Evening Star Newspaper, March 21, 1926, Page 92

BY BOOTH TARKINGTON Mothers, Alarned at Modern Ways of Other Girls, Pointed to Her as an Example of Old-Fashioned Deportment. - ifying woman 1 ever knew was one who hadn’t the slightest idea she was| puzzling anybody, and showed genuine amazement | ‘when she found out that her conduct | was generally thought impossible to understand. ‘What's more, the other women were as befogged about her as the men were, or at least they said so. They talked about her by the hour—there were times when they didn’t seem to be able to talk about anything else-— and I don’t suppose that in the whole history of the world one particular question has been asked oftencr than | the question the women in our town | were asking one another—‘Well, what do you think of Geraldine now?"” | For njy part, I never pretended -to | understand Geraldine Wygate at all: | that is to say, I sometimes under- | stood what her motives were, T sup-| pose. But I didn't understand why | she had them. H She was an_only child. but not a spoiled one. Her father was what a moderate sized town used to call “a | fairly rich man,” and he was able and | willing to give Geraldine just about | anything a young girl could ask for. | But she didn't ask him for a great deal. { She didn’t once show the slightest | personal interest in any of the boys | or young men, and none of us ex hibited any symptoms of that kind of | (nterest in her. When it came to t Geraldine lived inclosed on the other sido of a blank wall, and at 24 she was still living in the same inclosure. | She wasn't a beautiful girl by any HE most m; nieans, but she wasn't homely, either, | She was small and light-stepping and | quick, with bright, dark e: that | never scemed to look at anything more than a second or two. She had pretty hands and wavy hair-colored halir, and her features were pleasant—the type | we used to call “piquant.” So it wasn't her looks that kept the young men from falling in love with her. It wasg that queer, invisible wall sur- rounding her, though she hadn't put it there herself on purpose by any | means. The mothers of the young men liked Geraldine. Wygate. N ways telling us what a “self-respect- ing"” girl she was—so much more ad- mirable than the “pushing” sort we seemed to favor, and they wondered why we didn’t show her more atten- tion. When they asked us about that we weren't able to give very satisfac- | tory answers, though my cousin, Joe Buell, once came pretty near the truth of the matter. B T was a Sunday afternocon, and Joe and T were killing time until it got ‘ate enough for us to start on a round | of “Sunday calls"—a customary pro- cedure with us. Aunt Sallie asked us if we were going to the Wygates’, and when we said . she asked Joe, “Why no a little sharply- “I don’t see any reason you can't show Geraldine more attention than you do.,” she said. “Geraldine Is a fine, self-respecting girl “You might as well ask me to show more attention to sister Bella,” Joe told his mother. “Bella would be just as pleased, and so would I.” veraldine Wygate will make some man a good wife,” Aunt Sallie said: and she glanced over to where Bella sat on the arm of a big chair, swing- ing her feet and looking out of the window. “T wish Bella were like her n certain w ! It's greatly to| Geraldine's credit that instead of | seeking out the younger men herself, she lets them do the seeking.” “Oh, dear!” Bella said: then she laughed and turned to me. “I sup- pose you understand Mamma's scold- ing me. Do you know wh she means by ‘positive advances “No, Bella.” “She means a formal note T wrote to an old friend,” Bella explained. “That 1s to say, I never met him un- til_yesterday afternoon; but within half an hour Y felt I'd known him al- He's that kind of a man. So,!| of course, since I was so well ac- quainted with him, I wrote him a: note as soon as I got home and asked him to drop In before. long. That's what Mamma means. In her day it was unmaidenly not to wait until the gentlemen begged the priv- ilege of calling. Times have changed, Mamma, especially when a truly glorious person comes to town!" “Who s he?” I asked. “He's a godlike creature whose beautiful name is Bellworthy Cam- eron,” she said, intentionally extrav- agant. “He's related to the Camer- ons that live here, and he's just come to make his fortune in our thriving cf He's going to be in old Judge Cameron’s law office. Lida Cameron l4. some of us meet him yesterday, and he's absolutely a regal vision!