Evening Star Newspaper, July 1, 1923, Page 72

Mary, wifi Her Heart at Last Full of Surgilgg Emotion, Found the Scales Fallen From YOUNG man in spectacles came into the smoking room. His high forehead was aglow and he lapped up a ginger ale with the air of one who considers that he has earned it. “Capital exercise!” he sald, beam- ing upon the oldest member. The oldest member peered suspi- clously at him. “What did you go round in?" asked. | “Oh, I wasn’t playing solf,” sald “the young man. “Bowls.” “A nauseous pursuit!” sald the old- est member coldly. The young man seemed nettled. “I don't know why you should say that” he retorted. “It's a splendid same.” “Lrank it,”” sald the oldest member, “wilh the juvenile pastime of mar- bles. The young man pondered for some moments. he Her Eyes. ACH day that passed found Rollo more nearly up to his eyebrow in the tender emotion. He thought of Mary when he was changing his wet shoes; he dreamed of her while put- ting flannel next his skin: he yearned for her over the evening arrowroot. Why, the man was such a slave to his devotion that he actually went to the length of purloiflng small articles belonging to her. Two days after Mary's arrival Rollo Podmarsh was driving off the first tee with one of her handkerchlefs, a powder puff and a dozen hairpins secreted in his left breast pocket. When dressing for dinner he used to take them out and look at them, and ‘at night he slept with them under his pillow. Heavens, how he loved that girl! One evening, when they had gone out’into the garden togther to look at the new moon—Rollo, by his mother's advice, wearing a woolen scarf to protect his throat—he en- “Well, anyway,” he sald at length, pleavored to bring the conversation “it was good enough for Drake.” “As I have not the pleasure of the acquaintance of your friend Drake, I am unable to estimate the value of his indorsement.” “The Drake. The Spanish Armada Drake. He was playing bowls ‘on Plymouth hoe when they told him that the Armada was in sight. ‘There is time to finish the game,’ he replied. That's what Drake thought of bowls." “If he had been a golfer he would have ignored the Armada altogether. “It's easy enough to say that, sald the young man with spirit, “but can the history of golf show a parallel case”? 4 “A million, I should imagine.” “But you've forgotten them, eh?" said the young man satirically. “On the contrary,” sald the oldest “As a typical instance I will select the story of Rollo Pod- marsh.” He settled himself comfort- ably In his chair. “This Rollo Pod- marsh—" “No, I say!" protested the young man, looking at his watch. “This Rollo Podmarsh——" “Yes, but—" * % ¥ % HIS Rollo Podmarsh (said the oldest member) was the only #on of his mother, and she was a widow. He had permitted his parent to coddle him ever since he had been | in the nursery: and now, in his twenty-elghth yvear, he Invariably wore flannel next his skin, changed his shoes the moment they got wet, | and—from September to May, inclu-! slve—never went to bed without par- Jaking of a bowl of hot arrowroot.| But Rollo Podmarsh was a golfer, nd consequently pure gold at heart, Wrl in his hour of crisis all the good B him came to the surface. Mary Kent was the daughter of an #1a school friend of Mrs. Podmarsh, and she had come to spend the autumn and winter with her while her parents were abroad. The scheme had never looked particularly good to Mary, and after ten minutes of her hostess on the subject of Rollo she was beginning to weave dreams of knotted sheets and a swift getaway through the bedroom window in the dark of the night. “He is a strict teetotalle: Mrs. Podmarsh. “Really “And has never smoked In his life. “Fancy that!" “But here is the dear boy now,” said Mrs. Podmarsh fondly. Down the road toward them was coming a tall, well-knit figure in a Norfolk coat and gray flannel trousers. Over his broad shoulders was suspended a bag of golf clubs. “Is that Mr. Podmarsh?" exclaimed Mary. She waus surprised. After all she had been listening to about the ar- rowroot and the flannel next the skin and the rest of it, she had been expecting to meet a small, slender young man with an eyebrow mus- tache and pince-nez, but this person approaching might have stepped out of Jack Dempsey's training camp. “Does he play golf?" asked Mary, herself an enthusiast. “Oh, yes” said Mrs. Podmarsh. “Rollo i exceedingly good at golf. He scores more than a hundred and twenty every time, while Mr. Jenkin- son, who 1s supposed to be one of the best players in the club, seldom man- ages to reach eighty. But Rollo is very modest, and you would never guess he was so skiliful unless you were told. Well, Rollo, darling, did you have a nice game? You didn’t get your feet wet, I hope? This