Evening Star Newspaper, June 7, 1925, Page 72

Heap Big Squaw UT alas! there entefed an old fairy who had not been in- vited to the christening. The carriage had not stop- ped before the old lady began vapping impatiently upon its window with the head cf her care. The foot- man, as had been hi bit for half a fentury, sC n from the box descent, and, for 50 ye: him and re- but with ation, she hobbled pavement to the her cane tap- blind man in ress’ habit swered at Tremulousl of fierce delib upon the the slippery of the house, that of the Island.” e sis wite's bedroom, Joma- Ryder heard the tapping and grinned. How could she Suest, have heard so soon? He glanced over his sh der at his three-hour-old daughter, lying in a ribboned bassi- net but dmother had ways of hearing things. . . . The bell screeched through the house and May ler, on the bed, opened her eves and murmured incoherently. Jonatha der cursed the lady who had b 'e mother of his grand- father's eight brothers and went out into the hall and down the stairs, to as had been the old lady fused his aid. the first flight shoes echoi reat-grandson looked her in admiration mind, Grandmother,” “I'll bring the heavy down at ever softly. baby > didn’t know whether it was good for such a new baby to be brought down, and he had waited through 10 vears of marriage for this occasior but anything was better than that Ffs andmother should clump e of his wife. rled brow: ace of Dorcas with its high cheekbones, nose and straight, thin lips, fted to his; those e; of hers eyes which shone with the brightfess ofta : g rested upon his face “You t stairs? He had climb a her, aer is blocking But Ma% I saw her he brurhed & |others its furnishings ne unupholstered chair— and waited. Jo nd the nurse and s sleeping, and the bedroom. approvingly > as the white she extended se shook a hyglenically ps. Jonathan some amusement. undered Dorcas e sleeping infant. carried the youngest piano benc nd with del move. she unfolded the blankets and upon at-grand. The nurse 3 4, half in horror; no act of vio. lence would have surprised them. For a long minute the old lady started at the bady: then, though she were bly finished with the small she rned aw “You can her k!" she addressed the lected the the pi nathan nts. gazed irrevoc thing take ndson smiled, in relief. name her Dorc; an cas Ryder, flatly, “I will money. She's a fine long- As her greatgrandson urned upon him She'll be a woman®” she prophesied, angrily he'll bear sons and take life in her two hands that wife of yours. Black lfke her great-great-great grand- he exploded the four ke shot from a cannon. he commanded. “The third in a sort of fury mother “greats “Dorcas Doreas! She « through door. moving to the window, saw her slap back proffered arm of the foot- man rriage drawn away And wit . the oid fairy van! ed forever from their sight down Jonathan Ryder, mped ‘s finger pressed upon name—Dorcas, sur- nknown and in her great- andmother’'s sharp writing, Christian Indfan . . . Her moved down the page of the genealogy, one. three, five—12 chil tren! She pushed the book away and began figuring. Her greatgreat- greatgreat dmother! Indian! T why she didn't look like the other little girls, why her dark hair was so straight and thick, why she could run so fast and climb so surel ‘Dor surname whispered, to herseif. That was why, when Tommy March had pounded her finger with a ham- mer, she had said that word, instead £ It had been better, braver, t, to say that word, but her mother would have prefered that she tried. Mama couldn’t imagine where she had heard that word She unfolded her legs, brown legs, and scampered stairs to her mirror. Indian! She stared at her face, at the faint line of her high cheekbones. Indian! It almost made up for not being pretty. unknown,” she her long up the the uninvited | he ! +tha few laid | the stairs and | A Romantic Tale of Ever since her fifteenth birthday, a week ago, Dorcas Ryder had wanted terribly to be pretty. She untied the black taffeta rib- bon from her hair and parted it in the middle, drew the comb through its tangles with that stoical brutality which always made her mother shiv- er. Two long braids, one over each shoulder. Mama would never let her wear her hair that way. She swooped upon the rug at the foot of her bed, the Navajo rug which an uncle had sent her from Arizona. She heard |her mother coming in. Dorcas ran to |the landing, folded her arms across | her breast, hugging th- blanket close. Her mother's head was down: she | did not see her until she was almost upon her; her pale blus eyes became | startled, terrified. Dorcas stood, expressionless, arms immobile over her hreast. “Dorcas!” said her mother. A voice, deep, solemn, Issued from the lips which had been pressed so tightly together. “Ugh!” grunted Dorcas, gutterally. “Ugh! Me heap big Indian squaw! Ugh! Ugh!