™ “'He sounds pretty awful,” Joe sald, “the way you tell it!"” Bella laughed. “I'm not sure he ian’t. That's why I wrote the note; T wanted to find out if any man SHE JUMPED UP, RED_ AND ANGRY. “PLEASE DO WHAT YOUR CQUSIN DID,” SHE SAID. could be as gorgeous-looking as Mr. | Bellworthy Cameron and be anything clse.” “You mean he's one of those ‘pretty’ men, don’t you?” Joe asked. “llasn’t he got ‘well-chiseled fea- iures'’ and ‘unruly golden curls,’ B a ‘Well—" Bella said, beginning indefinitely. “Not golden; no. Tie's—" She had turned to look out of the window, as she talked, and her feet were again swinging as they had bee! but they began to slow down as something outdoors caught her' attention: then thev stopped | awd Ber Lrench heels clicked to- It ! speaking of him: it wa | that she is. | to the window. | been queer,” she went on: leaned for- the sidewalk. she said. gether suddenly. She ward, staring out at i of Satan! “What is 1t?” 1 asked her. “You mean your gorgeous friend’s heaved in #ght just as we were speaking of n more than that,” she an- swered. “Who do you think is with him?" Joe and I joined her at the win- dow, and we fully shared her sur- prise when we saw the couple stroll- ing on the sidewalk. She'd told the truth about the astonishing good looks of Mr. Bellworthy Cameron, though his lool weren't what as- tonished us. He was one of those al- most beautiful black-and-white-and- pink young men you see sumetimes: he v Jet-black hair, blue- black ireek profile” and high ros . like a i cheeks, with the rest of plexion like white enamel. He was tall, graceful; broad-shouldered and all-waisted—you couldn’t imagine him being foolish enough to trade his looks for the Apollo Belvedere's. 5 a I what so surprised the three of us at the window wasn't the co- incidence of Mr. Bellworthy Camer- on’s appearing just as we were the identity of the lady with him—and, also, the trange manner and changed appear- nce of that lady. It was Geraldine Wygate, it was Geraldine; but not the Ger- Idine familiar to us. In the first ace. She was walking with her white-gloved hand reposing upon the inner crook of her escort’s elbow— arm-in-arm with him in the public afternoon sunshine! “How long has she known him?' I asked Bella. ‘Since yesterday. She came into he Camerons’ just as I left. . like that!™ aid, nodding toward the sidewalk “What'll she be like in a month from now 2" vas Joe who answered. not She’ll he even more beauti- he said: and to Bella’s and my surprise, as we turned to look at him, we saw that he was perfectly serious. knew that she was beautiful he went on: “but now T see She’s charmin I al- ways thought she was just a moving statuette: but she’'s come to life.” Bella said. “So have you, it seems. What's got you so sentimental, all of a sudden?’ Then, as he didn’t answer, she turned again “Geraldine’'s always but this afternoon’s walk of hers, with her hand and heart openly on a man's leeve for all the world to see— well, it's simply the queerest thing she ever has done or will do!” Bella didn’t stick to that opinion long, however, for Geraldine did queerer things than to make it clear she'd fallen heels over head in love with Bellworthy Cameron at first sight. For a while some of the other girls were inclined to follow her ex- ample, and they gave him what they called “a great rush”; but after they'd seen a little more of him, most of them lost interest rather suddenly. | My cousin Bella was one of these. 'Of course I was right in guessing that he wasn't anything except some- thing to look at,” she sald. *“He's just so many pretty pounds of con- ceit and musl I've no doubt that quite & number of inferior type girls have lost their heads over him, and 80 that't what he expects of all of us. It's all he does expect, and all that interests him. He's really pretty awful—and practically all the girls found it out, except Geraldine.” Bella shook her head, like a person igloomy over an unanswerable riddle. “It's the most unaccountable thing I ever knew,” she went on. “Geraldine Wygate was the most fastidious girl in town, the most purely mental, of all of us, and the most remote from mushiness. Since the rest have cooled down and just dropped him flat, she sees him all the time! Woudn't you think she'd see what he is? The rest of us have. No; he's nothing but a glossy-looking bad egs, and Geraldine's ilder about him every day of her life.” Bella was almost right: Bellworthy Cameron’s looks were probably respon- sible for many of his lacks and faults; but young people don't often make allowances for causes, and he hadn't been in town a full year before he was pretty thoroughly unpopular with all of us. The young men found him a little bit