Evening Star Newspaper, January 13, 1929, Page 90

i STRANGER, glancing at them, might have ht they had quarreled. He sat on a couch ) at one end of the room, his arms stretched along its back. sat on & couch at the other end the room, her hands clasped in her ‘They gazed at each other . . . . . . glared. But no, it wasn't glaring! They were eating each other up with their e A ferocious happi- ness sparkled his—they were blue. A lambent wonder glowed in hers— they were hagel. Suddenly and simul- taneously they leaped to their feet and flew into each other’s arms, The truth of the matter was that they Just become engaged. The lady freed herself after a few minutes. “Go back to that couch!” she ordered, in & haughty voice. “I wish to_talk business. But I see that 1 shall have to keep the distance of a room between us. Besides, 1 expect Freddie Marshall.” “Damn_Freddie Marshall!” Stephen remarked, with conviction. “Five min- utes for business!” he permitted. “I'll hold the watch on you, Kathleen."” He moved back io_his couch. She moved back to hers, From every move- ment he made snapped a perceptible, swift vigor. From every movement she made emanated & subtle, languid grace. Between them stretched aToom deli- cately conceived in pastel colors. A huge Chinese rug ipainted a pale blue and gold sheen on ‘the floor. Furniture, French and fragile, dotted this sheen rather too frequently: the frames, i Jaid brown wood: the upholstery, a time-worn pale yellow brocade. Cur- tains, m..J’y' rose, sifted the daylight and gave it glow. At irregular intervals were lights with shades of the same color. Ivorles, crystals, Japanese prints, miniatures, all pallidly toned, frail, an- cient, rare. o Kathleen's persone®ity lay passive as a lily leaf in this mellowed quiet; but Stephen Stowe set up strange, electric currents there. “I don't deserve you, of course” Stephen said. “And I'm sorry for the other fellows! Marshall, now. Mar- !shall's Teally awfully decent, in_spite of his money. How could you, Kath« leen, turn down millions in favor of & poor, starving book publisher?” “The correct remark here” Kathleen 'gaid, “is that money isn't anything. But I don’t believe that, of course. Money's almost everything. I've never had ,enough money at any time in my life. However, when it came to the ques- tion of Freddie Marshall and you—" “When I think what a lucky chap I ‘am——-" he took up histriumphant paean. “You see, & man in my business needs a wife like you. You'll have to enter- itain all kinds of people. Of course, I would have loved you, you being you. 1f you hated people and had no knack with them. But as it is, I'll say I'm lucg&" “Do you think it wise to have social me, T have achieved my first flancee and my first secretary.” “Oh, let me congratulate you!” “Thank you,” Stephen sgid. “Good-night, Mr. Stowe.” * ok k% T}ll next two months were the most rapturous of Stephen Stowe's ex- istence. Outside the office his hwrl— gla.sn was immeasurable and incalcula- e, Every evening found him with her, either in the capacity of escort or for an evening of talk in the lovely rose, yellow and blue room. On Sunday they rode, or drove, or walked, Fre- quently he called at the tea hour. ‘This function did not, however, distill so unalloyed & joy. Some one else always appeared, if only Freddie Marshall. With Freddie he was drawn into long discussions of furnishing and building houses. “Oh, it's such fun!” Kathleen sighed again and again to Stephen; “that giorious sense that there's no limit put on you, Oh, how I do love to spend money!” ‘This did not surprise Stephen. Kath- leen was guite frank about her famous father. Daniel Corey, promoter, was always working on & shoestring. It wasn't 80 bad now, Kathleen had once confided in Stephen, as when she was a girl. Then she would own two auto- mobiles one week and none the next. At the end of one term she would come home from her smart school to a house from which the unpaid servants had fled, and at the end of the next term to the same house glittering with liv- eries and crowded with guests. Kathleen was so busy with Mar- shall’s interests that for a while Stephen said nothing about their plans. A fool- Kathleen was & perpetual delight. | pox. THE_SUND By Inez Haynes Irwin he handed it over for Miss Nevins' ap- proval, “Oh, how beautiful it is!”- she ex- claimed. “I particularly like sapphires.” It lay in her palm, emitting as she turned the stone to the light flashes of velvety hue. “And I like the &l‘:‘unum setting and those square-cut diamonds.” She picked the ring up, poised it at the tip of her own left ring finger. Suddenly she dropped it back into the “I nearly tried it on!" she explained, aghast. “How horrible! 