™ That night May Ryder told her husband that she was goin: to put Doreas into sanesl in France im- mediately. * ok ok w RCAS held to the railing of tuc deck and looked down upon the ocean which was sliding in continu- ‘us seething layers to the edge of the hip. Beneath a close hat of yellow feit, iher black hair swept against her |cheeks; her dark shes, heavy with salt spray, fluttered protectingly over ] eyes: straight red lins parted, !as she panted in her effort to move against the wind. Three years of | that old-world civilization which Mrs. Ryder esteemed so highly had done things to the girl. Grace had come into these long legs and arms; poise mingled with the pride which always had held the dark head high . . . |and Indian ancestors were forgotten. She fought her way steadily until, {turning a corner, she found herselt staring down upon that deck where ge passengers aired them- Some of them were hudd’el, wrapped in blankets and shawls, | leaning against ropes and capstans: voung and straight-limbed proud, more like herself than |and “ | most of her first-class fellows, plowed | back and forth. Admiration lizhted her eyes as she singled out tha strid- |ing figure of a young man, swayving with the grace and surety of a ship's cat, his bared, dark head glistening with moisture. A small boy darted across the deck; as she watched him, the impact of that great wave, out of rhythm with |the storm, a wave of waves, mount- ing massively and descending in a |fury that smashed and shattered {throughout the entire ship, pulled Dorcas’ hands from the railing, sent |her sliding down a steep incline toward that boiling sea, beyond the further rail. Almost as soon as she had recovered her feet, her eyes sought the deck below; figures were rushing about in a swirl of shallow water, and the tall young man, hold |ing in his arms a small body whose |head hung limply, dripping Dbilood, |was looking straight at her and shouting. “Come down here—quick!” Tt was not only English; it was the accent of her own Boston. “Hurry'" She had not yet made up her mind to obey, when she found herself at the foot of the stairs, looking into the man’s face. “Thrown against a capstan,” he said, briefly, looking down at the boy. “These immigrants are all too crazy to be of any help—come on in here.” | “But rean Dorcas planted her feet firmly upon the wet deck. “Hadnl you better call one of the doctors? ~ I'm not a nurse.” She looked, with distaste, but no particu- lar horror, upon the blood which | gushed through the boy’s matted hair. “They're busy prescribing for the seasick dowagers,” the young man retorted. doctor, anyway.” She was moving, beside him, toward 2 doorway, and as they reached it in- dignation flamed within Dorcas. What was she doing, here in the steerage, with a wild-eyed young man who said he was a doctor and a dirty little boy with a cut head? She didn’t like dirty people. The frightened immigrants made way promptly at the curt Itallan of the young doctor's command; while Dorcas still rebelled and stared about her, with angry eyes, she found her- self sitting with a small boy’s dirty, blood-stained head resting upon her lap. She felt curiously detached, in her anger, whem the doctor reap- peared with his kit; her firm hands on the brown curls did not tremble when 'the boy opened his eyes and began to scream, when a chorus of screams from the immigrant women followed his. She found it rather ex- traordinary that the terse vofce which silenced the women could become as soothing, as tender, as it did in ad- dressing the youngster. He had sewn together the separated flesh as though it had been so much rubber in a torn raincoat, and now his dark blue eyes were gentle, friendly, as his altered voice poured forth a flow of liiting Italian which she did not un- derstand. Dorcas rose and made a grimace of disgust as she wiped her skirt with her handkerchief; silently the doctor gave her a towel. “YOU CAN NAME HER DORCAS,” ANNOUNCED DORCAS RYDER FLATLY. I WILL LEAVE HER MY MONEY. SHE'S LIKE ME— BLACK, LIKE HER CRANDMOTHER.” INDIAN GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT- P Heredity and Society. “Well, I guess you have some of vour old Indlan grandma in you, after all’” he sald and chuckled. Dorcas Ryder stared, the distaste which any mention of that unfortu- nate connection had come to bring her choked back by surprise. “What do_you mean?’ she demanded. They had emerged agali. upon the deck and the cool wind was good upon her cheeks; a smile twisted the lips of the young doctor. “Dorcas the first!” laughed. “Who are you?” He was watching her in open amusement. “The black sheep of Bay State Road, he answered, gravely, “Gregory