too smilingly sleek and su- perior; he wanted us to feel that he'd been about the world rather more than we had; and probably he had, too; but it's never tactful to make such things evident. As for the girls, what Bella sald of him spoke for all—except Geraldine, of course. I think Geraldine was glad when the other girls dropped him: but her view of the dropping was the op- posite of theirs. She told me what her own view was, one day when I had a talk with her. “You're such an old friend and neighbor,” she said, “I thought vou wouldn’t mind talking with me about something—about something—"" She faltered, and blushed. “Well — I thought you wouldn't mind if I'd talk to you about it,” she went on. “It's something—something T—"' I laughed. “What is it, Geraldine?” *It's something—it’s something very " she said. “It’s about Mr. Cameron. Just, ha 1y suspected 1t might {be,” T told her; but she didn't notice that T meant anything jocular. “*“Yes,” she said. *I've noticed you |are rather timid with him, but he real- |1y isn't_so haughty as you think he is, and I'm sure he’d be as glad to be | coratal,” ‘Well,” I said, “I hadn’t thought of him as haughty, exactly. It was more—" She interrupted me. “I know! 1 know you don’t think of him as re- pellently haughty or lofty in his man- i ner; but of course I can see you all [feel he's a man of so much greater | experience—so much more & man of | the world and all that—you naturally | think he might be rather stand-offish {1f you made advances to him: Well, (he is a man of the world, and of | course we've never before had any {body in the town quite in his class, | S0 to speak: but he's not really stand- toffish at all. Ile’s perfectly simple, as | important people always are; he | doesn’t wish to assert his superiority |in the slightest, and I'm sure he'd be | gracious and cordial if the rest of you would just take him as one of your- selves. I'm sure he'd like that much better than to have you stand in awe of him.” “Do we? I mean, would he?” T said, for Geraldine's sincerity in this hal- Iucination of hers confused me. “Did he want you to ask us not to stand in awe of him, Geraldine?” She didn't give me a direct answer. Nobody but a woman could see these things,” she said. *If I don’t speak of them, who would? None of the other girls would now, of course, because they wouldn’'t regard that as thelr privilege.” “They woudn't?” I said: and I wams etting more confused than ever. ‘The other girls wouldn't regret it as their privilege to point out how cordial Mr. Cameron wants to be?” _“Not now, they wouldn't. Not since- She paused, drew a long breath, and then sat looking up- ward like St. Cecilia at the organ. Not since he dropped the rest to single me out above them.” * ok ¥ X I STARED at her, too nonplused to do anything else: and I could see how rapt she was in a kind of meek pride. “Oh!” she said. *“How strange is that it should have been I' TI'll never, never get used to that! They were all so eager—like a garden full of flowers, every one begging_ to be taken and worn—but he came to the little wall-flower in the corner—to me! It’s incredible, incredible!” I didn't say anything; but she seemed to realize again that I was there, and she came out of her rap- ture and turned to me. “I'm afrai they all hate me,” she sald gently; but she smiled as if she d!dn't mind ihis supposed hatred very mucl ““The other girls?” I asked he don't think they do, Geraldine.’ She laughed and shook her head. A man couldn't see it she said. 'Of course they do. They couldn't help it. I don't blame them for it in the least, because if it had been one of them who was singled out, instead of me, I'd have hated her. Absolutely, I couldn’'t have helped it!” She laughed again and then her expres. sion reverted to that St. Cecilia look sh ‘d ‘Worn a. moment before. “‘You mean you're engaged to him, Geraldine?"” e ‘‘ ‘Engaged?’ " she said in a low voice. ‘It doesn’t seem the word. ‘Consecrated,” I think I'd say, in- stead.” This left me pretty blank for a minute or two. @ ) Then I asked her if she wanted me to do something else be- sides understand that Mr. Cameron wasn’t really haughty. She'd im- plied she had something more in mind. “Yes,” she told me. ‘“He's anxious to show what he can do in his pro- fession. He's held down by the older men in Judge Cameron's office, and not given a chance, except in matters of very small importance not worth his attention. Of course he should be at the head of a firm of his own, and that's what I wanted to speak to to you about. I've already got papa to put all of our own legal affairs in his