Evening Star Newspaper, October 17, 1926, Page 92

B Bull —_——— THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C. OCTOBER 17, 1926—PART 5. » Pup and Tiger Cub By Lawrence Perry Old Grudges, Old Loves, and a New Understanding, After Years of Suspicion and- ERE is what Jeremy Joyce. Yale ninety - blank, sent to Lucy West in his junior vear, the year, incidentally, that he made the varsity eleven: €he may carry the color of Harvard In her kissable crimson lips She may wave the flag of Vassar Tn her delicate finger tipe. She may flaunt you the color of Princeton Tn the glint of her light brown hair, And honor the color of Dartmouth By the dress she is wont 1o wear: But the color she holds the_closest 1% the color of dear old Yale In her shining eves it greets vou. And their skies will never fail The brown hair may change to silver And lose its glossy gleam. And in dull and quiet raiment My Ladye will then be seen: The red in her lips may lessen And the rose in her cheeks grow pale But the blue in her eves will ever tell That her heart belongs to Yale. Now any girl in the romantic nine- —or perhaps even in this rhyme- less flapper age—would have yielded to understandable emotions had she succumbed as ardently as might have been expected, 'to a m#nd and heart capable of meter so passable and sentiment so fervent. ! Perhaps for a time she did. But years of youth are years of swift mutation, no less in sentiment than anything whatever. 8o it came about that within twelve months she was engaged to be mar- ried to John Rutherford. Rutherford had no poetic faculty, bui he had a habit of getting most things he strongly desired. Moreover, from the =tandpoint of heroics he fully matched Joyce, being a stalwart guard on the Princeton eleven. 1t was a blow to Seremy, for never in word or thought had he recanted a single jot of the sentiment set forth in his poem, and, besides, being a bit temperamental, he did not easily re- act from things. Never again did he write another stanza. Something within him perished when Lucy West went out of his life. As for Rutherford of the Princeton varsity, it makes for enduring bitter- mess to have one, who has once been a friend, crash down upon your ex- tended leg when you are going through the line like a locomotive, ending then and there your foot ball career midway through the last game of senior year. It might well have been an accident. But Joyce thought differently. Down upon the ground, the splintered end of 2 bone thrust out through his stock- ing, he looked up at the man bending over him. “Thank you,” he said, his lips white, his eyes dark with pain and enmity. “That was cleverly done, Rutherford.” Rutherford was—well, he was a Rutherford. Flushing, he straightened up, set his lips tightly. Here he wronged himself and wronged Joyce as well. But foot ball players are as stoical as Indians when it comes to such things, and more often than not they cherish through the years venge- ful memories that are altogether ahoriginal in their depth and bitter- ness, It remains in this connection to he said that Rutherford and Lucy West were married soon after commence- ment. Jeremy Joyce married the daughter of a New York corporation lawy-r. From the first she never inspired him to write verse. This was just as well, since she had not the slightest appre- ciation of poetry. x % % REMY JOYCE had two reasons for going to Princeton to see the ennual game between the freshman elevens of Yale and Princeton. First, he was chairman of the foot hall com- mittee of his university and wanted to see what sort of material would | come up for the varsity next year. | Second, his son was left tackle on the team. | Biffy Joyce, as every one called him, | had come to Yale with a resounding | Andover reputation—a big-shouldered, sturdy-limbed youth who already was 2 inches taller than his father. Joyce’s breath caught and some- thing came up into his throat when the team loped to the gridiron with blankets flying and flapping about | legs and shoulders, heads bared to the sun. 1t was the first important college game in which his son had played. and the two, always great pals, had looked forward to it from the time when the boy had come to learn just what foot ball meant in all its sport- Ing and traditional ramifications. i “Hello, Dad. Glad you could make | 1t.” Young Joyce, who was captain | of the team, came up to his father with lightened eves. Then. as he glanced toward the bench and saw a | gir] seated there he frowned heavily Now, this