1t was quite instinctive, I assure you, Mr. Stowe, not premeditated.” “Of cours Stephen laughed. “Women always try on each other's rings and hats, don’t they?” * ok k% As the season wore on Kathleen grew thin and _tired-looking, although | she dcclared that she had never felt better. ks that blamed Marshall place that's wearing her out,” Stephen | thought to himself, more than once. He was delighted when it became ap- parent, toward the beginning of March, that her work there was nearing its end. He had held off on the subject of his own plans, knowing that it would exhaust Kathleen to do two jobs at once. Then, one day, an idea struck im. “Miss Nevins, you live downtown, don’t you?" he asked. “Yes." “I wonder whether, if T let you off an afternoon now and then, you'd be willing to look up houses for me? Miss Corey is absorbed at this moment in the decoration of & big place. I thought we could save her time and energy if you would look over the field and find a ish pride made it a little difficult to contrast the two establishments. Inside the office his satisfaction knew no bounds. More than any other per- gon in the establishment, Miss Nevins helped to create Stephen's sense of sat- isfaction. She was a swift worker and an eager one. Her letters were models of accuracy. By imperceptible degrees ghe took over more and more of his work, He found that he liked Miss Nevins a lot as time went on. Of course, he pitied her a little for being only a coarser, deeper colored copy of Kath- lecn. Still, he reflected, just to ap- proximate Kathleen was physical for- tune. Not that Miss Nevins was with- out points of beauty. He liked to see her enter the office, her skin ensan- guined with Winter roses. It was strange that a person who was so vital could become instantly so quiet. So far as Stephen was concerned, her quiet was her best quality. It was as though he were alone and yet com- panioned. That sense in him of her efficient nearness brought out strange impulses. The day he bought Kathleen's ring relations with all kinds of people?” ‘Kathleen asked. “I particularly want social relations,” Stephen replied, 2 “It all sounds interesting enough, Klt-hlee!,l d!tllr!fl.l "I‘vlk ,;l"r:r met ‘many clever people, only rich ones. ‘Which brings me, thanking you humbly for those kind words, to this question: Where am 1 going to do all th taining? Where shall I exercise my well known tact and diplomacy?” “you know you said you'd marry me in June,” Stephen reminded her. “I know I did,” she answered, “and 1 intend to keep my word. In these last three minutes I've been planning the wedding and my wedding % But again, where are we going to live?” A slight shadow dropped over Stephen’s glowing face. “Of course, I can’t do you like this!” ‘The wave of his arm took in the broad, beautiful room. “‘Whoever asked him to, sir, she said,’ ” Kathleen commented. “I had thought,” Stephen said a littlé tentatively, “that perhaps you'd be will- ing to go down town. “Apartments are expensive .there, but_houses are cheap. ‘Would you object to living there?” “No, ~ indeed,” Kathleen answered, “until we're prosperous enough to come uptown again.” There was another embrace and then he said, “T've got to get back to the office. I've an engagement with a girl.” *“So soon?” Kathleen commented. “I'm hiring a secretary.” “When you come to that, I've an en- gagement with & boy friend,” Kathleen ‘warned him. “So soon!” ot Freddie Marshall, ‘The house he's building in the country is almost finished. He asked me if I'd advise him about decorations.” * % % % Smm was scarcely ensconsed at his office desk when the recep- tion clerk appeared. “There's @ lady to see you, Mr. Stowe.” She placed a card on the desk. “Lucille Nevins,” was written in a big, clear hand. and under it, “apply- ing for a position as secretary.” “Send her in!" Stephen ordered. Stephen signed a letter, turned to- ward his visitor—and barely suppressed a start. The girl was a replica of Kath- Jeen. No, not a replica! A variant of her type, strange and coarse. No, not coarse exactly. ' Perhaps if he had never seen Kath- feen he might have thought this girl nable. But now he was conscious of an odd sort of unease and dis- e, & perturbing pity. Superficially the features and colors of the two girls coincided. But where Kathleen showed a skin like satin this girl was colorless, unlustrous. In the place of Kathleen's gleaming, hazel eves appeared, deep-set and far apart, eyes that were too black. The delicate Tose of Kathleen's exquisite mouth was transmuted to & too full crimson: the thin, smooth arches of her eyebrows o biack bows that were too thick. And while Kathleen's bob was brown and clung to her head in waves that seemed materialized shadow, this girl's hair was ebony, lying in shining furrows %00 deeply indented. Everything about her was too pronounced. “Miss Nevins,” Btephen began, “will ou tell me what your experience has en?” Miss Nevins answered his question fully, though