Evening Star Newspaper, December 25, 1928, Page 33

WOMAN'’S PAGE. Gleaming Stones in Shoe Buckles BY MARY MARSHALL. Putting your best foot forward now |much as the slippers they adorned, means putting the best part of your|and now these new shoe buckles some- foot forward Instead of + BRONZE CUT-STEEL BUCKLE ON A SIMPLE BROWN KID OR SILK PUMP. SHOE BUCKLES OF GREEN AND WHITE CRYSTALS. ONE OF SMALL RUBY STONES. ONE OF RHINESTONES AND CUT CRYS- ‘TALS, RHINESTONES AND AME- THYSTS. THE BUCKLE WITH ROUNDED ENDS IS OF CUT STEEL AND JET, AND BELOW IS INDI- CATED ROSE AND BLUE. bn their heels, well dressed women now wear them in their shoe buckies. Or- namental heels that were so popular a few seasons ago were frequently bought separately and cost several times as AN ENAMEL BUCKLE IN| wearing | times cost as much as $30 or $40 Shinestones and other gleaming Monrs[ —more if they are made with semi- precious stones instead of glass imi- | tations. ‘ For wear with shoes of black or navy blue, hand-riveted, finely cut | steel buckles are frequently chosen. With shoes of brown, beige or that new | slightly reddish brown shade called | acajou, cut bronze buckles are the rule. Colored stones are used alone or in combination with rhinestone for eve- ! ning slippers. Jet is used with cut steel | for "afternoon, sometimes with rhine- stones for evening. Then there are cut- steel buckles in colored effects—giving a metallic blue effect for blue shoes and metallic green for green kid. | Some of the newest evening buckles are quite small. There are broad, | rather shallow, buckles for both after- | noon and evening. _Others are a full | two inches deep. This type of buckle | T would not recommend to the woman | with a markedly short foot, but they | are decidedly flattering to the woman with an_unusually long foot. For the | pilump foot that is inclined to puff at the instep they also have an ad- | vantage, since they completely hide the line where shoe and instep meet. If you need another separate skirt t0o wear with a sweater or jumper, I think you will find this week’s dia- gram helpful. It shows how to cut and make one of the new straight skirts with a wide pleat at the left side. On receipt of your stamped, seli- dressed envelope I wlil gladly send | you a copy of this diagram pattern | with a sketch and working directions. (Copyright, 1928.) i Mince Pie. Cook slowly until tender three pounds of round of beef, then chop fine. Shred or chop one pound of suet and mix with the meat. The suet is not to be cooked. Measure and add twice as much chop- ped tart apples which have been washed, | pared and cored, three pounds of seeded raisins, three pounds of well picked over dried currants, one pound of can- died orange peel chopped fine, one ounce each of powdered mace, cloves and all- | spice, two ounces of powdered cinna- mon, one grated nutmeg, two guarts of | New Orleans molasses, two quarts of | sweet cider, two cupfuls of sugar and one large glass of currant jelly. Cook all slowly with frequent stirring for two hours. Let cool, then add two cupfuls of grape juice. Bake in flaky crusts. PERSONAL HEALTH SERVICE BY WILLIAM Is Bulk Dignity? I it is not unfair to the system, I wish to warn any schoolboy or school- girl who may happen to read this item that the syllogism to the effect that things cqual to the same thing are equal to each other is pretty certain to get you in Dutch if you attempt to apply it to actual life. As a theoretical propostion it may be ever so satisfac- tory to the geometry instructor and as clearly demonstrable by diagrams as any nonentity can be, but it is not so ood when you test it with realities. r instance, theoretically you and I have the same rights of citizenship, but practically there may be enough of my kind of people to prevent your kind of people from enjoying some of these rights. A fundamental principle of ethics and courtesy is that one must feel and manifest respect for elders. Perhaps this is going out of fashion with us; it was probably much more reverently observed in bygone times and it iS probably now most characteristic of primitive or semi-civilized races. Youth ‘will not remember, but I dare say dad can, a time when it was a clear demand of courtesy that a boy raise his hat when he met principal or teacher (male), minister, lawyer, doctor or in fact any gentleman who appeared at gemmomem sober. Now youth scarce- After all, why should youth respect gge? Theoretically because age im- plies wisdom, but far be it from me to expect sophisticated modern youth to take this idea seriously. Actually, I think the main factor is bulk. Mere displacement certainly inspires a de- BRADY, M. D. gree of respect, that is, up to a reason- able limit. Overstep #his reasonable limit and your dignity is gone fluey— it becomes comedy. Take