girl merited no such sizns of disapproval. The only trouble with | her, so far as Biffy Jovce was con- | him. cerned, was that she happened to be his sister. | “How did_Evelyn come to get on | the bench, Dad”" | “Oh, she wanted to come.” replied the elder Joyce. “Look here, son"— | he pointed toward the side-line bench | across the gridiron—"you needn’t be | so stuffy about Evelyn. There's a| girl with the Princeton team, too. | Biffy glanced toward the Tiger ! bench. At length he shrugged. “That | fsn't a girl. That's a_woman: the| mother, T suppose, of one of the play- | ers” | As the Yale freshmen galloped down field through their plays. up swept the rival team, lashed to its work by the voice of the quarterback. | In the poise of this slim voungster in the set of his head and the dy- amic quality of his every action he was masterful—just the sort of boy, it would appear, to handle a bunch of young huskies. He wore no head- guard, and the coppery sunlight rest- | ed upon his blond hair and made him | an_engaging figure to contemplate. velyn tugged at her father's sleeve. | Who is that Princeton quarter-| back?” Joyce shrugged. “How should 1 ‘What about mim?" Nothing—except he's the best look ing player on the field. “Humph'” “You see, he's captain. too.” Evelyn pointed toward the quarterback as he walked out to mid-field where Biffy Joyce and the referee were standing. | “My land! Biffy makes two of him. | What a big brute Biffy isn't_he? | And he's acting like a surly bear The other looks almost too fragile for | foot ball.” * ok ok X know, Evelyn? * .o % UT_immediately the zame began It appeared that the Princeton | quarterback’s fragility was less a mat- | ter of fact than of appearance. | Yale had the better team. and it ! was only this boy's intuition in diag- nosing the point of attack when his ! eleven was on defense. together with | his excellence in punting and running | back kicks, that held Yale to a touch- | down and a goal and one field goal | when the second quarter was drawing | o an end, while he. himself. had drop- | kicked a goal from the 30.vard line at | a difficult angle. Two minutes of the first haif vet remained, when Yale. getting the ball on downs on her 35-yard mark, tried & line play and they essayed a quick kick, hoping to take advantage of the | fact that the Princeton quarter had edged up toward the scrimmage until the last line of defense was not 25 yards away. But the plaver, as it proved, had not been caught napping. The instant the thud of the punt sounded, he was sprinting backward. Catching the ball over his shoulder, he dusted to- ward the side line and then up the boundary, leaving yard after yard be- hind him, skillfully dodging two or three players until he reached mid- field, where he encountered the main body of Yale men trying to seize him, and his teammates tryving to interfere. Wriggling out of one man's arms, evading another, straight-arming a third, he had just reversed his field and was darting out into the clear open, when Biffy Joyce, who had fore- seen the move, came at him from the side with a rush. The runner never saw hi he was wide open for a tackle as Joyce left the ground, his big form straightened stiff and rigid as a battering ram. Evelyn rose with a cry. and it w: then that the boy with the ball saw his peril. He had time only partly to brace himself when the impact came. 1t was a perfect tackle. The big shoulder crashed in under the run- ner's left arm. and he went to earth out of bounds, almost at Evelyn Joyce's feet. The ball jumped out of the relaxed arm and flew over the bench. It was a Yale player who first reached it, and as he fell upon it, securing it for his team, Jeremy Joyce turned to the side line and saw a singular thing. The player whom his son had tackled lay where he had fallen, his face devoid of color, his eves closed. But it was not this which gave Joyce sharp emotion. Such things are part of the game, and when Biffy Joyce had launched himself into his tackle, his father had half-risen, tense, strained, as though seeking to trans- mit his own strength to that of the player. Indeed, Joyce was not thinking ef the injured Princeton man at ali; it “I BEG YOUR PARDON. making for the dressing room, fajling into step at hix son's side. “Biffy"—his voice had a throaty sound—"Biffy, did vou know that fellow you tackled was the son of John Rutherford, who put me out of the Princeton game in my senior year at Manhattan Field? The big tackle regarded his father with a grim expression. “You