is Mary Kent, dear. Rollo Podmarsh shook hands with Mary. And at her touch the strange dizzy feeling which had come over | him at the sight of her suddenly be- came Increased a thousandfold. Rollo Podmarsh was in love at first sight. Mrs, Podmarsh, having enfolded her son in a vehement embrace, drew back with a startled exclamation, anifing: “Rollo!” she cried. tobacco smoke.” Rollo looked embarrassed. “Well, the fact is, mother—-" A hard protuberance in his coat pocket attracted Mrs, Podmarsh's no- tice. She swooped and drew out a big-bowled pipe. “Rollo!” she exclaimed, aghast. “Well, the fact is, mother—' “Don’t you know,” cried Mrs. Pod- marsh, “that smoking polsonous and injurious to health?” “*Yes. But the fact is, mother—"" “It-causes nervous dyspepsia, sleep- ' lessness, gnawing of the stomach, headache, weak eyes, red spots on the skin, throat irritation, asthma, bron- chitis, heart failure, lung trouble, catarrh, melancholy, neurasthenia, loss of memory, impaired willpower, rheumatism, lumbago, sciatica, neuri- tis, heartburn, torpid llver, loss of sppetite, enervation, lassitude, lack of ambition and falling out of hair.” ®gea I know, mother. But the fact Ted Ray smokes all the time he's playing, and I thought it might im- Prove my game.” And it was at these splendid worde that Mary Keént felt for the first time that something might be made of Rello Podmarsh. There was, she con- sald “You smell of widered; the right stuff in Rollo. And 1, 'as seemed probable from his ‘mother's conversation, it would take & Bit of digging to bring up, well— she'liked rescus work and had plenty of time, 2 A round to the important subject.-Mary's last remark had been about earwigs. Consldered as & cue, it lacked a subtle something, but Rollo was not the man to be discouraged by that. “Talking of earwigs, Miss Kent,” he sald in a low, musical voice, “have you ever been in love?" Mary was silent for a moment be- fore repiyving. “Yes, once—when I was eleven— with a conjurer who came to perform at my birthday party. He took a rab- bit and two eggs out of my hair, and life seemed one grand sweet son; ‘ever since then?” “Never.” 3 “Suppose, just for the sake of argu- ment—suppose you ever did love any one; what-er-a sort of man would It be? “A hero,” said Mary promptly. “A hero?" sald Rollo, somewhat taken aback. “What sort of hero?” “Any sort. T could love only a real- ly brave man—a man who had done some wonderful herole action.” “Shall we go In?" said Rollo hoarse- 1y. “The air is a little chilly.” We have now arrived at a period in Rollo Podmarsh's career which might have inspired those lines of Henley's about “the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole. In addition to being hopelessly in love, he was greatly depressed about his golf. On Rollo in his capacity of golfer I have so far not dwelt. Outwardly plactd, Rollo was consumed inwardly by an ever-burning fever of ambition. He did not want to become amateur champion, nor even to win a monthly medal, but he did with his whole soul desire one of these days to go round the course in under & hundred. This feat accomplished, it was his Inten- tion to set the seal on his golfing ca- reer by playing a real money-match; and already he had selected his oppo- nent, a certain Col. Bodger, a tottery performer of advanced vears, who for the last decade had been a martyr to lumbago. But it began to look as if even the modest goal he had marked out for himself were beyond his powers. Day after day he would step onto the first tee, glowing with zeal and hope, only to crawl home in the quiet evenfall with another hundred and twenty on his card. He was one of those golfers | who never seem to have what you | might call a full hand. If he was on his drive, he was off his putting: every time he struck a good vein of putting, something was bound to go wrong with his iron shots; and on the rare occasion when it seemed as though he was at the top of his form in all branches of the game, a half- sale was sure to spring up, and that dished him absolutely every time. Little wonder, then, that he began to lose his appetite and would moan feebly at the sight of a poached egs. With Mrs. Podmarsh sedulously watch- ing over her son's health, you might have supposed that this inabllity on his part to teach the foodstuffs to take a Jjoke would have caused consternation in the home. But it so happened that THE SUNDAY ST Rollo Po -_— ‘would no doubt have accepted without questioning her grandmother’s dictum that roly-poly pudding codld not feil to hand a devastating wallop to the blood pressure, and that to take two helpings of it was practically equiva- lent to walking right into the family vault. A child with less decided opin- fons of her own would have been impressed by the spectacle af her uncle refusing sustenance, and woyls have recelved without demur the statement that he did it because he felt that abstinence was good for his health, Lettice was a modern child and knew better. She had had experience of this loss of appetite and its sig- nificance. The first symptom which had preceded the demise of poor old Rollo was under the disadvantage of not possessing & handicap. He had never actually handed In the three cards necessary for handicapping pur- poses. “I don't exactly know,” he sail “It's my ambition to get found under a hundred. But I've never managed it yet.” “Never?” “Never! It's strange, but something always seems to go Wrong.’ “Perhaps you'll manage it today,” sald Mary, encouragingly—so encour- agingly that it was all Roll6 could do to refrain from flinging himself at her feet and barking like a dog. “Well, I'll start you two holes up, and .. WASHINGTON, _ D. 0, JULY dmarsh Co He turned, to see his sister, Mrs. Willoughby, the mother of the child Lettice. “Hullo,”- he sald. get back?™” “Late Tast extraordinary!” - “Hope you had & good time. What's extraordinary? Listen, Enld, do you know what I've done? Forty-six for the first nine! Forty-six—and holing out every putt. “Oh, then that accounts for it “Account for what?" “Why, your Jooking so pleased with life. I got an idea from Letty, when she’ wrote to me, that you were at death's door. Your gloom seems to have made a deep impression on the child. . Hoer letter was full of it “When did you night. Why, 1ts “ROLLO, DARLING,” SAID MRS. PODMARSH, “THIS IS MARY KENT.” Ponto, who had recently handed in his portfolio after holding office for ten years as the Willoughby family dog. had been this same disinclination to absorb nourishment. Besides, she was an obServant child, and had not failed to note the haggard misery in her uncle's eyes. Lettice tackled Rollo squarely on the subject one morning after break- fast. He had retired into the more distant parts of the garden, and was leaning forward, when she found him, with his head burled in his hands. “Hullo, Uncle,” sald Lettice. Rollo looked up wanly. “Ah, child!” Ne said. He was fond of his niece. “Aren’t you feeling well, uncle?” “Far, far from well." “It's old age, I expect,” said Lettice. “L feel old" admitted Rollo; “old and rather battered. Ah, Lettice, laugh and be gay while you can.” “All right, uncle.” “Make the most of your happy, care- , emiling, halcyon childhood.” ight ho, uncle.” “When you get to my age, dear, you will realize that It is a sad, hopeless world—a world where, if you keep your head down, you forget to let the clubhead lead; where, even if you do happen, by a miracle, to keep ‘em straight with your brassie, you blow up on the green and foozle a six-inch putt.” > Lettice gathered broadly that she had been correct in supposing Uncle Rollo to be in a bad state, and her warm, childish heart was filled with pity for him. She walked thought- fully away, and Rollo resumed his reverie. * % ¥ ¥ NTO each life, as the poet says, some raln must fall. So much had recently been falling into Rollo's that when fortune at last sent along a belated sunbeam It exercived a cheering effect out of all proportion to its size. By this I mean that whe; some four days after his conversa- tion with Lettice, Mary Kent asked him to play golf with her, he read into the invitation a significance which only a lover could have seen in it. I will not go so far as to say “TALKING OF EARWIGS, MISS KENT,” ROLLO SAID, “HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE?” Rollo’s mother had recently been reading a medical treatise, in which an eminent physician stated that we all eat too much nowadays, and that the secret of a happy life is to lay oft the carbohydrates to some extent. She w therefore, delighted to ob- -serve the young man's moderation in the matter of food, and frequently held him up as an example to be noted and followed by little Lettice Willoughby, her granddaughter, who |'wanderings of his in the bushi was a good and consistent trencher- woman, particularly rough on the puddings. Little Lettice, I should mention, was the daughter of Rollo's sister Enid, who lived in the nelgh- borhood. Mrs. Willoughby had been compelled to go away on a visit a few days before, and had left her child with Mrs. Podmarsh during her ab- sence. * ok kX YOL' can fool some of the people all the time, but Lettice Willoughby ‘was not of the mxuhn is easily de- that Rollo Podmarsh looked on Mary Kent's suggestion that they should have a round together as actually tantamount to a revelation of undy- ing love, but he certainly regarded it a8 & most encouraging sign. It seemed to him that things were be- ginning to