Evening Star Newspaper, January 30, 1921, Page 62

THROUGH HELL FOR HIM shaggy eyebrows— | able to somebody's blunder. ! hig Father's—nis ki blue eyes were matter with the old man today. she had stood by him, he says, If e “I know you're not,” she snapped.|getic and constantly “You're only accustomed to highballs | gradually becoming more presentable THE SUNDAY STAR, JANUARY 30, 192I—PART 4 A New Story by Wallace Irwin in an untidy little. valley between Los Angeles and Pasadena. Dripping palms, dngpln‘ pepper trees, and ri' ers of adobe mud were all the details of landscape she comprehended. The agent told her it would be paradise in They went to Los Angeles next day \r-| husbana. to hawk the last remnant of their iad Ethel taken the unpromising looked,. so the murse sald, more her mether than her father. nate: but E young maternity. This would mean , flercer grinding for her, one SGEH of the world's happiness) The soft lines of his mouth had taken} Ethel, now well drawn into the story.| trying to put offended di into his| Soon the medical advice proved it-| He leaned ov BB pring: 1t was the reverse now.|more to feed, one more burden ta% 'and misery is directly trace- | & downward droop, and under the| “She was. And that's whats the|poor Soice. snity 8] g1t or Wiifred, happy, alnost, eher-| moyed ey Ver to kiss her, but she | g1 T8 allea old Alky's text about a It was but an added drop to 3 athetically like was woman going through hell for her carry. her already full c"f of sorrow. But with poor Wilfred it was other. //One of the Fates, womanlike, | rimmed with red. could have financed himself for a fresh|and y who'l in appearance than Ethel had ev. wi ! 3 or a fresh | and a lot of jolly fcols who'll stick by 1 h er | finery. ¥Here again the impulse to run ise. Joses hef measuring-stick, or another P start. But what she did was to trump | you and tell you how perfect you are | Seen him during their pecullar inti-| away 'Wiifred came and tempted | home in hand and turned it into a|of dreams. He learned to carry the ; ; model bower of simple comfort—as|baby the way the nurse—who only ‘misplades her scissors; some one’s for- turie is ¢ut too long or too short, and hence gne suffers while another re- Joices- i Jove, too, may nod 1in mis Olympfan easy-chair, permitting the brat Cupid to carry notes between Ve- nus and mortal man, thus breeding deathless love. and Trojan wars and no end of pretty curses for the world. Now, Alcis J. Bowdin—familiary known @8 ‘Alky” behind his straight back-—owned or manipulated as many beefs ateers as Abranam had sheep. I hir youth he had come across the ~nntinent with long-horned, long-leg- ged specimens consigned to the stock- Yards; his six-shooter and his wit had been equally quick-triggered. That was how he had gotten along and up in the world. Few people had ever put anything over on Alcis J. Bow- din—which places him in & peculiarly Vulnerable position, you might say, as regards the activites of the three i &(DICTAT[O.\' . he commanded, throwing himself into a chair beside her. And before she could open her notebook: “Simeon J. Crossdick, Crossdick and Cannon, Boston. Yours of the 15th received and would say ;n ;c Omaha purchase of September 2th—" He paused and rubbed his forehead. s there any reason why the old man should put things like that up to me? Is he some sort of supreme be- | ing that he should look through the skylight and tell me when and where and how to find my wife.”” He paused again. Miss Cary’s busy pencil was again at her notebook. “What have you put down?" he ask- ed as soon as she had paused for fur- ther dictation. ““ ‘Simeon J. Crossdick, Crossdick and Cannon, Boston,’ " she read in the im- personal voice of the stenographer. Yours of .the 15th received, and tes. Surely old Alky shouldn’t have sus- pected Ethel Cray. He had always believed in handling a yearling with a long rope, and he had glven consid- erable latitude of action to his rather delicate Harvard-bred son, who inci- dentally had spent four years under the Cambridge elms and returned to the streets of Manhattan with no let- ters after his name. If Wilfred want- ed a Japanese valet or a racing mono- plane or a pretty private secretary, they were his to command, provided ‘Wiifred never overleaped his generous allowance. From this we. must not infer that Mr. Bowdin was an easy boss, even in his son’s case. But how many eyes Has a spider, and how much attention had the energetic cat- tle baron to give to the one individual whu was to inherit mightily from him, fool of him in his s e moments of confldence, 7if he don’t cut himself on his own wire.’ Ethel Cray earned every cent she got in Wilfred's small offices, adjoin- ing the plutocrat tablishment over which old Alky presided. Her busi- ness was to assist Wilfred, to take his dictation, keep his files, run his errands. She was possessed of consid- erable personal charm, which was surely not her fault. Her brown hair had a touch of red in it suggesting fire in a brush heap. She had a fine yale skin.and eyes which were some- thing more than handsome; they were Possessed of great intelligence. Most of the girls round the office thought them cold. Perhaps they were right in this thought, for Ethel Cray, at Jeast to outward seeming, was not susceptible. She might have been, as some suspected, eaten with ambition. up a divorce and leave him flat. He o long as your morey holds out. What took to loafing round Chicago, bor-}you need is just the sort of woman rowing where he could, drinking other | your father described—if you can find people’s liquor and going downhill on | one who'll take that much pains with all fours. much of a bum. “It seems that he was nearly forty and had hit zero as far as credit or|regular man I hate to say that of theiyou. boss, but I guess from what he told'ln your life. me that he must have become pretty You've never done & useful thing T'm through. I'm going to work a regular office for a regular—' She was going to say, of course, “a but even her rage of reputation were concerned, when he } truth wouldn’t permit that. There fell H met the widow of a Nevada mining She was broke, too, but hard in her|an insult would have been. “Ethel,” he said in a tone which was| man. luck hadn't spirit—- made a nick dead?” mother. 