concisely. er voice, Stephen thought, was too deep. Yet something from it vibrated in the air after she had ceased talking, and he liked that. “Suppose I test you now,” he sug- gested. She took a mnote book and pencil from her bag. At random Stephen picked a book from his desk and dic- tated half a page. Miss Nevins moved over to the type- writer, busied herself for an interval, stopped. pulled out the paper, and with~ out looking at it handed it to him: Stephen studied it. “There's no doubt of your qualifica- tions,” he commented finally. “But here are some questions I'd like to ask you: Do you like pcople? Are you expert at handling them? You see, this job is—I don't know exactly how to put it—semi-social.” “1 like people,” she stated simply. “They interest me more than anything in the world—more even than books. And Tve dealt with many types of hu-| man beings. My last position was in a broker’s office.” out of her eyes and a silvery sparkle took its place. “That made a man of o Stephen liked that last phrase. prophesy that you'se going to do, Miss Nevins. ‘They discussed terms. “Everything is arranged.” I think." Stephen said, rising. ou report. for work Monday morning?” “Yes, Mr. Slowe.” Suddenly Stephen had a strange im- pulse, “This 18 no way for a prospective, loyer to conclude an examination, T don't know why I tell you this, em) an The golden blaze went | BY DON GLASSMAN. PPLIED to Mfs. Anna Lans. burgh of 2240 Cathedral avenue northwest, Americanization 18 & modern myth, a ghost that never walked. But four years in this country, this 26-year-old Viennese has for two years been engaged in teaching native stock how to be better Americans. This she has done, first, by example; second, by a spontaneous generation of ideas; and third, by giving competent aid, material assistance and wort] patronage. She burst upon the American scene in 1924, all flushed and vivacious over the prospect of seeing the golden land; she had interests here, or rather, charges. Many proteges had been transplanted from the economic deserts of Austria to the fertileness of this hemisphere. Some had flowered where first they became rooted, while others sufféred from transplanting. Just why they were suffering and whether their travail could be allayed—these were purposes of her journey. While she was attending to these affalrs the American swirl engulfed her. Marriage with H. B. Lansburgh of Washingwn followed in 1927; the Viennese “samaritan” em- braced American_citizenship and her physical self was lost to the Old ‘World. Vienna knows her well for her man- agement of war refugees, Half a dozen overnments have voiced recognition of er work in rehabilitation and repatria- tion. At the outbreak of hostilities, Vienna awoke suddenly to strange news that a 13-year-old “wonder” girl, Fraulein Anma Lorbeerbaum, had taken chal of war-stranded foreigners in the Austrian capital. She engineercd their free transporta- tion out of the war zone by appealing to steamship officials and attaches of the Italian government. This done, she turned to teaching refugee children, to performing volunteer nurse work, to completing her education in _English, German, French, Spanish, Italian and Arabic, all of which she speaks and jwrites, Where service and assistance . were required she was to be found. She managed and maintained a refu- | gee headquarters, which was distinct from all other agencles engaged In sim- flar work. There she met and discussed. She never appealed for funds, and yet never contributed frem her personal | fortune. How did tbe money come? Ah, that involves her sister, Fraulein Marie, who at the age of 9 studied the stock market and made enough money | thereby to run a business of life-saving | and rehabilitation on a grand scale, | Thus two children. advised and in- |spired by their paren! performed human scrvice that brought encomiums 5 of many nations. vor Austria volced ! of Anna Lorhoel | refuge comeq her newest undertaking of ver suading foreign governments to provide for the return of allens still living in Austria, Police headquatters of the City of Vienna acknowlzdged her work and in- half-dogen houses that might appeal to her?” “I'd be delighted to do it” Miss Nevins replied. very fascinating.” Miss Nevins devoted that afternoon and a second and a third to this er- rand. On a Saturday she telephoned im. “I've found something that seems to me highly desirable, Mr. 8towe. Oh, it's simply—it’s so good that, if you wish, T'll get the refusal for it over Sunday.” “Do that!” Stephen ordered imme- diately. “I tell you what I'll do, Miss Nevins. T'll go tomorrow morning and look at it, and, if it’'s what I think we want, I'll bring Miss Corey there in the afternoon. I don’t want to bother her The ministry of communications ad- mitted it was through her efforts that refugees returning home were