Gen. Hindenburg, in uniform or in mufti. Dignity plus. Try to imagine him shriveled to the displace- ment of the King of Italy. Or imagine Mussolini throwing out his chest in a meeting with the King of Belgium. Dig- nity is surely determined, at least in part, by bulk. Japan's new Ambassador to the Uuited States has plenty of dig- nity, though typically low in stature. How Come? The man is there with’the displacement. There is a resonable minimum be- low which the bulk cannot fall without the risk of becoming comical. This gives preternaturally tall or skinny folk a lot of grief, and sometimes it becomes an actual strain on their minds trying to preserve their dignity. Ofterr such unhappy folk try, as a way of escape, a pretended facetiousness re- garding their own appearance, but with the striking of such an attitude the last vestige of dignity is sacrificed, and so they grow secretly embittered, while outwardly trying to crack a smile. A normal man or woman ideally reaches maximum bulk at the age of 30 years, but actually lays on additional bulk up to the age of 45 years. At 45 one has the maximum attainable digni- ty, in other words. Thereafter it re- mains unchanged until 70, when there begins a shrinkage of displacement, and with the shrinkage a corresponding loss of dignity, as it seems to me. Of course bulk is not the only factor, but it is an important factor. The small boy naturally respects the big boy, un- less he believes the big boy is a boob. {(Copyright. 1928.) MOVIES AND MOVIE PEOPLE BY MOLLIE MERRICK. HOLLYWOOD, Calif., December 25.— Along the boulevard: Christmas in Cinemaland. Papier-mache Santa Clauses adorning concrete chimneys perched perilously on the edge of glass awnings; staid doormen, robbed of their Plue and silver and gold and red to don the rouged nose and scarlet flan- nel and cotton trim of our popular con- ception of St. Nicholas. Young Doug Fairbanks and Joan Crawford, hand in hand, not caring whether the public laughs at their cb- wvious devotion or not; small-town ¢ >ct- hearts and proud of Jetta C adal, back from her mysterious dic near- ance; at least, her press agent ted it was mysterious, but nobody ¢ ¢ aed the Jeast bit concerned among ¥ : intelli- entsia. (They're only conce ned about hemselves, anyway.) Some beauty doctor probably could have given you Jetta’s address any moment of the time. Tinseled Christmes trees punctuat- Qg the boulevard at regular intervals. et the town alw strikes one as a Christmas tree that's been left up over- §ong. You have the apologetic air of $he housewife who knows that the tinsel nd red and silver balls should have FXQH‘ locked away in the garret before ew Year's da: Removal sales, creditors’ sales, clos- gng-out sales—the boulevard is thick with signs. Unity pegues, Hollywood's ost distinguished book shop, has been aving a creditors’ sale. Hollywood has & book evidently. Street markets with the extravagant aspect of the holiday son. Avocados for 25 cents. Doesn'’t that make you grind your teeth? Well, ene has got to get something for living n Movieland! Pale raspberries, great golden oranges, SONNYSAYINGS BY FANNY Y. CORY. Well, it's all ober now, too much dinner an’ gettin' sick! (Copyrisht, 1928, "cept eatin’ grapefruit the size of a small terres- trial globe, mounded nuts, clean henna- colored filberts, blond luscious walnut meats, the vegetables and fruits of Summer, the sun of Summer. Not a person in sight with a fur coat on ex- cept an occasional movie star who must air her sables at any cost. Herman Manciewitz, who brings noted authors to Hollywood and talks movies to them until they squirm, ought to be stopped. Belle Bennett—she has the rights to Isadora Duncan's life, I un- derstand. Let’s hope she’s on the good side of the censor. Isador was the sort of girl who brought censorship boards into being. George Fawcett, going strong among all the newcomers, fad- ing out old-timers and never-wasers; a gentleman of the South, an actor of the old school and a man with a brain and a sense of humor. Delicate gentlemen with blondined hair, blond brains and bland manners, standing at street corners, looking busily from left to right, hoping some director will spot them from his limou- sxrne and that life will be rosy there- after. Girls in leather coats and leather helmets who have never even seen the cockpit of an airplane. One in scarlet leather has long blond curls hanging nearly to her waist. (Copyright. 