March.” Gregory March! The older, wilder brother of Tommy, who had pounded her finger with a hammer! “But what are you doing in the steerage””’ r voice was an almost perfect copy of her mother’s, disapproving, a trifle superior. Gregory March continued to grin. he said and " he said, impatient- 1y "Il be out here tomorrow morn- Ing and you might come dewn and help me look the kid over. There's no need of calling the ship’s doctor away from his wealthy sufferers— probably scare the kid to death.” * o ok % | HE s3; cbove and the ocean below it were brilliantly blue; they were two days out of New York. Seasick passengers had recovered and prom- enaded the decks. New York in two deys: then Boston and all her old friends, the excitement that would precede her eighteenth birthday. And the eighteenth birthday itself! As though being 18 and coming out form- ally were not enough, there was the inherftance of that odd and eccentric lady, her greatgreat-grandmother! And yet . . Dorcas leaned back in the steamer chair and sighed. At her right, her mother, pallid and uneasy even in the suniit calm, was reading a novel; at her left, Dickie Lverett leaned toward her “Oh, he’s a tough nut, all right!” Dickie was saying, and involuntarily they each glanced back towa beside an Italian girl thing, for Instance. Why should he travel steerage? Wouldn't you think he'd be ushamed, right out there in broad daylight where we can all look down at him”" Dorcs.s. shrugged. “Perhaps we ought to be ashamed of looking down,” she murmured, and her mother, whose attention was never wholly occupied by her reading. frowned at her, smiled at Everett, and murmured, “How ab- surd of you, Dorcas” all in one mo- ment. “He's going back to take another course at Harvard Medical” Dickie continued. “He’s been going to col- lege for about the last 12 vears—ever since he graduated and se his penance In some hospital, he's been | ducking in and out from all over the world."” It occurred to Dorcas that Dickie, himself, might have continued at Har vard for 12 consecutive years without ever attaining the diploma his parents subject which held her attention. “A wild egg” he murmured. “Tommy gives me some of the gossip about him—he'll romp off to some South Sea Island and discover some disease the place—an’ then come back fo school for just long enough to study about it. Then off he goes while the profs are getting ready for his next day's lesson!” Dorcas smiled faintly, and by an ef- fort did not permit her gaze to travel again to the steerage deck. Gregory March was certainly a strange man! She had appeared, as she had sworn to herself she would not, the morning after her meeting with him, only to find the clean bandage completed and that Italian girl with whom he was now talking holding the boy upon her lap! “Thought you weren't coming,” he greeted her, unceremoniously. “Rosa here helped me. She's a born nurse. Y'm trying to convinee her to go to training school after she gets to the States. She’s going to Boston, by the way.” He made no move of introduc- Ing the two women, and the open mis- trust in the immigrant girl's eyes was not much more strong _than the mis- trust half-veiled by Dorcas’ poise. He had said something, in Italian, and the girl's stormy eyes softened, began to sparkle; her lips bared straight white teeth and she looked at Dorcas and laughed. There had been no rea- son for Dorcas to leap to the econ- clusion that they were laughing at her, yet that was what she had done. She had returned to her own place in the ship, indignant, and furious with herself for being so. What did she care about Gregory March? The answer that she cared nothing at all was obvious, and somehow unconvinec- ing. * ox ok X JORCAS’ consciousness of having on an exceptionally smart and be- coming new suit had ebbed. The long straight lines of the red woolen cloth clung becomingly to her arrowlike fig- ure, and she had been fully aware of the fact that the seal of the deep cuffs and collar was no blacker than the curves of gleaming hair upon her brown cheeks. But the spell of a new suit cannot last indefinitely, and Dorcas found herself forgetting it and contemplating the evening with bore- dom. Dickie Everett and her sister, the Thorndike boys, Lucia Sears— perhaps life would be less dull when she was really out. It began to snow and she walked more quickly, head a little down, so that she did not ree Gregory March coming toward her until they had nearly collided. As recognition flashed into her eyes, the Joyous consciousness of the new suit, of the background of white snow and tall, leafless poplars surged over her like a wave. “Hello,” she said, offering him her hand. And as he =miled, “You're the most unsociable neighbor I've ever seen in my life!” . He answered something