granted a 50 per cent reduction in rail fa; The government of Czechoslovakia recognized her service in obtalning pass- rts for refugees to Egypt, Syria and lestine, in furthering the movement of “children to the country” and in providing for youths during their voca- tional tralning period. ‘The United States mission to Austria inquired whether it could be of service to her in rehabilitating war sufferers. The Vienna office of the United States Communication Service allowed her use of telegraph and radio system for sending and recelving messages. The British military mission issued a long encomium. It told how the young humanitarian had spent a fortune in helping Jew and Gentile to food and habitation, and how glad the English- men were to aid her with supplies and motor transport wheneveér she applied for them. * ok ok ok BY the end of the war Austria’s little Samatitan was 17 years old. She had already interviewed ministers, am- bassadors and governors. But now, with censorship abolished, the whole world was her theater. Seeing over- whelming numbers of war sufferers homeless and without work, she evolved a plan of colonization. No minister of foreign affairs ever was more ambitious in carrying out a program. Under her own name and seal she sent out letters to every government in the world, written in the language of each respective country and conforming with variations in epistolary etiquette. “I appealed to them,” she said. “I told of the harrowing life of a refugee. Here in Austria were skilled workmen, artisans, mechanics and tradespeople. There was not enoueh work for al Familles suffered, children starved. But other countrie: need of tal- ented workmen who could increase the national prosperity. “Where the country is a republic I addressed the letter to the President; where & monarchy I addressed it to the King; where & colony I addressed it to the governor; in America I sent letters to governors of every State in the Union.” ‘What came out of this appeal sur- leiter writer. Practically every gov- ernment in the world sent answers. Prime mindsters, Kings and Presidents wrole under royal seals and in their own handwrlting. Particularly the small nations were deeply interested, and asked for more information on the tercessions on behalf of stranded for- eigners. Police officers in another let- ter expressed thanks for her assistance Mise Nevins. Perhaps because I'm g0 ’hqmy. But this is a special day for'in relief work. prospective settlers, Large vern- ments replied with curt dignity. But for some small commonwealths the ap- peal from Vienna was ah event | +I find house-hunting ( o7 prised Austrian officials, as well as the | He Saw Smooth Sailing Ahead on Matrimony’s Sea. with a trip that might be useless. ‘Who's the agent?” Miss Nevins started to tell him, “I wonder,” Stephen interrupted, “if you'd go with me tomorrow? I'd like awfully to see it first with a woman who understands such things.” “I'll be very glad indeed to do that,” Miss Nevins answered. The next morning a taxi took them to & quiet neighborhood in a quaint old section of the city. The street was lined with houses of old red brick, shut- tered in green; !te{)s and yard railings were of a gracefully figured iron, Sunday ealm lay upon everything. The air was gracious, the sky amiable. The sun was painting the entire scene with faint gold. They stopped at a house midway in a block between two churches. Miss Nevins said eagerly, “Will you let me show the house to you in the order I prefer?” “Do,” Stephen entreated. She took him downstairs first. What at the back had been the ample old kitchen was now the dining room. Here the generous old fireplace partic- ularly engaged Stephen. ut his gaze had acquired a curiously remote ex- pression, as though he were contem- plating something in his own mind. He droppea remarks, at once absent and thrilled: “What a bully fireplace! . And the paneling in the doors! W I'm glad they've done so little o it He followed Miss Nevins upstairs. She took him into the front room, high- ceilinged, with two maible mantels and a beautiful cornice. “Curfous how stately it is,” Stephen commented, “empty like this!” Still his gaze stayed, as though he were watching the pageant with which his imagination peopled the quiet spaces. Miss Nevins preceded him to the room at the back. It stretched the en- tire lwldth of the house, the back wall 1 “Oh!” Stephen exclaimed. He was gazing on & garden filled with trees. Looking up, he saw that their top branches criss-crossed, a web so thick that it concealed the houses. opposite, CQagzing down, he saw three fountains playing. “What is this place?” he asked. “The Randolph Gardens,” Miss Nev- ins answered. “It's bullt on what used to be the Randolph estate. You see, some enterprising genius bought all the houses between the two churches, remodeled them and threw the yards together. Do you like it?” she asked with eagerness. “I think it's most attractive.” “Oh, I'm glad. 