5 “Eleven years now. kind that puts life into a man. “How long. has your mother been asked Ethel, "knowing that Wilfred had been- speaking o1 his an embarrassing silence. When he spoke, it was more astonishing than melancholy, hurt and gentle, * think you care to—to try?" “Try what She looked at him in amazement. ‘She. was the| This was truly sudden. She | “I—I care an awful lot about yo sobered dad up, and after they were ! he declared in his lisping tone. *‘I—I—- married she got in a small packing concern. thing she im some sort of job| But the, him up sharply. insisted on was that hel should go back to Wyoming, as helro“’ “Don’'t talk nonsense!" she brought “Five minutes ago you wanted to marry an actress. And u've the nerve to talk this way o m It was a luxury for her to be thus lscolding the high and mighty. { _“All right,” he conceded meekly. (*Where did I leave off that letter?™ { Ethel picked up her shorthand book. | «‘Stmeon J. Comstock, Crossdick & ,Cannon, Boston. Yours of the 15th { received and would say in re Omaha | purchase ot September 12th— 2]! She heard him mumbling the next ‘sentence of the letter. but her eyes i{) were filmy, her throat filling with a {hysterical, unreasonable desire to cry. Suddenly she threw down her book, land, rising, charged toward the littie Iroom where her coat and hat were hung. | “Ethel lived through the next week in and out of her little flat, which was two flights over a delicatessen store in Brooklyn. Almost the moment after her impetuous flight from bond- age in the great offices of Alcis J. Bowdin_& Son, she had realized her macy. He was wonderfully patient with her—too patient, she thought in her moments of boredom. If he would only fly into a fit or rage now and then, chide her thriftlessness, able. Her marriage to Wilfred had been a cold bargain, and she was determined to make the most of it. extravagance, pent up during those hard, grinding years, was now given Luxury-mad as some par- she had glutted her appetite for clothes before they left She had revived that ap- petite in San Francisco and plunged again into a dressmaker's saturnalia; nd from the latter city they had mo- tored south in a newly purchased mo- tor car. That surly animal Alcis J. Bowdin had thrust a magnificent peari| h necklace at her as a wedding present. But in San Francisco she had found one she liked better—principally be- full head. venu _Cleopatra, New York. folly. She had crossed her Rubjcon and found poor picking indeed on the other side. She had seen the useleas- ness of applying to the Bowdins for a recommendation, and without it there was to be found nothing comparable with the berth she had just left. During foot-tired intervals between hard necessity gave her thoughts a calculating turn. That pathetic little wretch Wilfred had as good as pro- posed to her! What .couldn’t she do with the Bowdin money? Clerkly gos- sip had hinted that the Bowdins were not 80 well off as they pretended, that old Alky's passion for plunging had more than once brought their affairs to the verge of embarrassment. How- ever, they kept up a mighty show, maintained a btg house in town, two or three in the country snd drove a fleet of motor cars. Wilfred belonged to good clubs, owned horses and sta- job hunts she had time to think, and | Her natural tter his jealousy as other husbands did. His subservience was quite unfashion- her. It would be easy enough to catch a train for San Francisco during one of her expeditions of unwilling sales- manship. But it was while she was alone in the hotel sitting-room, consulting a time table, that neglected conscience stole in and got in its word: “And now he’s found something human, some- thing he can bank on, a woman who isnt afraid to tell him his middle name.” The words of old Alky on the day she had made her bargain came ringing at her ears. After all it wasn't a matter between her and Wilfred; it was the bargain she had made with Alcis Bowdin and the woman who had died for him to make him strong. She pald a porter to t her bag back to the room, and now full of a ard, dry courage, she went &t it again to salvage w! she could from the wreck of their fortunes. Ethel had to conduot most of the she had read of heroines doing under similar circumstances—she might have ferried over the slough of despond and come out cheerfully upon the green pastures beyond. But she had been poorly trained in housekeeping. More- over, her condition did not permit any prolonged physical exertion. There were thres ‘rooma n the bungalow. Separat y raer in, knot-holed par- titions. Wilfred had his own sick- root in the relics of what had been a dining room, it was an orgy of shoddy secondhand furnmiture, Ethel slept on s flimsy couch at night, and during the weary dark days she sat in this chaos and tried to mend. The from a leak In the kersosens stove and continual drip from the unmend- ed roof, she hated most of al Here she made a miserable farce of wash- ing the family clothes in a damaged sinc tub. The life w a nightmare. kitchen, with its bare floor greasy | bo! lingered two days—had shown him. “Eyes like her mother’s,” he kept :{l‘:fi' his homely face beaming his » t He seemed to walk in a land . ‘ \ : He made pathetic attempts to re- : y Ethel for her !ong sacrifice. Hia | version of had-making brought to her . the first real smile she hw‘u‘: 1ged : since the big rain bogve. urse ! shown him how ts Srepare in valid’s food, and he aM it surprising. 1y well. ‘writer, M He puffed up in a roaring roadste: and announced that he had seen th birth notice ‘m the paper and was s tent upon inspecting the fluh: rn. “I'm sorry I mot behind with my 3 pay.” he announced before leaving. o Ethel, you may be: sure.