about being busy, but Dorcas could see that he was a trifle confused by her, and by that radiance which the new suit and ‘weather absolutely suited to her cos- tume had shed over her. Unfairly, almost maliciously, she seized ad- vantage of his confusion; he must come to see her this very evening! A few people were coming in . . . and since he seemed so preoccupied with odd and curious people, she was sure he'd be overwhel: by meeting Lucia Sears. He had accepted almost awkwardly, and Dorcds’ head was held high against the falling snow as she completed her walk home. Her luck was on red, she decided, gayly—without pausing to probe into her reasons for terming Gregory'’s call “luck”—and she changed to a dinner dress of red velvet, a straight-cut dress medieval in simplicity and ro- mantic suggestion. And her luck did not fail her. Gregory, arriving late, seemed to be fighting that impuilse of his eyes to return again and again to the dress and the girl. Dickic Everett watched him with a sort of amused tolerance; his pride in Dorcas was already of a slightly proprietary nature—Mrs. Ryder had seen to that. ““Well, how's your Italian girl?” Dorcas demanded when she had separated Gregory from the others. Gregory March made a slight grim- d that | lower deck where Gregory March stood | That sort of | | second-class ade o had desired for him, but she didn't sav | St Imoxietags Aiek so, and he continued, grateful for a|g no one has ever had outside | HE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, JU By Phyllis Duganne ace. “Rosa? She’s living in the north end and she’s golng to be married.” Dorcas smiled. “You don’t sound very pleased about it “I'm not. The gentleman of her choice combines a jall record with an unkoly thirst for liquor.” “And one more trained nurse is lost to the cause of science,” Dorcas mur- mured, lightly. “Yes." " Agam it seemed an effort for him to remove his eyes from her face. “I'm doing some work up there in the north end,” he said. ‘“Fascinat- ing people, those Italians. I like 'em. And T get some of the worst cases! Why——" “When you're treating a sick per- son, you certainly like him to be sick, don’t you? Dorcas commented, cu:. ting short any description of ail- ments. “I've never been able to cultivate a very good bedside manner for neurotic ladies,” Gregory admitted. “Your Lucia Sears,' for example—"" 1 thought she'd interest you!" ,_“But she doesn’t in the least. I like ‘em_healthy—like you." “Oh, do You like me?" she demand- » 1 rather moved back uneasily. you're all right. You've got backbone than most of ‘em.” “T'm to suspect you're an!” You want a woman “Oh, more that she accused him. ) as is a woman p this mate stuff! A squaw—" She flushed, and Gregory March, find ing comfort in her embarrassment, grinned. “A squaw!" he repeated, watching her blush deepen. “Affer you've knocked about in the jungles a bit you see the advantages of it. When ever I come back to what is known as ctvilization I'm always dumbfound ed that no bird has started a rights for men campaign. They're all so woman-ridden, these men of yours. Take Everett. Mother, sisters—he's entirely feminized. I'd like to see the good old days when the ladies left the dinner table and the men—— ““Were men,” completed Dorcas, a trifle viciously Gregory said: “It seems to me that the sexes—male and she—are losing equally in dignity. You women, with your ‘Me, too.” attitudes! Even if you | can’t bear letting the men out of your | sight for an hour, vou ought at least to pretend you can get along without | ‘em! You v “You know.” said Dorcas stiffty, “ think you're being rather insulting.’ She sat erect, eyes hard and angry and Gregory found himself again thinking of that JIndian ancestress w¥ho had become legend in the Ryder amily. Gregory March wakn't conscious of any deliberate intention; there was merely the polgnantly vivid impres ston of this girl before him—this girl so slim and straight and so com pletely what a woman should be. She had risen from her chair, and Gregory rose, too, and kissed her squarely upon her mouth. There was a breath less, tense moment of waiting before Dorcas spoke in the most chillingly clipped tones Gregory had ever heard “Really. Mr. March,” she said, as though she were speaking down to him from a height—from, perhaps, the to the you do that sort of thing Your junmgles may have aught you some things, but- 2 he shrugged and was still seemingly disinterested in any attempt to dis engage herself. Gregory March stared at her. In that instant when he had taken her his arms it seemed as though all had been leading to that very “or a second longer, a second that seemed interminable, he stood with his arms awkwardly about Dor- cas—his arms, Gregory March's arms—about Dorcas Ryder! Dorcas Ryder, no longer the living descendant of an Indian girl, but Dorcas of the Back Bay Ryders; Dorcas, who would inherit in less than a month a mil- lion dollars; Miss Ryder, who had been “finished” in Europe, who was so shortly to “come out.’ “Good ~ heaven: said Gregory March, and with a violence which tinged upon panic he thrust her back into her chair and bolted from the library. WX WA ICKIE EVERETT was not entire- Iy a fool, and he was mystified and even a little wary of Dorcas's new attitude toward him, her polite- ness, her—it was almost friendliness! And while Doreas expressed a burn- ing and consuming rage by this un- wonted serenity, Gregory Marci gave vent to his emctions by signing a con- tract to go, as doctor, with a cupper- mining toncern to South America Dorcas Feard that news withcu: « visible flicker of interest: in fact, its only effect upon her was such a gentleness toward Dickle Everett that Le cast aside his doubts and re- solved to ask her to marry himi that evening. “You're so pretty, Dorcas,” he said, moving to the couch beside her. “Oh™" eaid Dorcas. He writed, waited until the moment should seem entirely propitious. talk- ing Hghtly. picking up her hani end helding it In his before he isscd her. His emoticn was one of deepest fatal- ity. as the pushed him away. “Good heavens, Dickie!” she said. “Really, you are entirely too pro- ficient, my dear. You kiss a girl ltke some little mechanical toy that's wound up with a key—one, two, kiss! If I've got to be kissed at all, I'd rather have it done by some one a iittle less sure of how it's engineered in our best society! I'd as soon kiss mother's Peke. She blushed sud denly as at some recollection, and walking across to the table picked up a magazine. “Oh, Dickie, you bore me so! Do go away!" She waited until the outer door slammed befor she closed her fingers about the little blue china ash tray on the table and hurled it against the brick hearth of the fireplace. ““Oh, what a life!” wailed Dorcas, aloud, disgustedly. Gregory March lifted his hat and fell into step at Dorcas’ side. For half a block they were silent, Gregory looking down at her in an amusement which he half felt. There was & heavenly safety in the remembrance of that signed contract. Dorcas looked up &t him abruptly. “You know, I've been thinking over some of the things you said the other night—and maybe I was partly Wiong. “Oh, don’t say that!" he interrupted, grinning. *““What do you mean?” He looked away from the softness of her eyes and rhrugged; then, safe again, his grin returned. ‘“‘Merely that you're quite right, of course. In fact. it's my own discovery that all niy—er—convictions aren’t true m this world outside the jungle that has made me decide to go back to the places where they are truc. Dorcas hesitated. “But, I mean—I do think maybe we've all hecome feminized, as you said. I mean, softened.” “After you've come out you'll feel differently about thesé things, my dear,” he murmured, in a tone SO purely and accurately a burlesque of her mmother that Dorcas started. “But 1 don’t want to feel differ- ently,” she persisted. “I've just be- gun thinking and—" “May a young girl think before she T “GET THIS CROWD AWAY NE 7, 1925— PART 5. \ A0 AND HELP ME CARRY DR. MARCH INTO MY CAR.” SING A @.IQEM AN (4" DORCAS RYDER OF “YOU CAN ARREST ME LATER.” 71 |l 1 THE BACK BAY RYDERS WAS comes out?” Gregory inquired, polite- Dorcas glared at kim effort to restrain her ter things _you were women,” she faitered vou for hating most of the women we know. I'm—I'm sort of ashamed of being a woman myself, now that I'm beginning to realize how—womanized our men are! And = v very far back in you know,” he remind many greats is it her tee Gosh, she said. They for a moment, and stern face gave no signs of “When are you going and made an 1D Those saying about— “I don’t blame ed her. How Dorcas gritted you're ung walked in Gregory’s inner softening. ‘In two week She looked up at him, a quick, side- long glance which he avoided You're glad to go! “Why not? She probably would not see him again before he went, but even so| there was no sense in quarreling with him. He seemed to want to quarre ‘If you marry some South American squaw, do bring her to call on me!" she invited, politely I'll take her shopping.