'That's exactly the way I feel. Ever since I saw it yester- day, I've been thinking how I'd fur- nish it.” “How would you furnish it?” Stephen asked idly. Miss Nevins hesitated. “Rather THE DAY HE BOUGHT KATH- LEEN'S RING HE HANDED IT OVER FOR MISS NEVINS' AP- PROVAL . . . SHE PICKED THE RING UP, POISED IT AT THE TIP OF HER OWN LEFT RI FINGER. < “I COULDN'T POSSIBLY LIVE THERE! OF COURSE, THE HOUSE ITSELF IS RATHER NICE BUT YOU PAY TOO HIGH IN CONTACTS . .. sparsely, I'm afrald. I don't like things very much. And I have a theory that you ought to have altogether different decorations for Summer and Winter. If this were my house, I'd paper this roomh in & plain cream. And I'd hang no pictures. For, just as soon as the Spring comes, the shadows of the leaves will cover the celling and the walls. As the wind blows, those shadow-shapes will change constantly. “I'd furnish this room with as few things as possible. I'd have chintz covers for the furniture, with a green note in it—long, glossy, spiky leaves. I suppose I'd have some glass about, because it catches and holds the light. But mainly I think I'd let the tree- shadows_own the place.” “Oh, I say,” Stephen exclaimed, as though with a mounting appreciation, “that frieze of leaf-shadows changin, all the time is simply great. Now tefi me what you'd do in the Winter.” “And then, when the Winter came, I'd cover everything with a chintz of a lovely geranium pink-red that I've seen recently. I'd always have a log- fire in the fireplace. And then I'd have brass and cupier about, warm shining 1!:‘1“‘9" that the firelight would glow hhephen laughed. “I accuse you of “This isn't the best aspect,” he sald logetically. “We need scarcely see at all. It's the garden that’s the wonder.” { He took the key from Miss Nevins and unlocked the door, ushered the two women in. “Oh, what & duck of a place!” Kath- leen comment “How quaint! What a dear, dear litile house!” vnconaclmux he followed the trail that Miss Nevins had blaged; he took her into the basement first. “Oh,” Kathleen cooed. “Such a charming, sunny little dining room. Let me bee, one could have a dinner party of—certainly not more than eight. Ah, that's the garden! How nice! How very, very nice! I suppose all these families have children and they all rlny in the garden together. Perhaps the trees would smother the nolse somewhat.” ‘They went upstairs to the drawing room floor., “Nice,” Kathleen kept commenting. could get quite charming effects with this place—little effects, of course. The garden is really quite lovely from above. In the Summer you'd feel that you were living in the trees. But, of course, I wouldn't be here in the Sum- choosing the colors that would be most | pep, becoming to you. You know you couidn't find anything better than that rich or that vivid geranium.” Miss Nevins laughed absently. “We could put our books at the ends of these rooms,” Stephen suggested. “Yes, that would be a good place for them. Now come upstairs.” The next floor was a palr of big bedrooms, & front-hall bedroom and a bathroom. Above all was a low-studded story, four small rooms and a big hall. front-room windows were barred, ‘Why, this would be our nursery.” He turned his eager eyes to hers. For the first time, he saw Miss Nevins blush. Colorless? She wasn't colorless! 1t was_only that her flesh was so snowy. It was as white as elain, as smooth and fine; her lush stained it as though an unseen hand had swiftly smeared it with scar- let. How immense her eyes! What blackness in her hair! For a second she was beautiful! EE IN the afternoon they showed Kathleen the house. They, because Kathleen had asked that Miss Nevins be so good as to come along. Alighting from the cab, Kathleen swept the street with her swift gaze. Stephen became suddenly conscious of the drug store on the corner, of an ash barrel in front of the next house, of a group of children in the distance. “I would,” Stephen announced. “Alas, poor darling!” Kathleen laughed, “you would be!" “'ve had a delightful afternoon,” Kathleen said latet, when they were leaving the house. “Charming! And how lovely you've been about all this! I can't be too grateful. But, of course, the place is quite out of the question!” “Out of the question!” Stephen re- peated mechanically. “I couldn't possibly live there! Fancy living on a street with a store in the foreground and a row o ash cans! Of course, house itself is raiher nice. It lends itself. awfully to play with it. But you pay too high in contacts. And I'd hate to see people want to know, walking in that garden.” ‘They said good-bye to Miss Nevins and turned in the direction of Kath- leen's home. Stephen was consclous of & faint chill. “We'll have to find a