bet I knew it. And there wasn't a minute through that half that I forgot it, either. But that | doesn’t mean I did anything but play clean foot ball.” 2 The Princeton freshman class, now upon its feet cheering bravely in the | face of a discouraging ouilook, con- | stituted the bulk of the speciators. | Joyce could see Rutherford’s mother moving toward the dressing room. Under some impulse which he did not care to analyze, he hurried across the gridiron to intercept her. When he came up to her and she paused with an inquiring expression that contained nothing of encourage- | ment, he hesitated, standing awk- wardly before her. “I'm—I'm amazed, Lucy.” he said, iat length. “that you've changed so little. You-—you haven't changed at all—except for the beiter.” He | smiléd, She did not smile in return. “Why have yvou hated us so?" she | asked. T never hated vou, Lucy ou must have. You and John carried on a business feud u»y to the I | “You were injuring me through him. You knew that. Do vou think it was decent of you to bear a grude based on a silly misunderstanding years back in college days?" Joyce flushed. “I don't think it was silly was no misunderstanding. stood perfectly.” wronged throughout, Jerry e. He never intended to break your leg or hurt vou in any way. He thought too much of you.” “Thought too much of me?’ He smiled mirthlessly. “Why didn't he And it 1, under- John I'M AFRAID I'M UNDULY ANXIOUS. YOU SEE, THAT IS MY SO HE BADLY HURT?” | vou, Jerry. say it was accidental? He never did say it ie couldn't after the way vou acted. He wasn't that sort, and you know he wasn't.” ' “I know- what sort he was—so far as I was concerned, Lucy. 1 know it in more ways than one. “Oh, Jerry” She looked at him. shaking her head slowly. ‘“Have you been any happier for living in bitter- nesa?” 8 4 *Happy He came close o her. ‘Happiness is for thore who start arly on the road that leads to it. “There is always a road that leads there.” “Where?” “I don’t think vou'd know if T teld I'm afraid you wouldn’t, for ft_was your son who hurt Jack this afternoon, and every one says it was an unnecessarily rough and vi- cious tackle.” “Good Heavens, Lucy! Foot ball is foot balll Are you inferring that I set my boy on your son? Why, I didn’t even know he was playing foot bail or that he was in college. “Your son knew it evident) he?” “Yes, he appears to have known 1 thought so. I'm. afraid—I am very deeply afraid—that you took care the grudge should be carried on. Do you realize your responsibility in planting the mistakea and misunder- standings of a dead past in the hearts «f the new generation?” Joyce's breath caught sharply. “T don't want vou to misunder- stand,” he said stifiy. “Biffy’s moth er died when he was very young. We have heen more like brothers than father and son. Naturally I've talked to him, told him evervthing. the good and the bad. But if you think that he or 1 deliberately——" “Whatever it was, Jerry, the un- fortunate result is before us." see. T thought when I came over, feeling no bitterness at all, that we might have a community of in. terest in our two hoys. Kvidently not. T shall make it a point to speak to Biffy and see that in the future he | he | 1t wasn't Jack who broke yvour leg. gives your son every consideration.” She raised her head proud’y You need not go to that trouble. 1 think vou will find Jack can take care of himself. “Yes, of cours hat mechanicall Joyee raised his | and was turning away, when Lucy Rutherford spoke. “By the way, you seemed very much interested in that lovely girl who spoke to Jack. Was she by any chance your daughter?® “Yes—she = v." she explained. “surely you must have seen the attraction. W we cannot have that. can we? It's too ridieulous. What can we do about it 5 “You leave that to me.” away with hutried step. * % kX IS forehead was creased into deep furrows as he walked his daughter. She received him with eager Interest. “You were talking to Mrs. Ruther- ford. weren't vou? 1 had no idea vou knew her” The girl laughed. “Or was it just a pick-up?” “Evel what are you about? Why, Mrs. Rutherford, I think she's the loveliest woman I ever saw. | She looks more like Jack's sister.” “Jack?" Joyce regarded his daugh- | ter with a disapproving stare. “Why “Jack'? You don't even know him. “Oh, ves, I do. I meun, I'm go- ing to. “Would it interest you any to know that his father was the man who t ball He strode to talking Her eves widened o that was the reason Biffy tackled him as did. 1 think he was heastly. “You're a fine daughter of a Yale man, aren't vou? “Now, father™ She placed a hand upon either shoulder, smiling up at him. Do you think that wax a nice thing to say?" He shook his head irritably. “I'm perfectly serious. Jack Ruth erfora’d the. sweetest thing! I'm knocked all in a heap. T think— he paused as a shout acclaimed the appearance of the Princeton team.