- had - forgotten that he owed her something® like $20, and so she was grateful.Q But after he had 70“ she counted.s over the pile of bills on the tabla and Teallzed. with trembling lipa that the queer. cruel-looking man-j had overpaid her $80. She might have returned it, but she understood the chivalrous gaucherie and clumsy 3 understanding that had prompted the s ift. There was some one who un--= erstood, and she wept for the first's time since the day of her wedding. .. Early in March the sun came out and claimed his world again. The= real estate dealer, on that sloppy, desolate day .when she had taken tha bungalow, had declared that the val- 2 ley would be paradise in the spring. For the first time she seemed to be gazing with eyes full open. All the= surrounding hills, Aladdin mounds ot emerald. gleamed and gleamed. shoot- ing green rays back to the hot life- giver whom some peoples—small wonder—have worshiped. Down in the valley swift streams, already de- { creasing. gurgled. A meadow lark, short-tailed and heaven-winged, shot recklessly upward, sweetening the alr with his wildly happy thrill. California spring' A squat China- man, with a seedy hat and two ba: kets swung on a long pole, jogged merrily by, chanting in falsetto. And inside the bungalow Ethel could hear the drone-droning of a harsh male, voice: Bye, bye-lo, bay-bee. Bye. bye-lo, bay-hee— 1t was monotonous, patient, quite without tune, almost without time. She zazed through the porch window and saw Wiifred rocking back lnld forth the little bundle against h's chest. His rugged little face, again gaining in color, was turned toward the sleeping child, and she could se written there the love she had neve! ziven never given hia babvy What hells thev had been through What stygian tempests had battered them back and forth, days without nights without stars! How bles, entertained right royally. Another letter from Bob added to her depression, drove her thoughts into forbidden paths. Because he wrote uncheerily she was alarmed, for Bob was not the whining so:t. But he in- timated, in a few terse words, that he was thinking of giving up college for a year or so until he could earn a little for himeelf and go back, self- supporting and self-respecting, as a man should. He was already ty- ‘lour years old, almost Wilfre gladness, they had fought for life. bound tos gether by the inseparable cords pride and custom! Fthel came suddenly to her feet and rushed into the cluttered room. “My dear!” she whispered, 2nd sink- ing to her knees, embraced the wom- an-child and the child-man who wers equally in her care. “What is it, honey?” ha asked, his voice grown still and husky as he put hir rousrh cheek against he “I've besn bad, bad!" she told him, then cried and cried. z You've been an angel Do angels live through hell, winging from the pit, their golden ' crowns unblackened. their godly pen- sons unsinged by mocking fires? - “I wanted to help!” she said wildly over and over, “I tried—and oh, how I hated it!” know, dea he said solemnly. alized what a burden 1 was 10 * % ¥ % ECRETLY she rather despised her employer, Wilfred Bowdin, seeing in him the second gemeration of a quickly made fortune, a princeling made to order and destined to squan- der the millions which Alcis J. Bow- din had accumulated, as rumor had it, at the point of a gun. There was something pathetic about Wilfred, she admitted. He had nice eyes, but his look was usually one of puzzlement at the business which his father had thrust upon him merely that his son might appear to be occupied. He was a dissipated cub, too, given to boast- ing of highballs and conquests, equal- 1 to his naturally frail s age. Two years of delay would cripple him terribly in his career. She laid the matter before her room- mate, Judy Allen. Judy was a slivery, hard spinster with amber-rimmed spectacles, 2 hank of faded hair and the awful square-heeled shoes satir- ically called “common-sense.” en y Ethel told her about Wilfred's talk constitution. Seeing him day after S S B! with his father and his subsequent day in a relation which she endeavor- | 5 i 4 5 hardened her little color- ed "n".‘fi‘".n'"'u‘?-'.: &M%Uy‘mnl- 3 3 jless eyes and said: ness ‘she re: e dep! o ou fool! Why didn't you sccept his ignorasice, which was sublime, like BAT ThoeRed b ethereal s between the planets. ‘In the first place,” responded Ethel, He had beén over a year in his dummy can’t bear him. In the second place office, pretending to be absorbed in —well, I'm pretty human, I suppose. affairs; yet Ethel was an hourly wit- And you've got to love a man a lot to went to go through hell for him. A few days later Ethel found a card his inadequacy. And some- times she wished that the poor child wouldn't prattle so, boring her with shoved under her door. It was nicely engraved, “Mr. Wilfred Bowdin,” but the romance lay in what was scribbled confidences which any intelligent adult on the reverse side. HIS FACE TERRIBLY DIS- — TORTED. “BUSTED!” HE CHOKED. o . 7 I think that's why I love you so— now.” - That was all she said, and lay nes- tling for a long time against her child and her man. = cause it had cost her more—and she| transactions, because Wilfred moved| Wilfred slept very poorly, and week ‘had traded her father-in-]a gift in| in a daze. She was afraid he would [in and week out she read to him part payment for her heart's degire|begin drinking again, but he, too, was joften until after midnight. She hated ere théy took their golden way to-| keeping his share of the contract | the trashy novels that interested him. ward Coronado and wilder extrava-| Their business was settled in a week.|A woman in love might have endured P hiorn or shicr congton| Totlle SHLAL STAUST S, 2R wngat 8 i Jnovis, o : s r athetic surplus— - |sacrifice. But that was the curious v c guide—and who in orean o Boar s Sedate way of liv- | Ing. for a dark and doubtfal future.