women who have never danced or at least who have not danced for many years, can't quite long for the same active exercise as do those dancers who have grown tired of the continuous round of waltzes and two-steps that have been the only dances on the program for some years. "I can't see any harm in the new dances, and if the girls are awkward it's only because the dances are new and they haven't learned to do them Just right." Another staunch supporter of the new dances recalled the tales told by her mother of the horror with which the first round dances were received. "Mother says she was not allowed

to go to a dance for a whole year A4 1 A I M - . M '

aitt-i waiuiug came into lasuioo, ior dear grandmother thought she would go straight to perdition if she allowed every man in the ball room to put his arms around her. And grandmother tells how in her young days they laughed at the girla who were trying to learn the deep courtesy In the minuet. I can't see where the difference is, whether you bertd your knees one

way in the minuet, or another way in i

the new dances. Masculine View.

"I tell you why I don't approve of the new dances," said a man yesterday in discussing the subject, "and that is because I don't any more than learn one when a new one gets to be the rage. I can't keep up with them. I've danced for many years, and I went through the stage of .the Oxford minuet, the aurora, the barn dance, the rye waltz and all the rest of the dances as they came and went, but they stayed with us long enough to really enjoy them. These dances now are in such an experimental stage that a man doesn't know just what is going to happen next." "A dancing party these days," said another man, "makes me think of a

GIRL, 21, ADMITTED TO LAW PRACTICE

WINCHESTER, March 26. The first woman to be admitted to law practice in Randolph county is Miss Louie Sh reeve 21, daughter of Jacob Shreeve, of Union City. Miss Shreeve was admitted, to the bar Saturday afternoon in circuit court when Judge James S. Engle granted her petition. Miss Shreeve is well known.

church concert in a small town, where every man and woman on the pro

gram, no matter how untrained the , voice, tries to sing a grand opera selection. That's just what all this dancing is. The amateurs are trying to imitate the trained professionals, and they succeed Just about as well as the girl who thinks she can sing J the 'Jewel Song' from 'Faust' just be-j cause she has taken five lessons from j a woman who once heard a phom ! graph record of the song by a famous singer. "You can't drag me to another dance ;

we will have settled down to a few sane, learnable dances that everybody will do in the same fashion, and then I will try them, but I refuse to be in on the experiments of the present ball room."

7

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