move, that Rollo Preferred was on a rising market. Gone was the gloom of the pas days. He forgot those sad solitary at the bottom of the garden; he forgot that his mother had bought him a new set of winter woolles, which felt like horsehair; he forgot that for the last few evenings his arrowroot had tas! ed rummy. His whole mind was oc- cupied with the astounding fact that she had voluntarily offered to play ®o0lf with him, and he walked out on to the first tee filled with & yeasty exhilaration, which nearly caused him to burst into song. . | . “How shall we play?” ssked Mary. “1 am a twelve. What is your headl. cap?” Ce we'll see how you get on. take the honor?” She drove off one of those fair-to- medium balls which go with a twelve bandicap—not a great length, but nice and straight. “Splendid!” cried Rollo, devoutly. “Oh, I don’t know,” sald Mary, wouldn't call it anything special Titanic emotions were surging In Roll bosom as he addressed his ball. “Oh, Mary—Mary!” he breathed to himself as he swung. You, who squander your golden youth fooling about on a bowling green, will not understand the magic | of those three words. But if you were | a golfer, you would realize that 1n] selecting just that invocation to breathe to himself Rollo Podmarsh had hit by sheer accident on the ideal method of achleving a fine drive. Let me explain. The first two. words tensely breathed, are just sufficient to take a man with the proper slow- ness to the top of his swing; the first syllable of the second “Mary” exactly coincldes with the striking of the ball; and the final “ry!” takes care of the follow through. The consequence was that Rollo’s ball, instead of Hop- ping down the hill ltke an embar- rassed duck, sang off the tee with a scream ltke a shell and came to rest within easy distance of the green. For the first time in his golfing life, Rollo Podmarsh had hit a nifty. Mary followed the ball's flight with astonished eyes. “But this will never do!" she ex- clalmed. “I can't possibly start you two up If you're going to do this sort of thing."” Rollo blushed. “I shouldn't think it would happen again,” he sald. “I've never done a drive like that before.” “But it must happen again” sald Mary firmly. “This is evidently your day. If you don't get round in under a hundred today, I shall never for- gtve you. Rollo shut his eyes and his lips moved feverishly. He was register- ing & vow that, come what might, he would not fail her. A minute later he was holing out in 3, one under bogey. Shall 1 T * % & % HE second hole is the short lake- hole. Bogey is 3 and Rollo generally did it iIn 4, for it was his custom mnot to count any balls he might sink in the water, but to start sfresh with the one which happened to get over and then take 3 putts. But today something seemed to tell him that he would not require the aid of this ingenfous system. As he took his mashle from the bag he knew that his first shot would spar successfully onto the green. “Ah, Mary!” he breathed as. he swung. I will explain that in altering and shortening his sollloquy at this Jjuncture, Rollo had done the very thing any good pro would -have recommended. “Ah, Mary!” was exactly right for a half-swing with the mashie. His ball shot up in a beautiful arc and trickled to within six inches of the hole. Mary was delighted. There was something about this big, diffident man which had appealed from the first to everything in her that motherly. ‘Marvelous!” she sald. “You'll ‘get a two. Five for the first two holes! ‘Why, you simply must get-round in under a hundred now.” She swung, but too lightly, and her ball fell in the wate: “I'll giveryou this" she said, “without the slightest chagrin, for this girl had a beautiful nature. “Let's get on to the third. Four up ‘Why, you're wonderful!” Pa Not to weary you with too much detail, I will simply remark that, stimulated by her gentle encourage: ment,’ Rolly Podmarsh actually came. off the ninth green with a medal' score of forty-six for the half-round, with the easier half of the course be~ He tingled all over—partly he was wearing the new win< ter woollles to which I have alluded, previously, but principally owing to. triumph, elation and love. Mary ‘uttered an exclamatiom. “Oh, ‘Tve just remembered she | jexclaimed. “I promiséd to write last night to' Jane Simpson and ‘give her that new formuss fur jumpers. ‘1 think I'll phone h trom the clubhouse, and ten: off my mind: - ¥ou go on to the tepth, and I'll Juin you there.” K 9 Rollo ‘proceeded over ‘the brow of the hill to the tenth tee,-and was fill- ing in the time with practice swings when he heard his name spoken. *Good gracious, Rollo! I coyldat belieye it waa you at Smst? - was |- Rollo was moved. “Dear little Letty! fully