1928, by North American Newspaper Alliance.), Duchesse Soup. The value of soup is that it helps save the roast for a second day serv- |ing. This soup is quickly made and | delicious. For six or seven portions, chop two good-sized onions after peel- ing and cook until tender in three cup- fuls of water. Put through a sieve, add three cupfuls of milk, two table- spoonfuls of butter, creamed, with one and one-half tablespoonfuls of flour. Cook until smooth and season with pep- per, celery salt and a shake of pow- dered mace. When ready to serve, add three tablespoonfuls of grated sharp cheese. Al gl Louisiana Shrimps. Cook one tablespoonful of chopped onion with six = tablespoonfuls of butter for five minutes, stirring con- stantly. Add two tablespoonfuls of flour and stir until smooth, then add two cupfuls of canned shrimps broken in pieces, two cupfuls of hot boiled rice, one cupful of cream and one cupful of evaporated milk. When well heated add one teaspoonful of salt, one teaspoonful of celery salt, a little cayenne pepper and half a cupful of tomato catsup. Succotash. | Dice one slice of salt pork and cook | with half a cupful of dried baking beans | soaked over night in just enough water [to_cover, until the beans are tender. Add one can of corn, half a teaspoonful of sugar, salt and pepper to taste, and simmer for 15 minutés. When taking up, add one tablespoonful of butter. AUNT HET BY ROBERT QUILLEN, “I advised all of my girls to marry men that had sisters, so they'd be f | halter-broke to start with.” (Copyright, 1928.) BRIDGE TALKS BY MRS. JOEN MUNCE, JR. Scoring of Honors. Honors are scored in the honor score of the side to which they are deal and their value is not changed by dou- bling or redoubling. For example, the declaration is one heart and declarer holds the ace, king, five-spot, three-spot and deuce of hearts, and his partner holds the ten-spot, eight-spot and the seven-spot. They would count 10 each, or 30 in the honor score. * Anotber example: The bid is one dia- mond and declarer holds in his hand the ace, jack, ten-spot, eight-spot and six-spot. = His partner holds the king and queen of diamonds: They score 50 in their honor score as they have five honors in the two hands. Another illustration: Declarer has the bid at one club and holds the ace, king, queen, jack and six-spot. His partner holds the nine-spot, eight-spot and five-spot. They score 80 in their honor score, as they have four honors in one hand. Another example: The declaration is one spade and declarer holds the ace, king, queen, jack and seven-spot, and his partner holds the ten-spot, six-spot and four-spot. They score 90 in the in one hand and the fifth in the part- ners’, . Here is another example: ration is three hearts and the declas holds the ace, king, queen, jack, ten- spot and four-spot and scores 100 in his honor score, as he has five honors in one hand. As to no-trump honors, the bid is one no trump and declarer holds three aces, they count 10 each, or 30, in their honor score,. If declarer holds one ace and his partner two aces in a no- trump bid, they score 30 in their honor score, and if decla.er or his partner hold only two aces, neither side scores in the honor score. But if declarer or his partner holds four aces in his hand with no trump the declaration, he counts 100 in his honor score. In no- trump declaration the declarer does not always hold three aces, and if the ad- versaries hold three or four aces, they score accordingly. If declarer wins 13 tricks, he makes a grand slam and scores 100 points in the honor score. If declarer wins 12 tricks, he makes a little slam and scores 50 points in the honor score. When declarer bids seven and only makes six-odd, he scores 50 for a small slam, although he was set “one”-odd. While we are on the honor score it is well to mention that the penalty for a revoke, when scored to the credit of the adversary, goes into the honor score and is recorded above the horizontal line. Also to repeat that the penalty for “set tricks” is recorded above the line to the credit of the adversary. During the play each side has ac- cumulated a trick score, in which are written only points earned by winning odd tricks, and an honor score in which the bonuses are recorded. At the end of the rubRer the total points of a side are obtained by adding together its trick score and its honor score, including the 250-point bonus for the rubber won. Subtracting the smaller total from the greater gives the net points by which the rubber is won and lost. It is the accepted custom at many parties, where it is desired to progress, that the system of rubbers (that is, the best two out of three games) is abandoned, and a given number of hands, usually four or eight, is played in lieu of a rubber. This is known as ‘party bridge” and necessitates some slight rearrangement of the scoring. ‘The tricks and honors are counted ex- actly as in playing rubbers, but it is customary to add a bonus of 125 for game in one hand, instead of the 250 bonus for winning a rubber. There is also one other generally accepted fea- ture. Whenever no bid is made by the four hands dealt, the dealer does not lose his deal, but either reshuffies and deals with the same deck or makes a There should be just enough liquid re- maining to moisten well. Lima beans may be substituted for the other beans, but don't leave oui the pork. Rl new deal with the second deck. It is generally customary to record the score of the winners and losers at the actual total number of points made by player, honor score, as they have four honors |good sized D. G, WORLD FAMOUS STORIES THE SECOND VOYAGE OF SINBAD THE SAILOR (rmln “Arabian_Nights.’ ) Y BILL NYE. (The “Arabian Nights Tales,” so called, are known in collected form as “The Thou: sand ane One Nights,” being supposedly told by a wife of the suitan to keep her lord and master interested and thereby postpone her own impending execution. _ She succeeds and is finally pardoned, so fascinating are her stories.) After my first voyage I thought I would spend the rest of my life in Bag- dad, but I soon began to hunger for adventure and activity. I decided to try my hand at trading again. So I invested in goods and entered partner- ship with merchants known for their honesty. ‘We put to sea in a good ship and all went well until we landed on an un- inhabited island to get fresh air and, also, fresh water. We liked the beautiful country so much that we banqueted under the trees, and afterwards I fell asleep. When I awoke the ship was gone. I was astonished to be thus left alone. Not one of the men who had landed with me was to be seen. I had been deserted. I scolded myself severely for not having been satisfied to remain in once and quickly tled mysel? to it, as firmly as possible, leaving the meat ugpermolc with myself hidden beneath The eagles came, as I had supposed. Each of them seized a piece of meat —and one of the strongest of the birds picked the plece of mest to which I had fastened myself. I felt myself whirled into the air, hauging from the meat which was gripped in_the mighty talons of the monstrous bird. I was carried to & nest on the moun- tain toK. Merchants and traders immediately set_about rrlghtenin! the eagle away, and they approached the nest as soon as it was vacant. They were consid- erably surprised and somewhat fright- ened to see me there, and they de- xré:fl:g tfigl:now why I should be s eir property. ~“Don’t be hasty,” I said. “When you kindly. you. In fact, I have brought than your meat could ever ou more ng up Bagdad with my little fortune, which |t you ;lould have kept me well the rest of my lays. However, I decided to do all that I climbed a tree to take All T could see in the ocean was sky and water. But as I looked toward the land I could see something white. comfl down from the tree, I immediately out in the direction of the white thing —for it was so far away that I had not been able to make out what it was! As I came nearer, I perceived it to be a white bowl of a prodigious height, and when I touched it I discovered it to have a very smooth surface. I walked around it to see if there was any kind of opening, but there was none. I could not climb up it, because it was too smooth. Its circumference was at least 50 paces, The sun was about to set and the sky grew suddenly dark. The darkness, however, was caused by & bird of mon- strous_size which came flying toward me. I had heard of the roc, the gi- gantic bird in sallors’ stories, and I knew now that the great bowl I had found must be its egg. Indeed, the bird alighted and sat over the egg to hatch it. I had crept close to the egg as she settled down over it, and right before me ‘was one of the bird’s legs—as big as the trunk of a tree. I took the opportunity to tie myself strongly to the bird’s leg with the cloth that went around my tur-' ban, in hopes that when the roc flew away the next momlnfime ‘would carry me with her out of this desert island. I was carried away all right. The bird flew so high I could not see the earth. Then she descended suddénly, so fast that I fell into a swoon. When I awoke I found that the roc was on the ground, so I hastily unfastened my- self. I was just in time, for the bird, having taken a huge serpent in its bill, flew away. . Now I was in a deep valley. The cliffs were so high that it appeared im- possible ever to hope to scale them. I had left a desert island for this im- passable valley—surely I was not much better off than before! An amazing thing to me was the fact | that this valley was strewn with huge diamonds—genuine specimens of the precious stones. Some of them were the largest I had ever seen or heard of, but they were of little use to me in my pre- dicament. What did captivate my at- ention, though, was a bunch of huge serfienn which threatened my life. I took refuge in a cave and blocked the door with a rock for the night. The serpents came out only at night, ap- parently. In the daytime I was safe from