hands, and that's a little bit of a start for him. Now, of course, I know that your family and the Buells own the rolling mills—he says the mills have a great many lawsults— but he says the Buells practically con: trol the street car lines, and the legul business of the car lines alone would be enough for most law firms. If you—-> ait a minute,” I said. “Did Mr. “We were just Cameron tell you to——" “No,” she said. talking about it; that was all.” And she went on to ask me if I wouldnt exert by influence with my family and relatives to get the legal business of the car lines and the rolling miils put into the hands of Mr. Bellworthy Cameron. Not only that, she virtu- ally begged me to turn myself into ja walking advertisement of the gentleman’s legal ability and to solicit all my friends in his behalf. More- over, as she went on, I found I wasn't the only person she'd invited to per- form this office. She said she'd “spoken” to Joe Buell and one or two others, and that her father was “‘using all his influence” in Mr. Cameron’s behalf; which really meant that she had the old gentleman limp- ing around to his friend’s offices recommending the talents of the beautiful Bellworthy. Mr. Wygate wasn't_the man he had been. After Mrs. Wygate’s death the previous year, he'd suffered a ‘“stroke;” and ever since then he'd crept about on two canes, pretty feebly, his head not much stronger than his body. with hee, oy cousin Belta 11 me she'd seen Cameron and Geraldine driving in Geraldine's new open car. Cameron’s hat flew off, and Geraldine jumped out and ran back and got it for him. It was muddy, and she cleaned it carefully with a lace hand- kerchief before she gave it to him. “‘She looked like an acolyte permitted to perform some high ceremony in a church,” Bella said. “What I'll never understand {s how any woman can fall o slavishly in love! Every- body’s talking about it.” She was right about that. Gerald- ine’s infatuation had become our principal topic: and every day or so you heard of some new manifestation. “Geruldine’s latest” came to be an veryday joke. The girls went to her just to get something new to fush about and giggle and marvel over, “He's her ‘saint’ now!" one of them would say. “She found a picture of St. George, and she says it's more like him than his photographs are, so she's having a silver frame made for it, and she speaks of him as her saint. That's what she actually told me, my dear! She sald: ‘The only difference is that my saint is so much more beautiful.’ If you don't believe me, go on over there and listen if she doesn't say the same thing to you. She will! I shouldn’t be surprised if she’d told the ice man about it.” Geraldine didn’t confine her worship to describing Bellworthy as a saint. | She went to Joe Buell again, and to each of the other directors, to get the street car company's legal business for Cameron: she went to almost every one she knew, to get favors for him; and she had her father put him up for membership in the club, where we weren't enthusiastic about admitting him. ve it would be wiser to go rather slo information that leads me to think action on his name had better be postponed for a time.” One of the others spoke up. “I don't see any need of postponement. What I most object to is his letting a girl do so much for him. It's too much like making use of something a man oughtn't to use. I'd like to see him blackballed right away.” “No,” Joe sald. “We're all friends of Wygate's, and we don't want to hurt people’'s feelings. Let's just postpone the matter for a time.” The rest of us agreed to that, and when the others had gone, 1 asked Joe what was the information he'd mentioned. i “This fellow's really no good." he said. “It's not my business, of course: but I've felt differently about Gerald- ine ever since we first saw her out walking with him. You know how I'd always thought of her. I told mother that very day I'd be just as interwsted In ‘showing attention’ to my own sis- ter as I would to Geraldine. I'd al- ways thought of her that way—as it she were a person you couldn’t have any really personal interest in at all, But when I saw her coming by the house with this fellow and looking up at him. in that pretty, glowing way— all changed and so alive—why, T felt differently about her; that's all.” “Golly!” I said, and I sat staring at him; but he was looking at the wall and didn't notice me. “You see, 1 haven't sympathized with all these jokes about her,” he . “T haven't enjoyed them at all.” “T suppose not,” I said. “What have you b-::?