™ “I'm not_especially contemplating | matrimony,” he said “Though if I were, I'm afraid a squaWw is about the only sort of woman who'd put up with the life I'm going to be leading for the | next tweive months!" “l suppose youll find all sorts of nice gruesome cases to be taken car of down there!” said Dorcas, bitterly. “T hope so.” He lifted his hat, and paused. “This is my stop.” he ex- plained. “Good afternoon.” Dorcas strode angrily street to the hotel where meeting her mother for tea Civility was out of the question, civility to her mother who prattied exasperatingly about dressmakers and florists and caterers and guests for the party which was to take place in three days. Coming out! Coming out| where? i Dorcas, I never saw any girl so| ninterested in her own debut!” Mrs. | Ryder said, impatiently i * %% % JT_was the day of her party. and h down the | she was| coming-out | mother’s excitement | and emotionalism seemed almost in-| decent to Dorcas. All this squabbling, this frantic telephoning, this scheming | and plotting, to introduce her to peo- | ple whom she already knew, to state| to the world that she was of an age | for wooing and marriage. As she watched, aloofly, the prepara- tions, shame settled more and more heavily over her. How Gregory March must be laughing at the whole affair! Gregory, who thought she liked it all, who thought she wasn't worth jny- thing better, anything more real! Doreas seized her hat and coat and. with breathless, furtive haste, rushed down the stairs as one might rush from a burning building. She went to the garage and got her car; aimlessly. she turned into the Fenway. She was nervous, too, for she found her hands were trembling. To have to return to that house, to be dressed In the frock which hung glimmeringly on a scented hanger in the guestroom closet, to be arrayed for the world's inspection, the world's open knowledge of her availability! She felt a flerce sympathy with Gregory’s desire for dirty people with horrible ailments; she wanted to plunge herself into reality, into a world where people were alive. Gregory She wondered what those people were like with whom he worked, Rosa and those others of the North End. Rosa had had no coming- out party: she selected her man— with a jail record and an unholy thirst for liquor—and married him. It was all so simple. The North End. She hadn't been there since she was a lit- tle girl. The old North Church, where Paul Revere watched the lanterns; and somewhere, in that country where he had galloped to give the warning, the old Indian Dorcas had walked her | Rosa’s | tace « dently, egory himself smiled confl shaking his head. Flash back street, where Dorcas’ attentlon wn for an instant, in a attempt to avold running down she looked again steps of that dingy house—and rolling celluloid broke sharp at an end voice poured throat. “‘Gregory!" she shrieked, warn ingly regory!” Children scattered, screaming, as her car bounded ahead It was not a block—but to get there— in time! the u the play wa Dorcas’ into up her did not hear her. His face, turned to the old woman, had become grave. She, that old woman, saw what Dorcas saw, and her old eyes must re. terror that whitened the iregor Behind him, the doorw: regory’ swaying one huge hand clutch- drunkenly in |ing the framework for support, tow- ered a dark, angry man. One huge hand gripping the door frame and the other, lifting slowly, closed about something straight and black! “Gregory!"” The weapon descended upon Greg- ory March's head. Like a marionette whose wires have been cut, he seemed to fold grotesquely, rather than to fall, down the stairs. The conglomerate noise, of screams from the filling street, of the brakes of her car grating to a stop and of that horrible contact of the weapon striking Grego! head seemed to be pouring from Dorcas’ throat. Her mouth was wide open in her scarlet at, she hurtled herself, like an avenging fury whooping its battle cry, into the midst of the crowd and past Gregory’s body straight up the stone steps. Dimly she saw Rosa, white-faced, clinging to the man whose loosened fingers let fall a piece of lead pipe; as she swooped down to seize it in her own trembling grip, she heard scream, as though the Itallan &irl knew what she meant to do even before she knew herself, heard Rosa's words, separated from the roar that mounted about her: “It's the doc's girl * Kk % JDORCAS' right arm rose through the air. Her teeth gleaAmed white vindictive against her brown as she struck downward. with all the force of her young body— downward, until that other sound cut through the incredible roar, the most intensely gratifying sound Dorcas had ever heard in her life—of a heavy object ging through the air and hitting, with a thud, an object soft and resisting T Rosa’s drunken husband fell for- and t the tableau | ward down the steps. Dorcas gripped the railing and stared at what she had done: through voices which still were capable of mounting, ther ie Rosa's husky tones near her “He was mad the doc came to see me. told him not to come no_more. TR Then another volce, imperative, an official figure jostling through the crowd Dorcas Ryder, clutchin, lead pipe tigh dcseended ps. As she passed, exten small foot and kicked the limp bod of the man she had