them. Something that fell into the valle with a great noise awakened me. It was a colossal piece of fresh meat— perhaps the whole side of a freshly butchered cow. Other ' pieces fell down in other places. Now I had heard fables of this val- lgtg of diamonds, which was inacces- sible to man because of the high precipices surrounding it. But I had never believed such stories until now. The truth was clear, beyond a doubt. ‘These pieces of fresh meat were thrown down into the valley by av- aricious men who desired to secure diamonds. , The way the scheme worked was this. The sharp-pointed gems would cling to the sides of the meat. The meat would attract the attenion of tic eagles w] uented the valley. ‘These eagles would pick up the meat in their claws and carry it up to their nests on the cliffs to feed their young. These nests could be reached by the diamond hunters, each man ha his own particular nest, and any diamonds brought by the eagles to that nest belonging to him exclusively. The men would frighten the eagles away long enough to take the diamonds from the sticky sides of the meat. 2 niniking that this Valley would be Ty s valley woul my grave, But these thoughts ve me an idea for escape. First of all, I stuffed my with the finest and largest diamonds I could find. Then I waited until a particularly large plece of meat fell down. J selzed | I showed them my huge diamonds, which were larger and finer than any that had ever been secured by the accidental means of the fresh meat. ‘The merchant into whose nest I had been carried was reassured, and they all treated me in & very friendly man- ner, They sdmired my courage more than the cleverness of my strategem, however. 1 was made welcome among them and went to their temporary p) of abode. The diamonds I had selected in the valley were a continual source of admiration to them. I told the trader into whose nest I had been de- posited to take as many as he wished for his share. But he took only one, and that of the least fine of the lot. He said that that stone glone would be sufficient to set him up with cap- ital enough to take care of him for the rest of his life. - After the merchants had kept up the meat-throwing game for several days, and had secured enough dia- monds to satisfy them for this trip, we set sail for home. On the way I was enabled to exchange some of my diamonds for good merchandise. They landed me at a port from which it was not hard for me to make my way to . There I immediately dis- tributed alms among zh‘e"xoor and lived honorably with the th which had cost me so much trial and worry. Cranberry Roly-Poly. Cook 4 cupfuls of cranberries in 1 cupful of water and two and one-half cupfuls of sugar. Make a biscuit dough with two cupfuls of flour, four teaspoon- fuls of baking powder, half a teaspoon- ful of salt, two tablespoonfuls of short- ening and three-fourths cupful of milk. Roll out the dough to one-fourth ingh in thickness. Spread three-fourths of the cooked cranberries on_this, using as little juice as possible. Roll up into a roll. Place on a pan and steam for half an hour. When done, slice and serve with sauce made- of the cran- berries left over, putting together the Jjuice and cranberries and one table- :g;m;flul of flour, then cooked until ck. Coconut fio!dl‘ Mix four tablespoonfuls nf cornstarch with one-fourth cupful of sugar-and two egg yolks and add three table- spoonfuls of cold milk. Stir iato two cupfuls of scalded milk and cook until thlclklm'd smooth. .;dd tm.’““l\gl‘ cupful of coconut and one teaspoonful of grated lemon rind and remove from the fire. Fold in the stiffly beaten egg whites. Turn into small, cold, wet molds and chill. Turn out and serve with warm or cold chacolate sauce. “Here's hoping you get most of the things you want and enough of the you don’t want, so's you can em’(or'.he rest of the things TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1928, WINTERTIME BY D. C. PEATTIE. I am always going to take up the study of mammology, but because Spring is a good time to study flowers and birds, and Summer ditto, and Au- tumn is about as good as Spring for the same sorts of study, I never quite have time to get around to a subject that, to many people, means all that is worth while in zoology. Indeed, to y ple zoology means only the mammals. The truth is that we have such an impoverished mammal fauna in the District of Columbia, as in most other parts of the Eastern United States, that there is precious little to study. We can boast only 30 mammals, and some of those are so rare that they are not seen except by skillful hunters and trappers. But there is one little furry and four- footed creature that, above all in Win- ter, I delight to study. Indeed, there seems to be no end to what one can learn about cottontails, and if you do not know that a