| “Father, l0ok!” The girl was star- ing wcross the field, flushed, her eves glowing. - “Jack Rutherford is going to play.” Lvidently he was. He stood near the side-line, evidentiy, with | far of dancing step, as though to con- vince her of hix fitness 1o play. Exclaiming sharply. Joyce hurried out upon the gridiron. making his way toward the two. But he had nc completed half the distance when the Yale eleven appeared and the Prince- tonians ran out upon the field to take positions for receiving the kick-off. “'Lucy—" Joyce's manner was per- emptory as he came up to the woman. “Evidently you've no one fit to ad- vise you. 80 I'm going to. Your boy ought not to go into this game. Do vou know what may happen with broken ribs? Rutherford smiled. bs are not broken. The doc- the cartilage is torn:.that's wll. He has him steapped up and ways he will be quite all right.” She Iaid her hand upon You must understand why k wants to pl Do vou mean she said gent precisely what I mean.” He started. “And not 15 minutes ago you were ng about bitterness!” I'm not bitter, Jerry X a question of bitternexs. | well, you. of all men, must what it is." e stared at her. him. “Don't think I'm Tan not. The coach assures me that Jac ill be well protected. Now | come, please. They're getting ready for the kick-off.” e A MOMENT luter the two turned to see the ball sailing to the Prince- ton goal line. ing_to pped Jov Joyee hesitated. ‘that is e just She smiled at | Spartan mother: The the ateh it s arm quarter back snatched the foot ball. | Momentous details hegan to de- velop. Biffy Joyce, who had come down with the ends. launched into a tackle. But Rutherford eluded him. Havjng evaded the three opponen “t down the field. he sprinted 10 more yards of clear territory and then cut over toward the side lines, always the path of danger for the defense. The questing Yale center dived at got one arm avound the run hips. knocking him down, but holding him. Rolling over and but alwags onward. Rutherford ned his feet and worked his way of a group of Yale tacklers. ck! Don't let them catch you!" ax her son side-stepped And ther the outlving defensive player and ove: out his mother, his feet moving in a sort aped over the goal line, Mrs. Ruther- was his daughter. She was kneeling upon the ground at the unconscious player’s side. her hand passing to and fro arross his forehead. With an exclamation of annoyvance, Joyce started toward the girl “He’s out, cold.” glanced up at a man of professional appearance, a physician, who had come over {rom the Princeton side. “Evelyn, vou're interfering. Come away.” Yes, father.” The girl did not move. all her attention being concen- trated upon the doctor, whose hand were passing deftly over the bo; body. “A" couple of ribs may be broken: probably a concussion. Get him 1o the field house, where I can work on He'll come arcund all right.” x % ok % REMY JOYCE was turning away with relief when he felt a hand upon_his arm “I beg your pardon. 1'm afraid 1'm unduly anxious. You see. that is my son. Is—is he badly hurt?' “Oh. no. indeed. Jovee's voice was hearty. Then. as he faced the wom en. his eyes seemed veiled in sub. merged feeling, while across the sereen of his mind. lightened into in- candescence, came long words: But the hlue in her eves will sver tell That her heart helongs to Yale Blue. indeed, were the eves, blue as ever they were. But the red in the lips had not lessened, and the rose in her cheeks had not the color of -Princeton still glinted in the living brown hair. Lucy West!” “Lucy Rutherford.” She seemed about (o say something when the phy siclan came up. “Doctor?” him with an abrupt movement. “Oh, Jack's all rizht. that's all, and a couple of ribs dam- aged “Oh! Several of Rutherford’s teammates had lifted him to his feet mother turned to him. He looked curiously &t Evelyn Jovee, who had not moved from his side. His eves wandered to his mother and back to 1he girl again. Suddenly he started, for. somehow, deep in his subcon. scicus mind was the knowledge of her ministering touch. the feel of her soft, cool fingers across his forehead, across his hair. *Jack"—his mother came to him- “hadn’t you