place uptown.” “I'm afraid,” Stephen actually fal- tered, “I'm afraid I couldn't afford a house uptown for a while." “Of course, you couldn't. We'll get an apartment that will be practically as good as a house,” Kathleen went on. handsome creature, isn't she?” “Do you think so0?" “Oh, by the way, did you notice a slight resemblance between us? I had “Very nice, indeed. One | T4 like | ¥ 1 didn’t know and wouldn't | 5 “That secretary of yours is rather a|him w———NMY e ———— a feeling that I was looking at a char- coal drawing of myself.” “Yes, I remember I did notice a re- semblance, at first.” But somehow Kathleen's simile seem- ed wrong. He would rather have said that Miss Nevins was a rendition in robust ofls of Kathleen's water-color ts. “Well, T'I1 just t Miss Nevins to work looking for other places,” Stephen decided, after a short pause. “It will, as you say, have to be an apartment. However, an apartment will make things very simple for us.” “Yes. By the way, Freddie's place is almost finished. He wants us to lunch there next Sunday. Luncheon, so that you can see everything, including the grounds, by daylight. I told him we'd come. “All right,” Stephen agreed. E was conscious of a faint distaste for the expedition. Somehow, Ste- phen had no desire to see Marshall's combination of spaciousness and opu- lence. Before he went to sleep that night he traversed in imagination every room of the little house. Suddenly he found that even in imagination he was not alone there. “I'd rather live in that house,” he thought, as he awoke in the morning, “than any place I've ever seen in my life.” “Don't bother that Miss Nevins to look for apartments for us” Kathleen said, the next time they met. “I'll start doing it myself this very week.” But she did not have time that week, #s it happened. There were still some last decisions to be made in regard to the Marshall house. “There are some things, Freddle,” Kathleen declared once, “that simply must be left till you can go yourself to Spain or send somebody there.” “I can’t go,” Freddie declared, “but I can send somebody. Why can’t I send ou?” “Oh, I'd love it!” Kathleen declared impulsively. “I'd simply love it!" “But we'te going to be married this une!” Stephen thrust in swiftly. “Well, we might put the wedding off till fall,” Kathleen declared. “Or we m\sht 80 to Spain on our honeymoon and get Freddie’s things then.” Somehow, the thought of Kathleen devoting their honeymoon to ‘;lcklns up bargains for Freddie Marshall faile to allure Stephen. But he made no fur- ther comment. Their trip to see Mar- lhllkl'l house was delayed from week to week. In the meantime, Miss Nevins had never mentioned the little house to i ad never mentioned it again to her. Indeed, they rarely talked now. Every day Stephen asked Kathleen if she had looked for an apartment. Each MRS. ANNA LANSBURGIL (Photograph by Clinedinst Studio.) eign office sat in privy council. The reply from Mahmood Beg Tar- zee, minister of forc'gn affairs of Af- ghanistan, is in point: b me: “Your letter has been recelved by the foreign office of Afghanistan. You have intimated therein with regard to refu- gees in Vienna, that owing to lack o diplomatic history, and the whole for- | residence and food and continuance of warfare now, their maintenance in Vienna is held impossible and you re- quest that his majesty the King (Ameer) of Afghanistan might agree to allow a certain number of them to shift in Afghanistan; and that all such in- dividuals bold the avocations of art, manufacture and industry, so that they kingdom, f | would not beé a burden on his Mrs. Anna Lnnsburgh, American Resident for Last Four Years, Known to Gov- ernments of World for Management of War Refugees—Expert in Rehabilitation and Repatriation—Letters From Royalty. “We came to understand that the mnmmem of Afghanistan had already allowing the essentials of friend- ship and regard to the high govern- ment of Austria, so that she has dur- and warm reception to all. “Taking this view, Afghanistan for the present, owing to the laws of civili- zation and cause of humanity, can manage to receive 50 such like persons, that may belong to such a class of pro- fession and business as can be of avail and benefit to such newly flourished dominions which are adopting the high- ways of progress. “His majesty the King of Afghanis- tan always looks with a sympathetic eye and equality to the present atti- tude of Austria, but even toward the universe of humanity, moresoever re- newing .m}' respectabilities, I am, In another letter his majesty wrote that “Afghanistan takes no pains about the colonists’ religion. They can be of any religion whatsoever, but they must be men of arts. In this way they can conveniently subsist in Afghanistan.” In her work with refugeés and war sufferers, Mrs. Lansburgh recelved aid from @ large number