cottontail is a rabbit, this is the tense moment when you make that discovery. Rabbit, however, is a word that fits best the fattened, fecund, fearful species that we raise in hutches and that come to us from Eu- rope. How descriptive, how just, how joyous is the name of cottontail. It epitomizes all we know about him—the whisking of a snowflake tail before he disappears. ©Oh, you may shoot the cottontail or | hunt him with dogs. While it is true that an old, wise dog will sometimes catch a foolish young cottontail, I| never saw an old, wise cottontail who | wasn't smarter than the dogs. And | while a rifle may bring him down dead in the snow, what do you know about him after he is dead—after the fluff of cotton has ceased to bound through the underbrush? Home in Good Taste BY SARA HILAND. ‘There i3 one habit which we home lovers do not seem to be able to break, even should we care to—and that is the habit of buying books. It is a good thing after all, for nothing so enhances the character of a home as books, big ones, little ones, short ones, tall' ones, all help to make our leisure hours more pleasant and at the same time lend themselves to the scheme of decoration. Of course, after the book is purchased, it must be placed somewhere—and not carelessly, either—for if a book is worth having it is worth providing a home for. Some persons like built-in hook shelves, and these can scarcely be im- proved upon, but for those who are unhappy unless they are able to change their rooms about that type is not desirable. ‘Therefore, one or a pair of bookcases like that shown in the illustration would . Holding approximately as many books as one finds on the small buiit-in shelves of the average small home, it has the advantage of being easily moved. Or perhaps you have built-in shelves which are filled “to overflowing” and would like more space for books. If so, nothing would be more in keeping with your room than this simple bookcase finished in walnut or mahogany. It will fit into a living room, sunroom, hall or bedroom with equal grace. Orange Shortcake. Beat two eggs with half a cupful of sugar for five minutes. Sift half a cupful of Futry flour with one tea- I spoonful of baking powder and stir into the egg mixture. Pour into two greased layer-cake tins or a shallow pan, cool, and spread sliced sugared oranges between the layers. Cover with whipped cream or custard. Garnish :hg top with pieces of orange and Team. MENU FOR A DAY. BREAKFAST Hot Apple Sauce Prepared Cereal with Cream Poached Eggs ‘Toast. Coffee LUNCHEON Baked Chicken Livers Green Peas Baking Powder Biscuits Lemon Tarts Tea DINNER ‘Vegetable Soup Baked Beef Loaf, Tomato Sauce Baked Potatoes Creamed Cauliflower Beet Salad Prune Pie Coffee EGG POACHED IN CREAM Put one-half cup cream sauce into shallow baking dish. Open eggs carefully and place on sauce. over boiling water from 10 to 15 minutes, or until eggs are set or as firm as desired. Cover with one-half cup cream sauce, sprinkle with chopped parsley, dust with paprika and serve. CHICKEN LIVERS IN RICE BORDER Into large kettle rapidly boil- ing salted water slowly sprinkle one cup rice. Cover and continue rapid boiling 20 or 25 minutes; drain into colander and stand on dish in oven to dry out for few minutes with oven door open, Clean and separate from 4 to 6 chickens’ livers, sprinkle with salt and pepper, dredge lightly with flour and saute in butter. Make tomato sauce by simmering together for 15 minutes two large cups canned or stewed tomatoes (considerably over a pint), one sliced onion, one clove, two bay leaves, sprig of parsley, two stalks celery or salt- spoon celery salt, and blade of mace; salt and pepper to taste. Rub through fine sieve and melt large tablespoon butter and rub into it similar tablespoon flour, mixing until smooth. Pour slowly into this hot strained to- mato and stir until it boils and thickens. Arrange hot chicken livers on center of platter, put rice around border, and over livers carefully pour tomato sauce. rinkle white rice border thickly with minced green parsley and send to table. BEEF LOAF One pound hamburg steak, one teaspoon salt, one-fourth teaspoon pepper, one cup milk, one egg, small plece butter, two crackers rolled. Mix together, put into buttered pan. Put dress- ing on top made of one cup rolled crackers, one-half cup mil:, one-half cup water, little dressing. dot with little pieces butter. Bake one hour. FEATURES. 33 R Rk kb R L R R R R SR LS S LR st L S Yvonne Ross, unknown to her husband, who is away on a three-month vacation trip, has become a famous dancer on Broad- way, where she is billed simply as Mademoi- selie. " As Richard's wife she has kept his house, cooked his meals and served him in every way, wearing the simple costume she wor when 'he married her three years before in Normandy. She has herself educated se- creily. Under the patronage of Mrs. Ogden she has attended a tea wearing a wix and make-up. annd has overheard Ann Lovelace, an old flame of Richard's, speak of her hus- band writing to Anne. ¥vonne gets a let- ter ficm Richard saying he will return on Thursday. (Continued From Yesterday's Star.) INSTALLMENT XVIIL EDNESDAY morning! 