better go? -Reyvecroft wants to look at you.” “Nonsense, mother. The boy lifted | his head “I'm going to play. I'm— He suddenly bent over, his hands pressed against his side. He looked up. this time at Evelyn. *I guess I'm not going to play, afted all.” He smiled. “I'm Jack Rutherford,” he said. raising his brows questioning- Iv. sShe smiled, too. “I'm Evelvn Joyce. hurt.” Mrs. Rutherford glanced at her son. | “Jack,” she said. “I want you to let these boys take vou to the dress- ing-room at once.” Sure. Only I'll go myself.” He turned to Evelyn with an infectious smile. T have a feeling you've been decent to me. Miss Jovee. Anvway, I'm crazy that I've met vo “I'm glad. too, Mr.-Mr. a There was less than a play left for the second quarter and when half time arrived Jeromy Joyce joined the stream of players ] Ruther- The Yale trainer | forgotten | grown pale, and | she faced | Stunned. | as his | I'm so glad you are not badly | minute of | (Continued from First Page.) | are connected with it. Brilliant lights and water spouts arve changed automatically at the keyboard in an adjoining room, or the operator may | make flluminations and water sprays | keep time to music. The jeweled eyes | of the feathered =nakes of the foun- tain seem. during such electrical ex- hibition. to cast a spell all th&ir own. rhe Qtainbow tountain of the Re flecting Pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial is in contrast to the quiet, | setting of the pan-American fountain That cutdeor water display is sugges- | tive of a carnival and one who at-| tends the aquatic display might, if he | is imaginative, even hear laughter | and music. o ox ok HE Dupont feuntain. which has been placed by the Dupont family In Dupont Circle. replaces the monu ment of the admiral erected by the United States for his distinguished | services to the Nation Provision has been made for installing water pumps which will send the same water through the fountain over and over again, meeting the needs of economy. | The water falls in cataracts from | three spoutways of a marble basin | more than 12 feet in diameter into a | |large hasin at the base of the foun- ! | tain. It is just shewery enough to | suggest cooiness and speaks holdiy | enough to the children to say. “The | ater's fine.” In lovking at the beau- tiful carved figures on the shaft of the fountain, one breathes in mystery | and legend. for Daniel Chester | French. 1ts sculptor, has personified | Sea. Wind and Stars in marble Even in hottest weather. when so many fountains are turned off to save water. the Columbus fountain runs, hecause of the provision there v pumping the same water and over again for the spra This group in front of the Union Station | consists of a $100.000 memorial erected | by Congress to honor Columbus and | of two immense granite urns Lo east| and west of the monument. Tha fountain group, with its plenteous sup- ply of water, actually encourages one to plan a trip to the seashore. The | volume of the noisy water splashing over the urn suggests the delights of the vacation at the seaside. The appropriateness of supplyvi | the Columbus memorial with water fegtures is apparent. Columbus, a 16-foot figure wrapped in his sea | cloak. is seen stepping from his cabin | Iy that chilly morning of October | 12, 1492, when he beheld for the first | time the shores of the New World. The 29-ton globe surmounting the me- | morial demonstrates the story which | Columbus tried to tell the people of his time that “the world is round.” It was mapped to show the geography | of the New World. The Indian on the memorial is a trihute to the mem- | of the people Columbus found on | this side of the Atlantic. while the | hearded Burepean alde presented. | Wilking through the Capitol grounds on the north side of the buflding. tour ists and even Washingtoniana are often surprised to come upon the over |~ | ivy-grown, red-brick rest house, with- | COURT OF NEPTLU Fountains of Washington Represent | Large Aggregate of Artistic Wealth | merely that Jaek would be protected.” | field | tackle | { Or is foot ball only foot ball when the | 0dds faver a Yale man?" ! foot ball EVELYN ROSE WITH A SHARP ( ‘RY. AND IT WAS THEN THAT THE BOY WITH THE BALL SAW HIS PERIL. ford turned to Jagce, clinging weakly. “‘Oh, yes.” he sigiled vaguely. . K | has made a touciflown. husn't h “Hasn't he!” L shook him, | half-laughing, half-crying. “Didn’t you nee " “Why—why—no. 1-—1 was watch- ing Biffy. But. of course—certainly that was a wonderful