|thing sbout Ethel. = The more she| AN, Sy nusEeic/Ee He rested most of the afternopn husias- should have consi@éred sacred. They were debating the advisability |gave, the more sentment grew. Los Angeles is not ag ent| 'One morning in-Inte Novemiber nhe G Tt ed 0N O eRt Bl 10 | of moving east and Jolning forces With | Eror honbamn oncasloncl moments of {tic gulde?—will point out to you the Stodd te Wiliréd's Sice AINIES dany ' (he Toverse alde. o wouldn't hive | Bthel he wis an easy boss: this 1o the Bowdin misfortunes when a tele- | tengerness were unpicasant fo her.|pretty white house on the hill, a spot- said & word if I hadn’t cared so much, | her was his saving grace. ‘When will you let me see you?’ cellent clothes, which she '::url;}:ll' letters. when Mr. Bowdin the elder gram came forwarded from Coronado.|Had sh 3! as itively to blame came in, his hat on his head, the mink ? Your fath . C ¢ once. | for zm:d'}fi:vha":ucunm, ‘l‘;er:i‘htb 1ame |less patch amons shaggy eucalyptl. collar of his overcoat thrown back Hard. mercenary temptation sgein|she was easily the most our.1s ""‘;T'Yu-cug;!;a&“ - | been 'a degree less discouraging. But |sleek-leaved, golden-bulbed orange '’ entered her soul, held sway over her| woman st the resort—too beautiful, 'STU. 3 o trees climbing the slope. You will ad- . brain. Hell with & butler at the door, mo of the ladies thook pains to from his shoulders. It was half-past Wilfred could never be anything posi- “We" t W t to go, embarrassment'in his 1ook trition might be responsible for his | hell where all the bills were paid on Wt o B e mramaty . 5 | ogative stumbling-biock, & negative |mire the fatness of the Shite Jow “Strike out everything pinched physique. the f the month, hell where Possessed of a sudden nervous en-|husband. chase of September 12th’” he com- ‘But the old man always said he|there was always a generous surplus 4 B ergy, he brought out his suit case and, ‘The life, too, was telling on her. ed. i. rmr face and hands were growing thin, UXURY MAD AS SOME PARVENUE CLEOPATRA, SHE nn’b'm.u'rnm HER APPETITE FOR CLOTHES BEFORE THEY LEFT NEW YORK. el had first planned, and:try it again. Those must have been awful years for would say in re Omaha purchase of Séptember 12th, is there any reason why the old man should put things|mother, living on the prairie, fighting like that up to me? Is he some sort|off cattle rustlers, half starved and of supreme being that he should look | trying to take care of m baby.” through the skylight and tell me when ‘Wilfred paused and-blew an alco- and where and how to find my wife? "]houc sigh. Ethel looked again at hira She glanced up and remarked the|and wondered how much early malnu- tively. He was a negative irritation, a nine, old Alky’s usual hour, but his appearanes in Wilfred’s office was nothing less than a phenomenon. He ‘was & smallish man, like Wilfred; but unlike his son, his every line and expressive of nervous and unconquerable energy. horns and red cattle among the well- kept barns. If you are a curious raveler—as, of course, you are—you .wfll ask who is living there and who is the old invalid !lllln! in the wheel- chair under a live oak? . “He's Alcis J. Bowdin,” the guide will tell you. ‘You remember? He went busted in the Indoga cattle scandal of 1913. Place belongs to his son, but his daughter-in-law runs the - ranch. Had a hell of time, they say, at first. But young Bowdin made ', a small stake in street railways and. bought this choice bit of property’ “She must be a capable woman” . ou remark. . ‘Oh, ves,” says the guide, tolerantly. .. ‘But you can do anything in this cli- mmate 4 mand Again he rubbed his trou-|could swing the gate round his way|with which to help the deserving|din for his money. n packin though catchin bled forehead. . |aBain. And he did. When I was seven | wherever help was needed. It was|the polo player. and Shirley de lelimlesal Dot nl b i e [hdicating the strain that was Ethel,” he resumed impulsively, “I|years old he came out of the west|s motion picture version of heliish | taine, the aviator, and Pontius Cra-|feit only disdainful pity for his irreso-{on her at a time when a woman was z-)'kln‘ to you. with about half a state in his pocket. | grandeur, perhaps, but it charmed as|ven, a gentlemn of leisure, were dn-|)yte frenzy and turned her back upon should be most fastidiously cared for. “0! He thinks pretty well of himself, you | it haunted. And yet she made no|clined to broad-mindedness in regdtds| his poor efforts at helping himself. A e know: it was only thie morning that|move to answer Wilfred's scridbled |to Bthel. She permitted their escort|gyll thump brought her back to his 5 he admitted to me that mother wae!appeal. to polo matches and, rather daringly |case. Wilfred, bending over his bag-|T'OWARD the end of January their responsible for most of his resurrec- costumed, Jaughed with them on-the | gage had fainted and lay huddled on money being nearly gone, she tion. She just wouldn’t let -him fail. beach. And dancing! All the pent<ud| the fioor, his head jammed against a ! She scrubbed her fingers to the bone, enthusiasm of youth glowed in ‘Ber | agiator. rummaged the advertising columns but ehe held on and never once show- veins at the drawl of & fddle or '!Itaxs of the Los Angeles Times, hoping e white fe. T en the boss gleam of neat slippers op a polisl i e was dowr she was up, She won for fionr."Alao ‘she bad pretentious ki desperately for Some kind of :‘“"‘ him. It broke her health, it killed built near Harry Krugg's stables as that would keep them alive, keep Bec, @ fnally;fbuby lm Eecompiined auerters for her. troupe of mlglafi: po- their pitiful home together until Wil. it she was put in the world to do— ce dogs, at that time a novelty on (or doadtor ew to put her man in the place where he American sofl. e bR s - RALh belonged and to keep him there. Naturally people made the most of | e it et carae tntoibel ng “It killed her finally,” echoed Ethel the situation. Wasn't it pitiful the way. o