7 “Tomorrow Richard comes Yvonne stared at the ceil- ing. This very day she must make her choi She had refused to discuss her plans with any one. She did not know herself whether Richard would return to an empty home, a famous wife, or to Yvonne, ihe French peasant girl, her life bounded by the four walls of this house. She rose and dressed hastily. Out into the early morning air wita its hint of coming Spring she went, walking swiftly to the church where she heard mass and made her confession. At prayer she would make her decision. She knelt with the few worshipers who had gathered_ putting all her be- ing into a plea for guidance. Rapidly | she thought of her whole lif2, its past | simplicity, its present troubled nights and days. She thought of her old | grandmother, content all her life to be | a good woman. She was happy. Like a great light, the thought came to Yvonne, “As long as I was content to be a good woman, a good wife to Richard, to do my hushand’s work in the world, T was happy. It was only when I began to yearn for something else that problems arose.” ‘When she left the church her (‘holcei was finally and irrevocably made. She returned to the house and spent the morning in a whirlwind of prep- aration. All her new clothes were neatly packed, every reminder of her success as a dancer destroyed, her old peasant dresses restored to the places of honor in her closet. Then she went to the den. To the su prised Lottie she gave the small phono. graph and the records. She carried the chairs and rugs from the other parts of the house back into the den. At the piano she paused in the act of sweeping all her music into the discard. “No. This I will keep. Richard is willing for me to. have this. He has even liked to hear me play.” By noon the only signs of Made- moiselle the dancer were two large new suitcases filled with finery, which stood by the living-room door. “I won't need you after today, Lot- * she told the colored woman, pay- ing her liberally. “Sho am sorry, Mizz Ross,” .otile said. “Been mighty easy working for you. Ever you wants help again just let me know.” Yvonne promised. Just after lunch she left the house, taking with her the two large bags. At the station in New York she checked them both, and then tore up the stubs. There were no marks of identification on any of the clothing they contained. As Yvonne tore up the two stubs and dropped the pieces into a nearby waste basket she felt she had de- | stroyed the last link that bound her new life to the house. There re- | mained the breaking of the links that | united her to the theater. In her dressing room she sorted | ner costumes. Presently there was a knock at the door. “Come,” she called. Drake entered. “You wanted to see me, Madame Ross,” he asked. “Yei. . I lm: lufving tonight, to- night is my last performance.” Drake looked at her aghast. “To- night—tonight—but that is impossible.” “My husband returns tomorrow—my contract provides that I may leave when he returns.” “But, Mrs. Ross,” in his astonish- ment he forgot to say, “madame,” “but, Mrs. Ross, you are a tremend- ous success. “T'll give you twice the salary if you will stay—that and any length contract you want.” Yvonne shook her head. “I am leaving,' she said firmly. “T called you to ask with other things whether tne girls here, any of them, could use my costumes” e ' of course, of course, we'll have to try to substitute one of them for your act. But you mustn't consider leaving us. It's unthinkable. No notice—" He was growing angry. Yvonne came close to him and took his hand in hers. “My friend,” she said simply, “I must leave. I do not wish to leave. I love my work. You have been most kind to me. But I beg you not to make it hard or dif- ficult for me. I am only doing what I must do.” His face softened. “You know best,” he sighed. “But if you ever really want to come back to the stage, will you come to me?” “I promise,” said Yvonne solemnly. As Yvonne stepped onto the stage that evening she felt a great wave of sorrow sweep over her. Poised for her first steps, tears filled her eyes. This was her farewell. Spurred by her re- nunciation, she danced as she had never danced before. There was a tu- mult of applause as she finished. It Full flavored and delicious— Seal Brand Percolator Coffee is specially roasted and ground for use in percolators ONE MAN’ | disturb you BY BARBARA WEBB + (Copyright, 1928, by Public Ledger.) SFRERRRRRRE