-n.flng about Cameron? You haven't told me. “He's a low life!” Joe threw away the cigar he was pretending to smoke. “He's the worst kind of masher, and that's all he is, though I'm bound to say old Judge Cameron says he has got the makings of a good lawyer in him. Well—he may need to be.” “How's that?" T asked, for he spoke with a bitter kind of significance. “Outside of everybody's need of suc- cess, has he any special necessity to be a good lawyer?"” Joe turned and looked at me, and T ‘was astonished to see how savage his fréwn was. ‘““‘Cameron’s in trouble,” “It's over a girl.” “You don’t mean it? “Don’t I?” Joe said. rascal Louis Crispwell he said. “It's that old daughter,” he said. Louis Crispwell was what’s called a “police court character,” a profes- sional bondsman, and his daughter was pretty well known by sight about town. She was a big, fine-looking girl of the high-colored type, and she was all up and down the street every day in a second-hand ‘“roadster” her father'd bought for her and painted bright red. ““One of our foremen lives next door to the Crispwells,” Joe told me. says Cameron’s been there so much the neighbors concluded he and Una must be married. They thought Cam- eron must be Louie’s son-in-law. He'd spend most of the evening at Geral- dine’s and then go down there to see Una Crispwell. Well, he hasn't been there so much lately, except when they’ve sent for him—to scare him! They swear they're going to have a | breach of promise suit brought against him. Cameron declares {t's sheer blackmail, and it may be, for all I know. But he's got an ugly customer to deal with in Louis Crispwell, and | that's why I say he needs to be a good ! l A day or two after T had this talk lawyer.” “Well, yes!” I said, agreeing pretty strohigly. “I should say he does. If this gets out, I'm afraid it'll just about kill Geraldine.” * & ok K 'HE next afternoon I went uptown to see what I could find out from Bella. By good luck, she was at home and Aunt Sallie wasn’t around. “Look here,” I said. “What's got into old Joe he's so exercised about Geraldine Wygate and her affairs?” “Nothing,” Bella told me. ‘“He's just like everybody else. Isn't the i whole town exercised about Geraldine and the ridiculous exhibition she’s making of herself?"” “Joe doesn’t think. it's ridiculous, Bella.” At that Bella looked angry, bnt not with me. “It makes me perfectly raging,’’ she said. ‘‘He's a sentimental {diot, and that's the only explanation I know. Tt began the very day when we looked at her and Cameron out of that win- dow yonder. Don’t you remember Joe took it rather queerly? He said she looked beautiful—he'd ainays thought she was ‘just a walking statuette, or something, but now she'd come to life. Then he got quite silent and thoughtful after they'd. gome by. I think it began to happen to him right then and there, and it gets worse the longer it runs on. Joe's always been a romanticist, and he says Geraldine is lofty—he thinks her obliteration of self is a holy medieval passion, or something, and the only ‘heroism on the grand scale’ we've ever seen in this dull town. Did you ever hear of anything more preposterous? To pay no attention whatever to a girl until she begins to make a ninny of herself over another man and then go and make a ninny of yourself over her!” “T wouldn't put it quite that strong- 1y, Bella. Joe isn’t exactly making a ninny of himself.’ ' " she asked dryly. “Prob- In't kuow hie got Cameron “He | appointed one of the attorneys for the street railway company simply be- cause she asked him to. “I didn’t know that, fact; Joe hadn't mentioned it to me, and I hadn't heard of it; but I saw that Bella knew what she was talking about and it must be true. ‘‘Queer he'd do that,” I said: “Last night he was arguing for a postponement of taking up Cameron’s name at the club. “Yes,” she told me. “It’s because of something that's turned up lately “Did Joe tell you what ft was, Bella?” she said. “'He didn't need to. Cameron's in a terrible mess over that loud girl you see all over the place in a red car, Una Crispwell, and her father's going to have her ste him for breach-of-promise. Mrs. Thomas R Cloope heard about it vesterday, so it’s all over town today. * k% UNT SALLIE came fn j and she knew all about it and was full of it. | “People are just buzzing!" she said. {“I mean over this scandal about that relative of the Camerons. Mrs. Tom Cloope tells me she decided last night that Geraldine Wygate had a right to know what was being said, so she went_over there and started to tell her: but Geraldine alrea with her. She told Mrs. Cloope that (it was the most absolute slander persecution; but that it was going to