IR e ) AT S Cray, regarding her weak employer she was using the Bowdin boy! What L U L o i ers. An author wanted the services of a typist familiar with scenarios. She had copied a few scemarios for Mr. Dorian back in the Brooklyn h “You seem to be the only person in the world I can talk to with a reason able chance of being understood.” He opened his cigarette case, chose, light ed, inhaled, snapped the clasp. “I think the boss has gone a little cras: he declared. *“But I'm awfully sorry for him. Only it's so hard for an old man to understand a young one. Ethel looked down at her work, un- easy because she knew tiat this poor soul was again turning her into his sigter confessor. “You know, Ethel,” Wilfred went on rapidly, “he’s been all over the lot about my marrying and setting up an establishment. Nobody can say I haven't been a pretty obedient son. I'm a bit of. a man about town, you know—no angel of light. But T've|to be always in the old man’s mind. He nd I | called me in this morning simply to warn been scouting among the pippins, thought I'd picked 2 winner. She’s an | me against the girl I wanted to mar- actress—ve ry. ‘She’ll be a fair-weather wife, to look at, and I T |he sald. ‘She’s the kind who'll always you can give, She was secretly disappoint- ed when a week went by and nothing more was heard from poor, misguided Wilfred. O.‘\’ Saturday afternoon; Judy having gone to a free concert, Ethel sat in a shabby scroll-sawed rocker; at- tempting to settle her mind over a paper-backed copy of “Ivanhoe” which e had borrowed from the delicates:. sen dealer's wife. Above Sir Walter's mighty highfalutins the question of the day kept tap-tapping at her brain, Then @ jouder tap-tapping brought her to her feet. It was & knock upon the door, an impertinent, peremptory, sulting knock which seemed to say: ‘Open in the name of the law!" She went to the door, and, as soon as she had ewung it wide, stood irreso- lute in the presence of Mr. Alcis J. Bowdin himself. Quite without an invitatior, neglecting to remove his peari-gray hat, the little giant strode into the room. His hard, red face was inscru- table, but his quick. marvelously in- telligent eyee were taking in every detail of the shoddily furnished inte. rior.. Finally he decided to remove his hat. “Eth he began roughly, ‘“now You look here; you'd better reconsider w:(l:nd‘s proposition and have it over with. “That would be impossible, Mr. Bow- din* she said quietly. ‘Won't you sit down?" He threw himself into the comfort- able rocker and sat studying her. “Bthel.”” he resumed, ‘T've talked it over with Wilfred, and I think it's all right. t o lttle eyes ng bushy eyebrows, sh that Mr. Bowdin .was working a strain, that the flerce ing ma- chine which had driven him these many years might break some day and hurl the driving brain into the sands of destruction. he asked here' ‘Wilfred ™ through his cigar. “He's net down yet, Mr. Bowdin,” e replied, a little frightened. “Hm! When does he usually get own ™ “About half-past ten,” she told him, adjusting the time schedule in favor of Wilfred, who seldom showed up noon. “Hm! Send bim In to me when he her through had a f He was unconscious.. - * 5 k¥ T was all very well for the house physician, a frog-like little man who came in his own good time, to talk about Wilfred’s having a long rest. He had had nothing but rest, so far as Ethel knew, during the point- less years of his insignificant life. But Wilfred was obviously il since the shock which hurled him swooning over his open suit case. The goggle- eyed doctor mentioned anemia, nerv- ous prostration add.a series of diffi- cult Latin names. Like all second- rate professional men, the house phy: sician spent a great deal of time di: D!:gln‘ his knowledge. ilfred went to bed, very white, very wvery pathetic. can’t stay was about all * ¥ X ¥ such a sight-seeing tour had. e afternoon when little . Mab, now seven and going on eight, approached her grandfather gleefully nd gave him a free and skillful exhi-. bition of orange-sucking. “If you eat too many of those darned things,” croaked the old man in his sour voice, “you'll get hardening of the arter - “Why doesn’'t mother like you? asked the child. & “Because,” said Alcis J. Bowdin, “T | proved to her that I was right. Wom-, en don't like that, you see. “Don’t you like mother?" asked Mab, spilling orange juice down the neck of her frock. “I do,” declared old Alky. “And I shouldn’t be surprised if she liked me, too. Only it wouldn't do for her to admit it a gone by could be thinking of, marrying that common little thing? Didn’t he have any spirit? What did Bowdin, sr., think of all these goings-on? Pretty scenes young Bowdin must be having with his wife in the secrecy of their big suite on the second floor! * % ¥ ¥ AS with a tolerance she had never before felt for him. “Yes,” said Wilfred. “And her mem- ory—the memory of what she did seems days, and she hoped to find some- thing here which would permit her to work at home—for her condition as well her responsibilities pre- vented her staying away for any great length of time. Therefore one morning, between breakfast dishes and luncheon stew, she floundered through the mud and took the trolley for Los Angeles. She found Mr. Glossky, the author, work- ing in an untidy room over a shoe store. ' His tace was almost criminal in its hardness and dissipation, bu He was all too right in that oft-. g look softened to pity at'the sight reiterated plaint. Hotel bills were ac-| ot her condition, and he even sug- tively eating into their surplus. Nev-| gested a place where she could rent ertheless the young Mrs. Bowdin real- |3 practically new typewriter for $4 ized that the medical frog would kill|3 Yionth. He turned over to her her husband in time, and so she went, 5 mass of obscure handwriting and to Dr. Delaney, a man then locally|]oaned her a finished scenario as a eminent, and frankly confessed their|gyide. plight. With something of the broad-|° mThe next day her rented machine minded generosity which had gone t0-| came;, and she set #» work tick-tack- ward putting him up in the profession, | jng out frightfully comic scenes in Dr. Delaney smiled at the prospect of | the midst of the prevailing squalor another bad risk, came and looked|and depression. For more than a into Wilfred's case. month the sun had been a stranger “He's had a severe nervous shock.” | to the people of earth; rain was now was his verdict. “It will need time and { yascending_in sheets, lashing the a great deal of patience. Medication,| mean little windowpanes, Which of course—but it won't amount 1o|geemed to cry and cry the tears the skies were beginning to drip| much here. What he needs is quiet.