R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R caught Yvonne's heart and stopped in the wings. She ran back. “Pl play again, my friends,” she cried to the orchestra. They played again for | her. Yvonne was swept into the dance, everything forgotten save that she was bidding good-by to a part of herseif. She repeated each of her three num- bers that evening, and at the close of the last one stumbled from the stage, her eyes wet with tears. Drake was waiting for her. “You must not leave us, “Come, name your price! have wh: only stay. Mrs. Ogden beside him was crying. “Yvonne, Yvonne.” she wept. “You have no right to give up this beautiful thing. Stay here. Let me go to Rich- ard and explain. Don't give up your art. Dom't But. ¥vonne was not Her d lon was made. sadly at them. “Farewell,” she said. And a little later she left the theater for the last time. Thursday morning! Yvonne was not one to repine over the past. In the morning light all the last three months seemed unreal, a dream. She put on a working dress, tied her curls in a big white handker chief, and proceeded to give the house such a cleaning as would have made Lottie's eyes stand wide with surprise. This finished, she turned her attention to her cooking. Richard must have the pastries, the salad, the vegetables he liked best. All afternoon she toiled at the labor she loved. Toward 6 she bathed and dressed in her silk peasant ccsxttuma And then she sat down to wait. Seven passed, and no Richard. Yvonne went to the piano and played for a litt] Eight o%lock and no Richard Yvonne went to the kitchen and cast anxious looks ai the feast thas waitec to_be served. Nine o'clotk. Richard had ngt ar- rived. Yvonne was not anxious about him, but she was heavy-hearted over his delay. She was very tired from her long hard day. Slowly her head dropped and presently she slept, sitting in a low rocker. She woke with a start. It was after 10. Richard was not com- ing then, of this she felt sure. Slowly. too tired and unhappy for tears, she went to her room and fell into a heav: slumber. She wakened early in the morning, Friday. Richard would surely come to- day. She got out of bed and dressed in her working garments and then started toward the stairs. At the top of the stairway stood one of Richard's bags. Yvonne's heart stopped beating. How had it ceme there? ~After a long silent look, sh§ went to the door of his room. She listened, but there was no sound. Softly she opened the door a crack. Yes. Richord had come home. He was sleeping quietly there in his bed. Such bitterness swept over Yvonne as to make her put out her hand and catch the door to save herself from falling. The sound made Richard wake. He turned and stretched in bed and then caught sight of her, standing there frozen in the halfsopened doorway. “Yvonne,” he called. “Yvonne, what it is? Don't look so frightened. I got in late last night and decided not to Come here and kiss your husband, child.” Yvonne went forward listlessly end kissed him. Then she sat on the edgr of the bed while he held her hand and talked cheerfully about his trip. Finally—"Got in last night in plenty of time to make the houce for dinner but I ran into Bob West at Grand Central and nothing wound do but that I go to the club with him for dinner. Got to talking afterward and barely made the train home. Sorry you weren't awake.” Yvonne got to her feet. “I will make breakfast ready, Richard,” she said. “But look here,” Richard protested “You don't seem a bit glad to have me back. Been lonely for you hasn't it?" “No. I have not been lonely. Yvonne sald quietly. “You will be down in half an hour. as usual?” Richard nodded and watched her s she left the room. He was puzzled Talking to Bob West the night before he had half-decided that Bob was right in claiming Yvonne was deeply in love with him, her husband. This morning surely didn't look like it. He bathed and went down to breakfast. Perhaps Yvonne was angry becausr he had not wakened her the night be fore. He would try to make conversa- tion at the table. “Still the same wonderful cook,” he said as he sat down. He could hardly have chosen a more unfortunate opening. Yvonne made an excuse to go to the kitchen. There she got her features under control. But when Richard went up to his laboratory immediately after breakfast her tears had their way. For an hour she lay on her bed, racked and torn by sobs. At last she sat up. Her face hardened in‘o a mold of endurance. She had mad~ her bed. She would lle in it, though it killed her. (To be Continued.) At a recent meeting of the St. Johns Burns Club at Greenock, Scotland, Miss Jean Arthur Burns Brown, great-grand- daughter of Robert Burns, sang two of the poet's favorite songs. he cried You shall ver you want, if you will to be moved She smiled Seal Brand Tea is of the same bigh qualitys