be stopped at once and she’s just demented to talk that way —with poor old Mr. Wygate lying the point of death on account of i “What?" Bella cried. “Why, only goes around doing what Geraidine telis him to.” “Not in this case. it seems,” her mother sald. “Mrs. Cloope told me he after lunch and the end of it was that he fell on the floor, and Geraldine had to call the servants in and get him to bed and send for the doctor. Mrs, s house- 4 nice way for me to be passing on information! But anyhow, the housemaid said could hear the old man shouting some- thing about Cameron and telling Geraldine she was crazy. They could hear him clear out in the kitchen— and the last thing he said was ‘Never!' They heard him just scream ing, ‘Never! Never! Never! He must have fallen down then, because i he was still mumbling ‘Never!” when Geraldine called for help and the; came running in. That's all the; know about it; but my own belief is that Geraldine had been telling him this Cameron in spite of the scands Bella shook her head. *“No,” she said. “It must have been something else.’”” then, | dy knew ali | about it, and took a very high hand | nd | wouldn't | amount to anything. Mrs. Cloope savs | he | had a terrible scene with Geraldine | they | she was going right ahead and marry | “Why must 2" | “Be it would be so much a { matter-of-course with Geraldine that S a matter of | she's going to marry him anyvhow, it | for her; and if he {wouldn’t occur to her to say so. It something else.” Well, whatever it w: t's just about killed that poor old man. The doctor's car s still standing in front of their house, 1 noticed, as I came b Al'.\'T SALLIE didn't exaggerate when she said the trouble between Geraidine and her father had *just bout killed that poor old man"—it did more than that. The doctor’ jwas still in front of the W when I left Bella and Aunt ates’ Sallie, {n.nr an hour later, and went home. { By 8 o'clock that evening, though, the tdoctor’s car had gone-—but there was another one standing there in place | of money; otherwise he'd bring this | This one was the undertaker's. {of it ieraldine sent for me after the fu « “ve got to somebody s advic she said. 1 ¢ k your cousin Joe —I sent for him last night—but he re |fused to give it to me. It's about | raising quite a large sum of money on property and securities in a quiet way. Mr. Cameron could do it for me, but we hoth feel it would he better if he X ear in the matter.” T asked her. She looked at me sharp know the’ truth about th T was embarrassed. “T don’t know that T do.” T told her. “T understand vou don't think it amounts to any- thing— didn’t say that.” she interrupted. “I saild it wouldn't amount to any thing. T meant it wouldn’t because I intend taking measures to see that it doesn’t.” ras confused. “Do vou ‘But T understood persecution, and she said. “The truth is often | slander in the mouths of those who | don’t understand it. It's quite true | that Mr. Cameron has become in { volved with the Crispwell girl: but | just to say that isn't to tell the truth about it.” “Walt 2 minut | ting mixed up. Do you mean— | mean the girl pestered him to | death.” Geraldine said. {lently in love with him, of course, as | soon as she saw him: she managed to zet herself introduced to him. After that she sought him_continuously. Women simply besiege him, of course, can't prevent them ove to him. In this case his hecoming serious- involved with Una Crispwell. T staved at her. *“And you—you resent it Geraldine tesent it”” she cried. *“Who am | T 10 expect to be given every single 'look and thought of a man like that? I said. “I'm get- he's involved. | don” “She fell vio- | Here's a man all women can't help adoring: every woman who ever sees him will struggle to make him care sn't actually harsh she may believe Well. it isn't his na or unkind to he | she's succeeded. | kindness 1s certain to be taken ad- vantage of to entrap him. That's jwhat's happened now." “He's asked you to help him? | satd. | 5 e told me all about it— | everything—and 1 am proud that | he came to me, proud that I can help |and that I'm the only one who can. r | He didn't ask me: he simply told me | that he was worried on my account because he didn’t sce how to avold a great deal of notoriety !and he knew it would hurt me. The ! girl's father has asked a large sum suit, and Bellworthy had no way to | raise such a sum.” “How much is it?" T asked her. “A hundred thousand dollars.” she | said. ~“But he told me they would |accept ninety, he was sure. | “He tola that ! When?" | _“Tust before I spoke to poor papa labout it.” Her eves began to wink a little. “Papa has been very Kind in other matters; I didn't dream he'd refuse me in T told him ! was | something 1 simply must do—and he | got terribly upset. T couldn’t quiet him.” She winked harder then. and | had to stop and cr¥ a little. “Poor man®* she said. “He oughtn't to have |let himself zet so excited: it wasn't good for him. “No,” I teld her. “I suppose not.” Geraldine quit crying: she even smiled a little. “Of course. every- thing's different now." she sald. “It's all mine now. to do as I please with. The first thing I want to do is to vaise this money. 