of persons repre- senting governments engaged in reha- bilitatlon. Unusual assistance was re- ! ccived from Signor Antonio Mosconi, | Comdr. Adolfo Perilli, inspector general of the Italian minister of the interior; Giuli Ucelli, officcr of the Lloyd Triestino Steamship Lines; Comdr. Pletro de Filippis, Director Unken of the Cosulich Steamship Lines, Frank- furter Hofrat, steamship agent; Sir C. K. Butler and 8ir Ralph guntr, Eng- lishmen, and Frank Brosh. o Our family,” Mrs. Lansburgh said, ‘I8 organized for service. My father is the scholar,’my mother is minister of the interior, my sister is secretary of the treasury. and I am minister of soclology.” * ok kR SHE is a direct descendant of one of the 12 tribes that sprang from Abraham. On her mother’s side is the . great family of Wahl. In the sixteenth century one of her ancestors was acting | King of Poland for a short time follow- ing the death of the hereditary mon- arch. Mrs, Lansburgh's great-grand- father was famed as a medico and was called by the Sultan of Turkey to be- come Pasha of Palestine. Mrs. Lansburgh herself was born in gues the Holy Land on soil given her family | Energy, stres by the Sultan., The property still is ln'-mu‘l};-l hes their hands. The Lorbeerbaum family i8 unique in another respect. Property in Austria, senator of the King, in Trieste, Italy: | Woman Who Was Samaritan of War Is Living Here and Palestine insures a steady income which can be used by the head of the house solely as an en- dowment fund for classical scholarship. Thus, the condition on which this in- come is derived is that it should not be appropriated to any cause other than study and research in metaphysical thought. Since the age of three, her father has performed no work other than that which furthers the ideal pur- suit of knowledge. He has studied the Talmud and writings of the prophets at length and has delved into all man- ner of lo:onl:m. So when Miss Lorbeerbaum and her mother came to America in 1924, immi- gration inspectors were much surprised when they asked how much money she had and she showed & bulging purse.’ “Immigrants,” said the inspectors, “don't come to America with money. ‘They mean to take it away.” But with the Austrian Samaritan it was differ- ent. She meant to bring something to America besides her money. Americanized almost to the extent that natives are, She understood liberty and desired it. She was in sympathy with American customs. She knew all about them before landing. The Amer- ican language was not much different from the English she had learned. Be- sides. she had known many Americans in Vienna. Casting about on the American scene, she saw that each State had a manner, swagger and impress that are distinc- tive. Massachusetts, Virginia and Mis- sissippl are connotive words. There are Texas dishes, Alabama melodies and New York coiffures. States are noted for certain industries, customs and products. “How could one State learn what the rest of the country was dol‘fn‘?” Miss Lorbeerbaum asked her- self. ‘The best method of effecting closer unity among States would be by having a national exposition in the Capital. Forthwith the plan wes enthusiastically indorsed by Washington leaders as well as_Congressmen. Interest in the plan will probably be revived in connection with the 200th anniversary celebration of the birth of George Washington to be held in Washington in 1932. Mrs. Lansburgh has also begun or- ganizing a series of young people's groups to be modeled after the “Jugend- groupe” of Vienna. ‘“Their aim,” she said, “is to awaken understanding be- tween parents and children.” Free from financial cares, she has en- listed a mighty vehemence In carrying out her ideas. Whom she addresses, his attention she commands. Her manner breathes opulent culture. Her son- tences are thoughtful and sufficlently eloguent to arouse interest at American gatherings she addresses. cause she gives so much and takes so little she is unusual. One wonders how siie found time to complete a uni- versity course and simultaneously en- o - | ga gage in half a dosen other major ativ- | viiks'of two or three eges and folde ties. The study of Latin and Arabic is a lifetime pursuit for many, but she was grounded in five or six additional ton before reaching her twenties. h and vivacity are her u& What she does is traditional in family from which she_springs. “T'm paying my debt,” she seys. She was | | in hand with duck, or, better s e I'D LIKE AWFULLY TO PLAY WITH IT. day she admitted she had not found the_time. “If that blooming Spanish sky- scraper ever gets finished——" Stepl found himself thinking, again and again. However, ultimately the Sunday came on which he and Kathleen made the trip to see the new house. It was beautiful, appallingly beauti- ful, and much bigger even than Stephen had imagined it. Everywhere