sympathetic. “Well, I must be off now,” sald Enid Willoughby. “I'm late. * * * Oh, talking of Letty, don't children say the funniest things! She wrote in her letter that you were very old and wretched, and that she wes going to put you out of your misery.” “Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Rollo. “We had to poison poor old Ponto the other day, you know, and poor little Letty was inconsolable till we explained to her that it was really the kindest thing to do, because he was 0 old and 11l But just imagine her thinking of wanting to end your sufferings! a-ha!" e His volce trailed off into a broken gurgle. Quite suddenly a sinister thought had come to him. The arrowroot had tasted rummy! “Why, what on earth is the mat- ter?" asked Mrs. Willoughby, regard- ing his ashen face. Rollo could find no words. He yammered speechlessly. Yes, for several nights the arrowroot had tasted very rummy. Rummy! There was no other adjective. Even as he plied the spoon, he had said to him- self: “This arrowroot tastes rummy!” And he uttered a sharp velp as he remembered—it had been little Let- She is wonder- laughed Rollo. “Ha-ha- “MY HERO,” MURMURED MARY. tice who had brought it to him! He recollected being ‘touched at the time by the kindly act. _“What is the matter, Rollo?" de- manded Mrs. Willoughby eharply. “Dén’t stand there looking like a dying duck.” . - “l am a dying duck,” esponded Rolly, Hoarsely. “A dying man, I mean. Enid that infernal child has poisoned me!" ¥Don’t- be ridiculous! And kindly don’t speak of her Iike that!" ‘“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t blame her, 1 suppose. ‘No @dobt her motives were good. But the fact remains—"" “'Rnllo; you're -too absurd.’ ‘But the arrowroot tasted rummy.” 1 never” knew you could be such an idiot,” said his-exasperated sister, with sisterly outspokenness. *I thought you would think it quaint.’ T thought you would. roar- with laughter.” ; “1 did—till 1-Temembered about the | rumminess of the arrowroot.” Mrs. Willoughby uttered “an impa- tient exclamation and walked away. i B - ) OLLO PODMARSH stood on the tenth tee, a, volcapo,_of mixed emotions. Mechanically be pulled out __Bis pipe and Mt'th Byt Be found that 1923—PART 5. he could not smoke. In this supreme crisis of his life tobacco seemed to have lost its magic. He put the pipe back In his pocket and up to his thoughts. gripped lim—anon a sort of gentle melancholy. It was so hard that he should be compelled to leave the world just as he had begun to hit ‘em right. . And then in the welter of his thoughts there came one of practical value—to wit; that by hurrying to the doctor's without delay he might yet be saved. There might be anti- dotes. He turned to go—and there was Maury Kent standing beside him with her bright, encouraging smile, “I'm so sorry I kept you so long, she safd. “It's your honor. Fireaway, :|and remember that you've got to do this nine in fifty-three at the out- side. Rollo's thoughts flitted wistfully to the snug surgery where Dr. Brown was probably sitting at this moment surrounded by the finest antidotes. “Do you know, I think I ought to— “Of course, you ought to,” sald Mary. “If you did the first nine in forty-six, you can't possibly take fifty-three coming In.” For one long moment Rollo con- tinued to hesitate—a moment during vhich the instinct of eelf-preserva- tiont seemed as if it must win the day. But there is a deeper, nobler instinct than that of self-preservation. the instinctive desire of a golfer who is at the top of his form to go on and beat his medal-score record. If, he felt, he went off now to take anti- dotes, the doctor might possibly save his life; but reason told him that never again would he be likely to do the first nine in forty-six. S Rollo Podmarsh hesitated no longer. With a pale set face, he teed up his ball and drove. If I were telling this story to & golfer, nothing would please me bet- ter than to describe shot by shot Rollo's progress over the remaining nine holes. But these details would, Iam aware, be wasted on you. Let it suffice that by the time his last ap- proach trickled onto the eighteenth green he had taken exactly fifty shots. “Three for {t!" said Mary Kent. “Steady, now. Take it quite easy, and be sure to lay your second dead. It was prudent counsel, but Rollo was now thoroughly above himself. He had got his feet wet in 2 puddle on the sixteenth, but he did not care. His winter woollles seemed to be lined | with ants, but he ignored them. All \he knew was that he was on the | 1ast green in ninety-six, and he meant |to fintsh in style. No tame three | putts for him. His ball was five yards {away, but he almed for the back of | the hole and brought his putter down | with a whack. Straight and