run. You've— you've raised a foot ball player, my dear girl. Then, as Yale began a rushing at- tack, Joyce, whose attention was fixed upon his son, saw something that seemed completely to involve his in- terest as he and Lucy walked along about 10 yards from the side-line, fol- lowing the movement of the ball. “That Princeton right tackle and end.” he said. “and that big fullback are doing nothing but play Biffy, no matter where the ball Roes. “What does that mean. Jerry “It means,” he said, “that they're giving him a consistent pounding, try- ing to weaken him.” “Really?” She was silent ment. “Is that unusua isn't that done in foot ball? Well, of course He hesitated. T.ook here, is that what vou meant when vou said that your son was go- ing to be well protected’ “How should I know?' Her face was calm. “The Princeton coach said a mo- 1 mean, “Hyn. Yes” Joyce turned to the hs Yale. having tried two off- plays without gain. threw a | forward pass too far. the ball going { into the hands of Rutherford, who | -arvied it 20 yards before he was downed. “Look at them'" Princeton essayved a sweep play while the trio of sturdy Prineetonians blocked Biffy vee high and low, sending him banging to the ground. Mrs. Rutherford smiled. e ** She regarded him with curious eyes. I really don’t under- stand you at all.” “\What don't you understand?" “Why. when Riffy, who must weigh | over 180 pounds, tackled Jae who doesn’t weigh 150 pounds, and knocked him unconscious. you said it was a part of the game. Foot hall is foot ball. vou said. Why isn't it Just as much foot ball now, when the odds hapgen to be against your son” “Lucy, 1 didn't know vou had any spite In vour make-up. “Spite!” Merciful land asking “All right, listen. that tack I'm merely Every one knows 8 is a legitimate part of the harder the better. But when you set three or four rough necks on an inexperienced boy, why, it's—it's awful.” =t * o ox % | HIERE came the thud of a punt Rutherford. sering that the Yale quarterback playinz well up and to one side. had duplicated the ex pedient of a quick kick which Wale had tried earlier. The ball sailed over the outlying buck's head, struck the ground and bounded down the field, veering toward the side line. In the scurry that followed the | Yale quarterback got to the ball first | and threw himself upon it. But his | grasp was elusive. The ball siid out from under his chest and went rol. | ing away at vight angles. One of the Princeton ends picked it up and sped toward the Yale zoul. heing downed. however, as he reached the 10-vard | Tine. i The climax of the game had heen reached. The field judge had run up | with the required warning thst but two minutes remained to plav. ana | the Princeton plavers were gathered around Rutherford. their heads down. | their arms interlaced about one an other's shoulders. Then. as the group disintegrated | | and the players 1an into their posi tlons, Rutherford's voice rose, valling the signal. The nexi instant the play was_concentrated upon Biffy Joyce the big fullback, with the bail tuck ed under his arm. trampling over his prostrate form for a four-yard gain. Mrs. Rutherford glanced at Joyce & ,____‘ E FOUNTAIN AT THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Grotto, which is o quaint as to ap- pear medieval. This delightful, old. out roof, is entered by fay through any one of the three iron gates. which are kept locked at night. Visitors sitting on the bronze seats around the | triangular walls of the building may | enjoy the bubbling fountain in the center. There is no great bursting forth of water. but three small sprays | suprly the basin. which is in the | form of a built-up well with three | outlets yielding water for drinking purposes. Through a latticed open- ing above the seats on one side of the fountain may be seen,a miniature | grotto with streams of water tric- ling among its rocks This romantic fountain arrangement was built when Frederick Olmstead was landscape gardener at the Capitol, and suggests the rural fountains of France or Brittany built in the fourteenth cen- tury. Ag an old citv landmark. Truxton fountain. now in Truxton Circle, at| Nerth Capitol street and Florida ave- | e, has become well known. Long | fore that part of the District was bullt up the fountain gave its cheer Iinto a fountain. { rowing women, | seats. In hot weather in Shields Circle, then at Massachusetis avenue and First street. * e HE fountain of Pireni at Corinth is associated with the legend that Pireni shed so many tears when