tried to kill. In & of half a hundred intent i | she lifted a white, triumphant 1 to the policeman. T hope 1 killed him'” she cried— and as though the sound of her own voice wrenched her back to of | st | over Gregory and pulled his head into her lap, pressing her lips upon his forehead. “Get this crowd away and help carry Dr. March into my ecar Dorcas Ryder of the Back B: Ryders was addressing a policeman “You can arrest me later. Hurry! “His fiancee?” Mrs. to the attendant. “May I see her It was all a nightmare, from which she must soon awaken; back, some- where, in another world, Dorcas’ coming-out party was mounting gayly; flowers, music, dancing—and not un til half an hour ago, when her ht band had burst into the room where she lay in the most cessful hys terics of a hysterical d: had the known where Dorcas was. And th to know! “I wish I had killed him:” says Back Bay debutante. cas Ryder, whose debut “‘Nightmare—nightmare!” repeated May Ryder, and darted after the white uniform. They appeared to he reaching some destination ar last; a white corridor, doors, some closed some half open, and. sitting like a figure of wood, in a white hospital chair outside a closed door. arms folded woodenly cver its breast, a scarlet figur “Dorcas! The door opened and the girl seemed changed to fluid: she almost flowed across the threshold, clung against the door frame. “He's regaining consciousness. He'll be all right. Behind he: daughter Mrs. Ryder stared and saw the body of Gregory March, head swathed in white bandages. lying on a bed. The nurse passed them, carry. ing a basin of blood-stained clo May Ryder swayved and sank into the chair her daughter had vacated “Dorcas, what does it mean? you engaged to that man?” Are =l fiercely | Ryder echoed, | had warm flowed into . Dorcas voice drifted back Color cheeks | evenly “I had to say | me in. Oh, mothe: | “But— Rez | 1essness of it a a th m to le: still s & | pap beinz news length | | met | wou | smiled. faint Th { sciousness, she dropped the pipe. hent | vhere back straining eole Ma sweep conversat Ryder saw from he over her almost drift to the edge of the bed. ite bandage. eves were said Dorcas, questio March looked up into |~ Th | Ry * said Dorcas, mphan art, t | over, mouth upon his (Copsright nventor Will Try to Cross Ocean With an Odd Little Half-Ton Glider (Continued from First Page.) legs ending in little cigar-shaped feet on the principle of the catamaran. These legs can be maneuvered and so can the “feet.” The monoplane wings, however, are rigid. The bow is flex- ible to let the water through when she “takes it green.” The boat part itself is closed up like a submarine, once the “‘oceanoplan” (to use another name Gasenko has invented) is under way. When Gasenko gets tired he purposes shutting off his engine and riding through a sleep like the lone ocean navigators. But that is admittedly only possible in fair weather. In bad weather the oceanoplan must be kept nose up to the wind and make more speed than the wind or outrun it. At least it is considered obvious now that if this little half-ton contrivance were left to the mercy of an Atlantic storm it could not survive. sons and grandsons and girded them for battle. Paul Revere's house 3 Copps Hill burying ground . . . Dorcas turned the car about and headed it into the city. She wanted, suddenly, to sea for herself. The streets, narrow and dark, were cluttered equally with rubbish and with children. Dorcas drove slowly, looking up at the windows of the tene- ments_and trying to visualize what sort of life went on in those rooms where these dirty, shrieking children were born and grew up and married, to bear, in turn, others like them: selves. Dirty, squalid . . . yet some- how she could not feel it more sordid than what she had left behind her, on Bay State road. She turned a corner sharply, honk- ing her horn to clear the street of boys playing marbles and girls playing hopscotch, and there, half a block ahead of her, Gregory's car was drawn up before a three-story brick house. She felt as though she were watch- ing a moving picture of Gregory March: beneath her the car crept, snalllike, toward the scene. He was mounting the stone .steps, his back toward her; like a_motion picture, she heard no words, but she saw an old woman, huddled in a woolen shawl, call to him from the street below, saw Gregory's face, smiling, friendly, turned over his shoulder. One didn't need words, after all; the old woman was talking excitedly, gesturi as though she were warping re; 1 Gasenko admits it is a sporting proposition. If he has engine trouble in midocean during a storm that will be risky. But for the rest he has had enough success with smaller models to make him belleve he will be able to maneuver his little craft as