1 want you to help me. 1 got up. “You won't | just what {‘T'm sorry | the_ house. king." | “Yet Joe Buell would do more for vou than he would for anybody else |in the world.” T told her | “I know it.” she sald. ut he won't do this. and so I'm asking vou. | Won't you? { *Not in a thousand vears, Geral | dine,” T told her. “What's move, I'd | do anything T could to stop yon ! But there she stopped me. | jumped up. red and angry. |* “Please do what your cousin did!" | she siid | vou Geraldine? ‘m s " 1 told her she said. “That's sut Cousin_Joe said— and he walked out of It doesn't seem very She 1 bowed to her and T walked out of | the house. | A banker told me lunch that | the money b been turned over to Miss Una Crispwell in the form of at for himself, | IT WAS NOT THE GERALDINE ILIAR U certified checks that morning in his own bank. “We couldn't do a thing about it he said. “There was no ground ¢ which we could interfere, though T° have liked to. Of course, the Cris well girl is only camouflage for thi 014 man of hers. He'll make her de | posit the money to his credit in soin: iolher bank. and maybe let Una hav: { enough to buy a fur coat. He's prot | ably laughing his head off right now to think how easily it worked!” But this was a mistake. My banker | friend didn't know Una Crispwell. o: how much she really cared for Bell worthy Cameron. In her way, T thi she was as desperate about him as Geraldine was; and the reason she'd let her father use her to annoy hir was her belfef that it might be the | only way to keep Bellworthy for her self. Old Crispwell wasn't laughing, as my friend guessed: he was cursing Una wouldn't give him a cent! She went straight to Cameron. “Why | n't you ma me now?" she sald. | “I've got more than your other gir! | has. d Crispwell went around town tellins the whole sto Of course, by th time, almost rybody belleved that the whole thing was a swindle, and that Bellworthy Cameron had actua 1v been in it from the start. But that +$ a mistake. T don't mean he ever reually cared anything in particula about € dine: taken with U, style of gi night for ¢ rancisco. Cameron wanted plenty of space between hii and his fathe; So there was a doctor's car in fro | of the old Wygate house again. Gera | dine took her tragedy about as hard a« | any woman could take anything and | survive. Of course, when Geraldine got up and began going about again, nobody eve | spoke of Cameron in her presence: and {for my part T never heard her refe: {to him again except once—but the wau she did it that once almost knocke: me off my feet. It wasn't so lonz as at Aunt Sallie’s seventieth dinner, and Geraldine had Cameron had spent the Winter in | California: and before Bella thought | she said impulsively: “Yes, and he sas Bellworthy Cameron has hecome yving pleture actor. He savs—o She broke off. staring around table; evervbody was looking at agonizingly. “Oh. dear?’ dear e But Geraldine wasn’t even embar rassed. “Bellworthy Cameron?” sha isa if she didn't immediately iden tfy that name with a person. Then she laughed with the reminiscent kir d of amusement we feel when we 1 | member some absurdity of long as | “The silly thing:” she said. | And she turned to her S-vear-old sur, | sitting beside her. “You eat that druni- | stick!™ she tald him. To my way of thinking, this was the most mystifying thing she ever did; but T know that if I'd the bad taste to tell her so, Geraldine wouldn't have had the faintest idea what I meant. the he Bella mumbled. “Oh (Copyrizht. 