Diana slew her son that she was changed The McMillan foun- tain, with its three classical bronze maidens, suggests that such a change might have been made for three sor- "ept that they have happy faces. At that artistic foun- tain. in its garden setting in McMil an Park. there is plenty of splashing, falling water at all times. This is be cause the gocation of the four what was filtration grounds permits use of the water on its way from the reservoir to the filtration bed. This masterpiece of Herbert Ada the sculptor, is at the head of three broad flights of pink nite steps flanked by evergreens. It is the center of an octagonal stone platform aronnd which are stone The most striking feature of the fountain itself the three bronze graces who stand with their backs to a central bronze column and look out nown for a long time as| over the green lawns about them. Jet of water flows from the center ol the small bronze basin, above their heads. One of the maidens suggests the actlon of sowing seed, anothgr may be said to be carrying a branch of growing fruit, while the third is perhaps in the attitude of giving to others the wealth of the garden she carries. The four water serfs at the corners of the foot of the fountair pour heavy sprays into small granite basins, which overflow into the large one-rimmed basin at the base. This _costly memorial to honor James McMillan, Senator from Mich- izan, 1889-1902, was erected by the cit- izens of Michigan. It is a reminder of the 12 years' service given by the Senator in efforts to provide ton with pure drinking water and in obtaining plans for a suitable parking system. It recalls Senator = McMil: lan’s influence In the moving of the railroad tracks from the southern part of the city; in the calling of experts to plan the parkwa; | minder of his generosity in using h { private funds to help in planning the | improvement scheme for the Districi able. (Cooyright. 1926.) A | ue ANE-| him as he nearly fell. | and also is a re | before Government funds were avail- | traine: as his son rose wearily to his feet and crouched doggedly into his position. But the man made no sign. She touched him upon the arm “Jerry”—her volce was low, insist ent—"tell me; it iz foot hall. isn't it?/ Be falr now. I—I—want to know.| U'm really ignorant. | t—it depends upon whose son it is,” he replied, not looking at her. ok ow o Amm\ the play shot at Joyce, hut thir time he broke it up in ite tracks. Third down. The Vlmflhr{ signal came from Rutherford's lips| and the ball, on a split play. was again shot at Joyce = position. the Princeton fullback and his interference driving over him, knecking him out of the way and penetrating the secondary defense to the two-yard line. Fourth down. Standing like stat Lucy Rutherford and Joyce stood watching the Princeton quarterback. Head erect, keen-eyved. cool, he was surveying the Yale left tackle, who was now kneeling in his position wait- ing for the asse<it. But obviously he was not in condition to meet it. He was through. carrying on merely by virtue of Indomitable spirit, Joyee had just reached the side. line when Rutherford’s voice rose: “Time out for Princeton, Mr. Ref- eree. He walked straight to Biffy. “Look here,” he said, “you ought not to stay in this gam: “You——" The Yale man's volce caught. Then he aimed a wild swing at Rutherford, who ducked it and caught him by the arm, supportig Rutherford turned to the referee: “This man is out on his feet. 1 didn’t realize it until the last play. He can’t protect himself and he ought to %0 out. A foot ball game {sn't worth anyhody's life.” The official looked from.one man to the other, puzzied. Then he stepped to | beckoning to the Yale| [ the | not | turned te Joyce. | to wanted to say something, but she knew not what to say, or at least was unable to put what she would like to say into words. And the strangeness of his manner withheld her, too. The manner of his son had also un- dergone a change. He stood erect now. his eyes blazing, as though the Incident had summoned resources he vond himself. As the trainer splashed @ sponge against the back of hisx neck, the hoy's hand shot out, pushing him way with a force that sent him stumbling backward. “Get out. I'm all right.” He turned his back to the referee and strode into his place. * ook HERE came the hark of the signal. The next instant the Princeton left end swung around behind the iine, took the ball and darted on a wide course around the right end. And right then and there, the prog ress of the play