true the | ball sped, hit the dish, jumped high in the alir and fell into the hole with a rattle. o “Oh!” cried Mary. * %k * ¥ OLLO PODMARSH wiped his fore- head and leaned dizzlly on his putter. He had achleved his life’s ambition, but what now? Already he was consclous of a curlous discom- fort within him. He felt as he sup- posed Italians of the middle ages must have felt after dropping in to take pot luck with the Borgias. It was hard. He had gone round in ninety-seven, but he could never take the next step gn the career which he had mapped out in his dreams—the money match with the lumbago- stricken Col. Bodger. Mary Kent was fluttering round him, bubbling congratulations, but Rollo sighed. “Thanks" he said. “Thanks very much. But the trouble Is, I'm afrald I'm going to die almost immediately. T've been poisoned!” “Polsoned!’ “Yes. Nobody is to blame. Every- thing was done with the best inten- tions. But the fect remains.” “But I don't understand.” Rolio explained. Mary pallidly. “Are you sure?’ she gasped. “Quite sure,” sald Rollo gravely. “The arrowroot tasted rummy.” “But arrowroot always does.” Rollo shook his head. “No,” he sald. “It tastes like warm blotting paper, but not rummy.” Mary was snifiing. “Don’t cry,” urged Rollo tenderly. “Don’t ery. “But T must. And without & handkerchief. “permit me,” said Rollo, producing one of her best from his left breast pocket. “I wish T had a powder puff,” said Mary. “Allow me,” said Rollo. “And your hair has become & little disordered. If I may—" and from the same reser- voir he drew a handful of hairpins. Mary gazed at these exhibits with amazement. “But—but these are mine!” she ex- claimed. “Yes. 1 sneaked them from time to time.” “But why?" “Because I loved you,” said Rollo. And in a few moving sentences which I will not trouble you with he went on to elaborate this theme. Mary listened with her heart full of surging emotions. The scales had fallen from her eyes. She had thought slightingly of this man because he had been 2 little overcareful of his health; and all the time he had had within him the potentiality of herofsm! “Rollo!” she cried, and flung her- self into his arms. Mary!” muttered Rollo, gathering her up. T told you it was all nohsense,” sald Mrs. Willoughby, coming up at this tense moment and going on with the conversation where she had left off. “I've just seen Letty, and she #ald she meant to put you out of your misery, but the chemist wouldn't sell her any polson, 8o she let it go." | Rello disentangled himself from Mary. “What!” he cried. Mrs. Willoughby repeated her re- marks. “You're sure? he said. “Of course I'm sure.” “Then why did the arrowroot taste rummy?* “I made inquiries about that. Tt seems that mother was worried about your taking to smoking, and sh found an advertisement In one of the magazines—The ‘Tobacco Hablt Cured in Three Days’ by & sefret method without the victim's knowledge. It was & gentls, safe, agreeablo method listened 've come out mes To Zoing to change my wet shoes again of eliminating the nicotine poison from the system, strengthening the weakened membranes and overcom- ing the craving, so she put some in your arrowroot every night.” There was a long sflence. To Rollo Podmarsh it seemed as though the sun | had suddenly begun to shine, the birds to sing and the grasshoppers to toot. “Mary,” he sald In a low, vibrant volce, “will you waiy here for me? I want to go Into the clubhouse for 2 momen “To change your wet shoes?” “No!” thundered Rollo. “I'm never P. G. WODEHOUSE. in my life!” He felt in his pocket and hurled 2 box of patent pills far into the undergrowth. “But I am going to change my winter woolles . ...And when I've put those dashed’ barbed-wire entanglements into’ the clubheuse furnace, I'm going to phone to old Col. Bodgers. I hear his lume~ bago's worse than ever. I'm golng to fix up a match with him for 88 cents a hole. And if I don't lick the boots off him, you can break tha en- gagement.” “My he: murmured Mary. Rollo kissed her, and with long, resolute steps strode to the clubhouse, (Copyright, 1923.) Adventures in Paris (Continued from First Page.) mer tripp—boyhood friends, office companions, fellow law students, even several bright young office boys whom he had patronized in a high way of early days. They were now COrpora- tion counsel, bank directors, trust magnates and treasurers and presi- dents of God knows what not! When he heard some careless word dropped of thelr Incomes he had a he braced himself with truth. He, Heilig, was the fortunate youth. He had made the great discovery! He had always worked hard, every morning, all the morning, a long morning, without interruptions. So, he found every afternoon free. The great discovery! It remained invariable. “Every afternoon free, in the City of Pleasure!” Now, there’s a regime to keep & man young! Bah! Bah! Young in pocket! 