| which Ethel was too proud and too with the first warnings of the rainy|building up, good plain food. And;jndignant to_shed. season. Most of the desirable young|don't by any means try to take him “Caption—You Poor Cheese!" men had gone long ago. The sea look-| east until he gets a lot better.” { Fthel stopped in her typing at this ed dreary and Ethel, dressing for din=| All this sounded so simple! { remark. which she had just copied er, had decided that It should be New| “You know, Etty,” declared Wilfred | from Mr. Glossky's fearfully comic Eorkixndiationee: In his feeble Voice as soon as the doc- | manuscript. Poor cheese. “indeed! ‘Wilfred burst into her room his face| tor had gone, “it was a rotten shame | jjow she wished phe could find a Ris body all- a-|the way I keeled over. It's positively | jjttle love in her heart to color the tremble. 2 s | ROthIng. T've had those spelis a dosen | prevailing gray! She could see her “What in the world's happened?’|times and been as fit as a fiddle next|husband in the next room sitting up ed, truly al 3 day. If youw'll only help me into my|in bed poring over a damaged book Ho choked as he said it!clothes— she had brought him from the pub- o e “Stay where you are!” she com-|jic library. She realized how sullen im by the arm.of.he|/manded none too gently, and went|ana ungracious she had always bean would have fallen. forth again In search of something.|to him, even in their days of gaudy “The old man's put everything into|somewhere, to be their shelter during | prosperity. Poor Wilfred, poor Ethel, the jackpot. He tried to swing more | the terrible months to come. Poor Alky, poor world! than he could carry. It's gone. Every| A comfortable house in a wholesome |~ Her baby was born in the middle cent gone. He's having a close |neighborhood, plenty of light and air.|of February, or, atmospherically k"“—he sank into a chair before|all medern convenjences—that was all | speaking. during a high mist be- uld complete the information—“a|she wanted. It was raining half-ltween storms. Less than an_ hour close squeak keeping out of jail. | heartedly, and half-heartedly ~she|pefore the doctor came the Dostman ‘You mean there's nothing left—for| waded through seas of mud, searching | brought a letter from cld Bowdin's was a selfish question, and she knew by the lo hl‘ll‘h." her that we Ty easy think she sort of cottons to me. ‘was just on the point of asking her—"" “Do you think you ought to tell all this to me?” she asked, closely re- ing his puzzled, amiable face. “Who the devil else can I talk to”" he complained, reddening. ‘You were just on the point of ask- ing her—" “And some time this week the boss a matter of plain truth, there ‘were no scenes in the big: suite on the second floor. Wilfred was al- ways kind, humble and meek as one of Ethel's well broken dogs. It was e 5 constantly a sort of 1] §- , but he repeated it with a per- (e e CAC L BL U e co 80 child-like that Ethel was the head. Only once did he flare up. -|driven to a frensy of despair. “Etty"—he fated her solemnly—"do. ounknov the old man’'s howling ca- mity? “Calamity?” She straightened up. “He won't tell me what it is, but 1 is letters. that be asking how much never considering her share in the contract. She can find a sucker some- where, but she’s got to keep out of my family. If you want to stay in the firm, you've got to ‘choose a man's wife. You owe that to me, and you owe it more to your mother’ ‘And what sort of wife a man’'s wife? ] ®| asked. Now, that's where he said & ::c!u?::.“:l‘a‘l- i’::..'.’.f‘l‘.":f :':::l':: le\'ri:r peculiar -thing. ‘There’s Jjust one wince. Last night he told me nothing ;i kind.' he said, ‘and she’s the kind who, el rive ny eason une | when the time comes, s willing to g0 der the sun. That's what he called me |, tBroush hell for you. in_about this morning.” P ‘And he gave you a reason.” beyond her scruple: did the old man mean by that?’ he “It was a pretty good reason, to0o.” admitted Wilfred, again rubbing his|ackeq, just as if Ethel might know. It was a crowded minute before she (Prr':lleafd in that helpless way of his. “The old man never told me about; himself before. BBulG"Iil mnr':llng :e answered that fateful guestion. What y George, how he|did old Alky mean by that? She You see, my mother was | exactly how Bowdin, senior, stood and his second wife—I never knew that!what he had endured. This trifiing before. He told me his whole history | boy with both body and will under- !;m'l"‘ the ?pple of Di'ncort:‘ lobthe P‘bllll I dev;loped:undouhledly he neeged jof 'm sorry for the boss—but | such another woman as his mother why is he taking it out on me”” had been, to direct him, look out for rx‘:‘\:,:clk“ke: no m&l;e:l;finlh:nlm{u;r | him. E\écn h);la \'tv.'-en were aimle: sa and permitted him to thin! orrowed things from the vicious She studied him out of the corner of | forces around him, but despair at her her eye. He was not even good look-;own grinding and hopeleas condition ing. Possibly, had he been blused)ln life, a certain ambition, if you will— ) With normal health, he might have ! possibly an instinctive feeling that she ylrcufl:ilufir lumerllrxllzg :é l'l:‘e ‘vlrll‘le.