1926.) ington is still several days off, although the. position of the sun today brings about the Spring equinos. Officials of the Weather Bureau characterize as a myth the tradition that the date marks a change in tem- perature. Up to March 1 the weather this yvear was normal, says the Weather Bu- reau. An accumulative temperature chart shows Spring' has gone back- ward since the first of the month by a daily decrease of 10 degrees. Prof. Charles Fitzhugh Talman, librarian of the Weather Bureau and prominent meteorologist, who is prob- ably as well read on weather science as any person in the world, depends upon vegetation for his indication of the coming of Spring. The study of the relations between weather and plants or crops is really a branch of a science of broader scope, known as phenology, he said. Mlis prognosticator is a forsythia plant, which grows in front of the Weather Bureau building. So much faith has Prof. Talman in the growth of the little bush as an in- | dicator of Spring weather that early in Tebruary each year he begins to make daily inspection of its buds. For the past three years, he has recorded the date on which the plant bloomed. According to Nature's own fore- caster, Spring began on February 25 last year; March 30 in 1924, and March 21 in 1923. Thus, the coming of Spring, the season when ,plants begin to vegeta and nature unfolds all of her magi enchantment, varies from yeay to year. Asked whether Spring would begin on March 21, this year, Prof. Talman went out to make an eleventh-hour inspection of his natural weather kiosk. Examining one of the little buds, Uncle Sam's naturalist-meteor- ologist replied: “Spring is still several days off. The buds are not quite ready to blos- som yet. Spring weather in Wash- ington this year will be later than last season by about a month—it may be another week before the forsythia gets its_blossom.” Prof. Talman pointed out that for- sythia is plentiful in Washington. Its blossom is a bright yellow and of pleasant fragrance, he added. Author of a recent publication deal- ing with meteorology. Prof. Talman quoted from its chapters discussing | PRING'TI.\I[’) weather in Wash- { the accuracy of phenology in deter-; ous other events of a bivlo; ff mining seasonal temperature, as fol- lows: This science is devoted to the in vestigation of all periodic phenomena of plant and animal life that are con- trolled by the weather. There are, in some parts of the world, large corps of phenological observers, who main- tain records year after vear of the leafing, flowering and fruiting of both wild and cultivated plants, the migra- tions and first songs of birds, and vari- cal char | acter that recur with the seasons. “In the course of time, it becomes possible to compute from such rec- ords the normal dates of these events: and then, in any particular year, a comparison between the actual dates and the normal shows whether the season is early or late, and by how v days. ““Phenological observations on plants also make it possible to draw charts showing the normal march of the sea- Forsythia Plant Aids Weather Expert In Predictions as to Advent of Spring | sons @ country, expressed i terms ant life, and such chari= are often more valuable to the ag: culturist or horti . as a gude in selecting v - cultivation and in timin, perations, than an: charts that can be compiled from o1 dinary climatic data. Some admira charts of this kind have been drawn for parts of Europe. “There are many practical applici tions of phenology to agriculture, and there would be more if phenologiciil observations had been made more ex tensively throughout the world Good phenological charts of djfferen: regions would. for example, greatl: facilitate the work of foreign plan: introduction carried on by the United States Bureau of Plant Industry. “In the United States phenological observations were made systematically between 1830 and 1863, but onlv desultory work has been done. in this bsequently. The most com prehensive individual record is tha | maintained by Thomas Mikesell from 1873 to 1912, at Wauseon, Ohio, and | published in full by the Weather Eu | reau in 1915, 1unting for Spring is fascinating said Prof. Talman. “Yes, we have 1o Spring today,” mused the genial weather prophet as he made a finul examization of the forsythia plant. r i New High-Flyer. NEW type of airplane designed to climb an altitude of 60, feet, or more than 9 miles, is b iIng constructed at McCook Field, Dayton, Ohio, the War Departmen: recently announced. Wings of extrao: dinary lift and a propeller of un usual diameter are being installed in the new plane to provide increased lifting power in the rarefied upper at mosphere. The wings, of wood fabric, Will have an area of square - feet. A 400-horsepower gine drives the machine. RS No Ggrman Trip. R. 1HUGO ECKENER has posi- poned Lis attempt to raise funds by popular subscription for building super-Zeppelin for North Pole explo: tions. He states that Germany's acute financial.and economic situation does not warrant continuance of his efforts, which =o far have raised only "W,Ol‘t‘ out of §4,000,000 needed. a | i |