1L Heilig Tells N those days there were no motor cars. It was thought good fun to pile into an open cab (40 cents per hour, .one good horse and one jolly cabby In white coat, white top-hat and red nose); and, my gosh, yes, I think we sang as we jogged out to Bougival on the river! We splashed in cances and drank pink wine in “bosquets” (shady little playhouses of greenery) while a Jot of clothes were drying on the bushes. The pink wine was thin and safe (white Loire wine blushing for its weakness is strong Spanish red wine | casks) with just enough kick to con- | tinue singing nicely. And, because we had no motor car, we had time | for everything, and in particular to eat what luscious cookery, and how much of.it! We jogged home at twi- 1ight, the cab piled with lilacs or any {0ld weed In season. Only once the pink stuff got us. | Two heroes (one a high placed Amer- fcan diplomat today in Britain's produest center!) certainly sat on a bench in the Autell commissariat. Where were Joe and Jim and Polly and her aunty, and the others? Saved, we hoped fervently, not drowned! “You will get two years for this!” a big, round-faced police- man rumbled. And the pens scratched as the hours passed. Interrupted suddenly the Auteull com- missary. And, with him, surprise in person! “Are you better? Are you sleepy?” he cooed, patting, mother- ke, the future diplomat. “If you have no money left, why I can loan you——" hesitating, blushing, even, the good big man patted the pride of the Sunday papers with the other hand. “We have pacified your cab- man, who was quite ferocious. Such a nials, foolish, silly! He is at your service Then, consulting at the desk, “Bien, bien, we have theif money. Henri, give them back their money, in-te- grale-ment! Now, young gentlemen, I need not tell you, Paris is a gentle city, but one does not invite danger.” It was thirty years ago, I tell you. A police commissary is still & very big man. As he strolled with us in the starlight to the grinning cabman, the dread chief asked, timidly and low, a service of us. ou, messieurs, are foreigners, Americans, and doubtless receive many letters. My young son makes a collection of postage stamps, and so Intelligent, ambitious, In a lad of ten! Even duplicates, he tells me, dupli- cates in number, he can exchange them. All' are useful. Messieurs, could you, perhaps, would you—-=" * K X X 'UST llke that, he said it. We re- plied appropriately. As we rode off, diplomat-to-be sald: “My dear ‘Watson, you percelved his motive? Truly, there was the French polite- ness which one reads of. French tact, French care for the gentle name of Parls, French judgment of character, not to injure two young men of value. He desired to put us at our ease ‘He did,” T said grateful. 3 “He sacrified himself to save our pride. He found a way to put him- self under obligation. He don't’ want those common American stamps.” Thirty years ago! -1 deemed my companion's reasoning good. It en- tered into my. consclousness. And I'll say this—thirty times in the years intervening, 1 have stopped.in time, turned down my glass, and drunk water gladly—as a silent toast to that French man of heart and brain, the Commissary of Auteull! 1 tell my little story large, because it seems to sum up, really, all the from the Paris that we loved—and loved to write about. Do not trust to postage stamps to- day, or heart, or tact, at Auteuil, Bougival, or Montmartre. So could certity two of our very first-class men and the helptul secretary of the Anglo-American Association on whom they called their S. O. §. so vehem- ently. For that matter, I cannot see why any regular newspaper man should take the Paris post. Of course, was not one such. But, also, let youths fresh from law studies hesi- tate to come and write of life and 1iving. As for the trained newspaper man from home, he gleeps late in the morning, heavily—trom sheer fatigue, He has no time for life or living. Every afternoon he works In the City of Pleasure. Dally he must pre- pare himself by carefully reading twenty papers. He must skim the needful from them. Then the work begins, Work, worry. Worry lest some smart competitor beats him on ftems; worry lest he lose his job by cable; ruwont Paris for squib in- By “gone" feeling in the etomach. But changes that have come to Paris! terviews with great men; Worry about credentials, ever changin He must break engagements to rush off to Switzerland or any ether God-forgotten conference; keep tab of cable tolls; keep his news-tipiters’ net unbroken; kill time nervously in walting rooms of cabinetministers, ambassadors and others; chase our visiting