was lost to the eves of the man and woman who stood t« gether on the side line. For Biffy Joyce, untouched by the play, both teams swinging wide and clear with the movement of the hall, stood sway ing, his eyes closed. Then he went to the greund like log. alone. nn- marked, save by his father and the woman at his side. 1t was Lucy who first reached the side of the unconscious player, whiie a fluttering cheer from the Yale sul stitutes and the Yale partisans marked the downing of the Princeton runne: on the l-yard line and the ball in Yale's possession 3 oyce turned to Luey Rutherford with drawn face. “Do yvou know what that boy of yours did?" i She iooked up at the man with kifi- dling color. “I'm wondering if he saved Biffy's - moved, then sat bolt upright. He looked ahout him “What's the matter? Did they score?” Tie game, hoy.” There was a curi- ous note In the father's volce. He turned as though with sudden thought to Lucy Rutherford. “Look there, will you!" Jack Rutherford and Evelyn Joyce, 1ed, had met in midfield and ming toward them. ther!™ the girl beckoned to Joyce, who started to advance to meet them, then paused, glancing at his son and smiling with reassurance as he saw him waiking from the fleld with slanting gait. his arm about a fellow er's shoulde “ome on, Luey.” he said. He took arm, and thus the four met on tramped turf of a hard-fought field.” “Father,” cried the girl. “I have heen trying to tell Jack that he did a big thing, a bigger thing than any- thing he will ever do in foot ball That is v-hat they were saying on the Yale hench.” “Bunk!" ingly to Juyce. her Rutherford turned laugh- “All bunk. Any one | could see that the Yale secondary was all massed behind Biffy Joyce. I'm throwing Yale zames aw don’t want to be a hypocrite.” “Jack.” His mother faced hi vour mother. I want the truth, But Joyce intervened. “No, 10, Lucy, we don't want the truth, and, as vou said a while ag the results are before us. lsn't t enough? It is for m They stood for a moment, eve (o Then Lucy Rutherford looked I think so. She turned, the man's eyes full. es, meeting | it's quite enough for me.” lifted an illumined face fo the sky. You think I'm—well nutty, but do vou remember a fool poem 1 wrote when I was in college and sent to you? It's heen going through my head ail day “lias it7" She looked at him. 1g vividly. “So it has through m. d. If you'll come around some night 1n New York and dine, I'll show vou the original.” What night?” Jeremy Joyce con- fronied her Just name the night”" Wiy, father. whv not tonight" lvn smiled at Mrs. Rutherford “You see, Jack agked me to dine with him in town tonight, and I sald we'd take him in our car. But now—well, why ~an't we get Biffy Joyce and ke it sort of a family part) A family party!” Mrs. Rutherford ‘Why not?” ° One of Joyce's hands rose awiftly to his forehead. His eyes were upc Lucy Rutherford, but he seemed not hear her, seemed to be meeink throug and beyond. her, his face that of § man knowing visions. Suddenly he smiled. “Why not! Lucy, TI'll say why not:" (Copsright. 1926.) Bread and Watel; Bad? READ and water diet—is it really nourifhing enough to keep prison- ers in fairly good condition? Or is it doing them harm? An expert in the Bureau of Chemistry. Joseph . Mur- phy. has been working on this proh. lem lately to settle the question. His results so far show that if a man is in reasonably good physical condition ich a diet brings no dangers with it “An individual could live more than a month without food,” said Mr. Mur phy recently. “So that therg is no question of serious consequences fol lowing 20 days on bread and water. An individual who ate nothing but bread, especially white bread, for a long period of time, say a year, would probably suffer from malnutrition.” Say Joyce or Dried brnnge Juice N the future compact little pack- ages of dried orange juice will prob. ably form an_essential part of ships’ supplies. It is well known that citrus fruits are rich in vitamin C, which has the property of preventing scurvy, a disease from which sailors on long voyages used to suffer greatly in yea past. Orange juice can be dried and atill retain its health-giving vitamins after long periods of time, recent ex- periments have shown. A mixture of orange juice and sugar, when removed from & pari vacuum wheve it had been lefi for five years, still retained its power (v prevent scurvy In guinea Mrs. Rutherford turned te Joyce, who stood immobile, watching. She pige living on a diet otherwise free from vitamin C.