|w:‘.lk to be chosen—prompted her to rugged front which made his father !strike out brutally. magnetic. Then she sensed a fright- “Wilfred,” she said, unintentionally ened, unpleasant thrill. This strange using his first name and speaking boy had taken a fancy to her! The| without kindness, *“since you've told sight of him sitting there baring his|me things I didn't ask to know, I'm ;ecn;l: !hrllntll.l“llno,\'ed khnr, increased xowfi’lo say something.” er disgust o 8 weaknes: red sat up, attentive and hurt a "ll"nll':er‘lz first rrl’llrr::ge. he sud-|as a small boy being chided by his enly took up the theme, “was a!governess. pretty mess. He was a wild man, just| “You're a weak, wasteful boy,” she oft the range, spectacularly rich and|went on, feeling as though a voice|I settle that, get him to put it down E | squandering his money the way cat-| within were speaking for her. “Your!in black and white, will you take “He's actually chewing leather.” re-| tlemen do. She was a poor girl of|father was right, terribly right. He's | him?" t sumed Wilfred cheerfully. “Really,|splendid family, trained to like ex-|built a big fortune round you; and if| She closed her eyes just a moment. Mlgs“’ ray. ll:Lu ';:Iro"r o‘f thlnxhu:l«u pens'l)\'e !llnn Th’b‘ old munddlttl‘r;'l x;ny there's anything in money it ought to| 8he wasn't in love with Wilfred or a fellow in the ning. ad_an|so, but 1 guess she married him for| be used to make people better instead}anybo Z awful night last night—up till five. | his money. They had a fine time for|of worse. How have you been ing recyklelil)'a}:er -S;'gurr:tn:'l'::uc:x: it? You've gone to college to learn|had been killed in Mexico. e drising ma to lt. Bthel What|about - two yoars. Then the silver 0 you think he called me last night, | cloud broke, and it began raining hard|a lot of bad habits. You've come out 5 - right before the servants”” 2 luck. It was just like the old man to| thinking you were a lot better than "yo'rxf:nn ol B, 1ts .;‘:h:?'n"y' “I can’'t imagine,” admitted Ethel,|start something about then—he's a|your father; as a matter of fact, you| ~“I think you're a pretty fine wom- eyes pretentiously on her work. | gambler at heart, and there have|aren't fit to shine his shoes—" an,” gro the ex-cowboy as he took n ornament.” : ¥ been times when he couldn't let well| “Ethel!” He said this gaspingly,|her hand. hat was unfair, wasn't it?" enough alone. One morning he walk-{and for the first time she began to| The parting remark, which sealed She was almost sorry for the last|ed into her room and said: ‘Susie, the | realive what she had been doing in|the bargain, implied that he admired sercasm. Poor Wilfred looked 8o !bank’s broke. If you'll take it like a|this impulsive tirade of truth. her with certain reservations.. xmall and insignificant in spite of his [ sportsman, we can go back to the cow| “Oh, I know,” she declared. for the| Early and glorious Californis spring fauitless grooming. 2 country and get another stake. But|tempest was still raging, “I'm only|found Mr. and Mrs. Wilfred Bowdin “You see, he's continually dinging|it means a general sell-out—horses, |your employe. You'll take revenge by competing with several other large me about getting married, and then | jewelry, houses, everything—and | firing me, and I don’t care. I can find| American fortunes at Hotel del Coro- hen I show the least interest in any- | we've got to g0 live on bunch grass|something eclse, I guess. But I'm nado. Old Alky, who had done every- hody. there he goes again kicking up | for a while.” ing to talk—don't interrupt me. T've|thing to hasten’ the union, had made the dust “The boss thought this would be|got a brother in college, working like ) amends for his curtness by sending thel winced. If only Wilfred could | simple enough, and it would have|a nigger to buy books, sneaking|Wilfred a lavish allowance on the first keen a few things to himself: been, if Susie had stuck. But she|through back alleys to hide his poor|of every month. Sudden sobriety had 1-'s waiting for you, 1 think,” she | raixed an awful noise and insisted on | clothes. He's spending dimes where | not improved the young man’s heaith, sugrsted ever 80 gently. i Boing back to mother—and taking all { you've been throwing away gold{but he was sticking to the letter of Toly snak he spluttered. and ! her valuables with her. He had put|pieces, but when he comes out, If he|the bargain, written, signed and seal- shot gway toward his offended sire. |a %ood deal of money in her name,|lives through the struggle ed on good white paper. The doctor It was @ quarter after twelve when |and she got it out of the way so that|ped just because had looked him over and decided that wWiifred came back, and even Ethel's|neither he nor his creditors could|thought choked her—“he'll come outlCalifornia and a year's rest would bring careless glance assured her that his|touch il 7 & serious, useful man to soclety.” |him back to his nose too vigorous interview had not-beea a casi ‘She was a shiort sport,” remarked! *I'm pot accys ~—=" he be| normak ES ks S e he clothed his weak body.in fashion- able garments. Then she thought, as innumerable others had thought, that the girl who married Wilfred would be mighty lucky in a worldly way. ‘Wilfred was sole heir to the Bowdin fortunes. Wilfred would be as putty in the hands of a graceful feminine ‘manipu! . Ethel sighed. She wasn't thinking entirely of herself, but of her brother Bob, who was now in his senior year at the Boston Tech and would be a brilliant architect some day, provided poverty did not blight him before his time for graduation. She was worrying about Bob this morning—she often worried about him; but now she was considering his case with something like despair. Wiifred came in at 11 o'clock. He ‘was a delicate-looking young man of mbout twenty-four. His mouth, a rather softer version of his fathers. held a monogrammed cigarette at a Joose angle. That he had already Joyed his morning cocktail was obvi- ous, for its perfume surrounded him Jike a spectral gas. He wore his; clothes with a sort of quiet bravado #nd looked—as the sons of sudden furtune often do—like the fiimey de- scendant of a long patrician line. “Morning, Miss Cray!” he began pleasantly, removing his expensively rough overcoat. “Good morning. Mr. Bowdin.” oss been asking for me? es. He was in at half past nine.” oesn’t he ever xleep”™ Wilfred vawned. “Did he look peeved about anything?" “Rather,” admitted Ethel. none too anxious to gossip about the mighty one from whom, indirectly, she drew her sustena “That would be proving that what ', I said was right.” . “What did you say, grandfather?” “Not much.’ His clear old mind was wandering , back to the afternoon in the Brooklyn flat when he had believed that she was a very good woman. “Father loves her, anyhow!' de- . clared the observant child, “and she loves father.” S “If he didn" said old Alky, ‘I'd kick him all the way from here to Pasadena.” know by the look of hi something’s apt to go ‘wrong. ~An we're nearly $30,000 behind our allow- ance now.” “Why didn't you tell me that be- fore?”she aked rudel: % “"Wha ed himself. * ink I'm a tight-wad. I always have to beg for the Jeast little thing!* she wailed, and lost voice in & torrent of childish sobs. ‘The crash came in early winter, just t’s very nice of you," marked, not without sarcasm. “You see, the boy's taken an awful shine to you, young lady. And I'm beginning to agree with him—for the first time in my life, I guess. He told me what you sald. That was hot shot, Ethel—hot shot. You fired from the hip and let him have it. Now, that's the stuff Wilfred needs. I've given it to him in proper doses these many years But it goes into one ear and out of the other. It needs & woman with guts—excuse me—to get hold of :‘;I‘;‘ and tell him the truth about him- Quite apparently the father was pro- posing for the son. i “I won't marry a drunkard or a gambler,” she announced, her lips tightening. “Good!” Old Alky snapped this out as once he had snapped a quirt over the ribs of a misbehaving bronco. “If she re- Mab's rosebud mouth flew ! . “Could you Kick that far, grand- tather? Under the blue steamer rug Mr. Bowdin tried to move one of his with- ered legs, and as he did so, he smiled a whimsical, dry, wry and gallant smile. - (Cgpreignt. Printed by arrangement with the tropolitan_ Newspaper Service and The . Washiugton Star.) —_— The Prevailing Color. I\(IARY GARDEN, on her return - from Europe, talked to a reporter about French fashions. “Dresses this year,” sald the prima donna, “are inconceivably costly and beautiful. The extravagance In the use of costly materials is remarkable—even- ing gowns literally incrusted with gold braid, gold embroideries; gold laces. And terribly - distorted, the cheaper suburbs. lawyer., Mr. Macmonagle. It ha@|the before-the-war fashion of white wigs Floundering, prying into_ squalid|peen forwarded to “Bowers” from | s popular again. But the most striking . neighborhoods ' infested by Ji Coronado, and merely said that Mr.|innovation in Paris is the colored facs her mind was forever on life's fateful | Bowdin was now able to be moved, % trickery which had brought her to|but required constant care, as_ the this. Wilfred prostrate in Los Ange-| paralytic stroke had left him a crip- les, old Alky collapsed—dying, prob-|ple. It intimated that the younger ly—in New York. Money gone; bo- | Bowdins should take care of him. sition gone: and a baby was expected | ~ Ethel xot the letter before Wilfred some time in February! saw it—he was now on his feet and There were a few dim lights on the | moving about, making futile efforts horizon. After the hotel bills were|at housework. She hid Mr. Ma paid, they would have enough left to|monagle's communication without a maintain them in almost comic pov-|word to her husband. Suffering erty for two months. Then there was |though she was, she sat at the typ: this amall consplation—the people did acked a reply: not recognize them as the once prodi- “Dear Sir: 3 gal heir and his stenographer brid. “Yours of Feb. 12th receivéd and They had registered at the hotel un- | contents duly noted. In reply would der the name of Mr, and Mrs. William | say that, since Mr. Bowdin has made Bowers, and she had adopted this|you rich and is fow down. it would pseudonym, which agreed with thejbe only fair for you to pay his ex- Tnitials on their baggage. She was!penses to California and say nothing glad, too, about Bob. He had u- | about it. Awaiting your reply, ated with honors, and she had prom- ours very faithfully, ised him a course at the Beaux Arts.| * And she signed it proudly: “Ethel Of course, that must go glimmering, [Cray Bowdin.” but she had got him on his feet. The baby, who proved to be a girl. She found an untidy born with & mop of asd In this cresh had benuty that had made him tolerable to her. Then a curious shame over- came her; and the thought of a living common interest, now tentl{ stirring, reminded her of the one thing they were destined always to bave together. “Can’t we sell out,” she ask “and manage it so as not to make any dove grey, russet plexions—to name only a few. But" she added, with a grim smile, “probably most of us will go on fooking pretty _ blue.” The Poorest Profession. EDGAR LEE MASTERS was talk- ing abuwt the poor pay of the poetical profzssion. ‘A pretty girl.” he said gloomily, “told me at a tea the other day that ° she had been to see a fortune teller.” . *“‘And the fool must have thought I was an heiress,’ she added. § 'Why?* said I ‘Because,’ said the pretty girl. ‘she rophesied that I'd marry & poet and ve happy ever after;” _haven’t got a stock or a bond to my name,” he told her disconsolately. “We depend on the old man for every stitch we wear, every crumb we eat.” “I know that,” she replied ratber crossly. “But I was thinking of my jewels and our cars. We can sell them. And then I ought to get some- sat all doubled up, rubbin Bafertet it ] 2 cri & it, looking up, hat-e good sport you arel™ z Wi