senators and other Ameri- cans in public view; and send off cables, cables, cables, dry squibs, blank routine news. At 2 a. m. he is free to fall down on his bed, exhausted. If, at times, he seeks Montmartre or other gayety, it must be in establishments marked off as “the” thing. He goes to it— the establishment, the label He himself counts nothing. Why, the old fun used to be to make your own fun, almost anywhere. * % % % AM not sure which hurt our Paris most—the war or the motor cas, which came so long before it. And, note the sheer cruelty of these thingal The old Paris, bitten to the gizzard, is still purely, simply, the sweet Parls which men hope to visit some day. The motor car exalted things. Dire grain of sand in the bearings. The car made things interesting, rather than people and their doings. Nowa- days people, to be interesting, must have known names, and the names must be given—things, things! The car quite spolled cookery—no time to eat, no time for table talk. ‘The car spolled all fun of exploring old Paris. It Is too near, too slow. The car killed all the dear little near- by suburban resorts like “Robinson.” The car killed even night life—all spontaneous gayvety. The. youth which lived it, needs its sleep for the rush tomorrow. With the motor car the world is always going somewhere; but it never stays there long enough to do or to be. So, doing In itself, has lost its vogue and interest. Gawp at things. Keep moving. There is no time to talk, of course—yet talk made gay Parfs. The new man Is never long enough in any one set to get ac- climated. Or, rather, he is in the set of others like himself—look, soe! Things! Things witk labels! The wai, in its turn, exalted facts and news. Down with all flub-dub! (Flub-dub means life and living.) The war brought to Parls so many . highly capable home newspaper men that the home reader, reading so much news, news (news is all that he can handle) that he or she comes to have —God help us'—a news point of view of Europe! Of Europe, too compli- cated to have a news point of view of itself. - And of France, sweet France! They did not all learn French, of course, those cablers of the news. So, you see life through the haze of news —things—Ilabels! Parls, too, is deeply influenced, a-straddle news and things. Alas, dear Paris, will you be the slave of labels? I think not. But who knows? Light to Trap Moths. THE beet ranches of southern Cal- ifornia are protected from the ravages of the night-fiying moths, most cutworm moths, by an ingenlous light trap set up in the flelds; a single trap capturing from 1,500 to 7,000 moths In & single night. One com- pany has eight such traps In use and during the past season the results were equal to the highest expecta- tions. The device is of reasonably simple construction, belng a powerful light inclosed in a glass globe and sus- pended over a shallow galvanized iron pan containing oil. The Insects, | fiying againet the globe, fall into the pan and perish In great numbers. As a large proportion of the moths are females, carrying great quantities of eggs, the results of a season’s catch can easily mount high In the millions. The light is furnished by acetylene gas, a tank being set below the frame carrying the tank,though an electric light has been used with equal sut- cess. Curious Use for Ice. P to the present it has been pos- sible to leave only small cavities in concrete, but & big advance has + been brought about by a new fareign | method. Pleces of ice that corre- spond to the measurements of the cavity required are embedded in the concrete mass, and small channels are {left to allow the water to run off when the fce melts. The process is of particular advantage in reinforc- {ing concrete with iron. The firon Iparts are not built in during the stamping, ‘but are attached to the blocks of ice before the work is be- gun. The repeated molistening usu- ally necessary In concrete work fs not required In this process, for the melting of the jce makes up the loss Ly evaporation. Age of the Ocean. .., "THE ocean 1s not, of course, as old as the earth, since it could not bs formed until the surface of the globs had cooled sufficlently to retain water on it. It may, thereforé, seem chimerical to try to measure $he age lot the sea, but the task has been undertaken. The estimate has been based upon the ratio of sodium the sea contains to that annuaiiy oo tributed by the washings from the continents. The conclusion’ has thus been reached that the ocean has been in existence between 80,000.000 and 170,000,000 of years. This does not j8cem to be'a very definite determina- tion, but, in geology, estimutes of {ime in Fears are extiemely dimocult use of the uncertainty of the ments of caloulation,