suc- cessfully as a gull, keep his nose up to the blow or run away from it and get away from any storm center be- fore he is worn out by constant navi- gating. Gasenko is not contented with a slow development. He wants to make a dash across the Atlantic and cause the world to sit up and take notice of something new. He has no fear, ex- cept of engine trouble. Mountainous waves he says he will hop over; the trough of the sea where the wind falls he will avold. He will barely touch the tops of the big ‘oilers, hopping those that “comb. So he explains himself. * ok ok % GASENKO is torn between_the use- ful and the sporting interests. He foresees sea-fleas as big as ocean grayhounds. Hundred-passenger ocean- oplans making New York from Cherbourg in 30 hours is his prophecy for the future, but as for his immediate voyage he is proud of the fact that the Sea Flea will weigh only one-twentieth as much as Alain Gerbault’s Firecrest, and that it is expected to make 10,000 kilometers ‘Whereas only 4,000 in more than two months. Motor boats, which lose four-fifths of their potential speed through the resistance of water, will disappear as fast boats when the rivers and lakes are as full of these skimmers us shady pools are full of their insdct prototypes, Gasenko believes. On the other hand, ocean steamers will lift themselves out of the water on long feet, grow short, stout wings, use their propellers on the air instead of the water and pay no attention what- ever to the wildest gales. The motor power necessary to push a 00-ton Funny Par PARIS, May 18, T this time of year the funny oddities in Paris fashions ap- pear. If they catch on in the June racing season we may see them again later at Deau- ville by the sea. Some may stick. About as funny a trial fashion as I have ever seen—and I should say about as crazy and ugly—is the use of the old gold smooth leather for dress waists and upper close-fitting skirts. The arms and neck are left bare and natural color so that the wearer’s bust looks as if it were cased in armor with a dull golden sheen or, since it fits close without fold or wrinkle, as if the skin were varnished to imitate bronze metal. It is an old trick of circuses and fairs in France to show bronze men who are varnished all over that way. At the seaside, no doubt, arms, shoulder and neck of the wearer will be tanned with tea wash or something similar to shade away from the old gold bust, but T don't see how that will help the effect. ‘Where did they get the idea? These metal-tinted leathers or imitations have been used for shoes—golden slip- pers that do not always mount the golden ladder. They also give good effect in slashes applied to dresses to be seen under strong light. Perhaps too much of the stuff has been manu- factured and some one is trying to get it sold off. The ancient cloth of gold was woven and brocaded and glorious in the light and not like gold leaf flat on the surfaces of the uman person. [steamer used through the water w on an oceanoplan, according tc | Gasenko, push an oceanoplan 5 times s big 10 times as fast ‘That's all in the fu senko, intetrupting himself as h worked on the installation of his en |gine. “Tt is only a little ‘flea’ now. |But the principle is there. When 1 |have demonstrated it by skipping ross the Atlantic in it T will |right on around the world. I have figured it out. In this model it wil take 812 days to reach Rio Janeiro To go around the world will tak 1s Fashions Another invention of the season is the looking-glass dress. Little pieces of looking glass are inserted in great number in dinner and dancing gow where the artificial light will them at every turn. It is not like the variegated scales that were plaster- ed over waist and skirt in fashions now happily p: Those brought un happy reminiscences of woman's un- pleasant chumming with the serpe Without being a jov forever, these shining lights, twinkling with every re pleasant to w: This light effect may have come It Is something added to the ation of colors, more than the rainbow ever knew, round women nowadays. One Parisian dressmaker has gone the looking glass one better. Keep- ing the looking-glass gown, she has hung the lower part with litle pleces of clear-sounding metal. As the fatr dancer moves to the languors of jazz she gives out a faintly heard jingle like a tintinnabulation of faery bells, Somebody had to think of it, but ¥ fear that women live by sight, not hearing. We shall see if the dancing bell gown takes. Another extrav: catch that float nt ornament for women was tried last year and has come back. It is a wrist watch set in an expensive anklet. The problem is to see, across the distance from eye to ankle, what time it is. A spe cial eyeglass focused on the out- stretched foot might do the thing.