Kath- leen’s taste had produced its sure magic. It was late in the afternoon when Marshall set them down at Kathleen's house. Kathleen sank at once on the couch. “Bring a chair over, Step,” she pleaded faintly. Stephen obeyed; seated himself be- side her. He did not speak, giving her the rest she needed. Suddenly he was consclous of shock. The lamps were not lighted. There was only the twilight to rescue Kathleen's face from dusk. It seemed to change, to recede. It had become a crystal disk. And, looking through it, he saw Miss Nevin's face, eyes like dark moons, mobile lips warme 1y erimsen . . . “Kathleen!"” Stephen exclaimed, as one calling for help. “Kathleen, will you look for our apartment next week?” Kathleen said, a little languidly, “I'm really. too tired.” “Why can't I do the preliminary :mrk?" he asked, in a slightly formal lone. “No. No, I don't think I'd do anything about it yet, if I were you, Step, dear. Besides I've come to the conclusion that it's an enormous mistake for us to be married as soon as June. I really think we'd be wiser to put the marriage off until youre making a little more money.” Stephen studied her hard. “That might be quite & long time, Kathleen,” he said, in a strange voice. “It might " he paused again, “five years!” “Well, I think five years would be better, Kathleen said languidly, i to go into some squalid little hole. You know, I've discovered one thing about myself. I have to have space. I can't live all huddled up with le.” “I see. It was Marshall's house that taught you that about yourself. Kath- leen, would it relieve your mind if I suggested that we break our mfla- ment? You really want to marry Mar-, shall, don't you?” “Well, frankly, Stephen,” Kathleen answered, in a faint voice, “I think it would be more suitable.” “I think so, too.” Stephen arose. “But, Step, dear, I want you to know —I want you to realize—if I can ex- plain—" “I don't want any explanations,” Stephen said. with a brief laugh. Slowly Kathleen drew off his ring. Late that night, after he walked for | hours, he turned into a drug store, went } to tha telephone booth, got Miss Nevins srtment. “This is Stephen Stowe,” he sald. “Oh, yes, Mr. Stowe!” “Miss Nevins, Miss Corey has just broken our engagement.” “Oh. Mr. Stowe!” The voice was ocked, aghast. “I'm sorry!" . Nevins, is that house stin “Yes, the agent called me up yester- day to ask me if I couldn't make you it “Will you call him up tomorrow and tell him I'll take it?” “‘Oh, yes! Yes, indeed!” The voice had come up to joy. “I'm so glad you're going to have it, after all.” *‘Miss Nevins, will you go out to din- ner with me tomorrow night?” “T—I——" Then, with her simplicity, “Yes, Mr. Stowe.” “I want to talk things over with you. I'm going to tell you something.” He paused. “Perhaps you know what it is? Do you know what it is, Lucile?” On her part a pause, a long, long pause. Then a faintly breathed, “Yes, Stephen.” (Copyright, 192 Winter Vegetables. INTER vegetables, built on sturdier lines and for sturdier appetites then Spring greenery, often fail to be included in clegant menus and company dinners. But housekeepers who do their own work, and who therefoje favor one- plate dinners, and who are interested in menu economies, appreciate the sub- stantial qualities and satisfying flavors of pumpkin, squash, eggplant, cabbage and parsnips. Pumpkin is, perhaps, the least used of all the Winter vegetables, except in pie. As a main dish for dinner on January nights there is nothing much more satisfying than a casserole of pumpkin tucked under a layer of fresh pork sausage, baked in the oven until brown and crisp on top and juicy and succulent underneath. ‘The pungent flavor of the mashed pumokin is a worthy companion to the rich spiciness of the sausage. ‘There are interesting variations on this dish. The pumpkin may be spiced a bit with cinnamon and fluffed up with beaten egg yolks or whites, or both. It may be enriched by grated yellow cheese or chopped nuts, and just under the layer of sausage you might like to place very thin rings of unpared red apples, The same good things can be said about similar combinations which call for turnip instead of pumpkin. Yellow turnip, we mean, not white—curnips which have been left in the ground to be ripened fully by first frosts. Mashed turnips, almost the exception among the hardy vegetables, is ever given wel- core at fancy dinners if it ccm"lt hlfl;‘i wit] some kind of game. And no one should venture to speak slightinely of this laison. But let us recommend as better still the scraps of left-over duck or hredded finely, mixed witn the Jightly into two cups of left-over turnip 5 be baked slowly in a casserole unti hot and juicy clear through. RS A mortgage for $1.000,000 has been ?;a;:d ;:; m.nnr;“s College, Villanova, y & new building to take of one destroyed by fire. o