Evening Star Newspaper, June 3, 1930, Page 21

‘ ¥ 1 fl RC Sherriff and Yernon Bartlett ‘«vfi- COPYAIOHT 1930 Bv FREDERICK A STONES COMPANY. “I know, sir. But—I thought per- haps—nobody else would suffer if I was | ted-——" " He stopped. “I'm afraid I must treat every one exactly alike. I can't make exceptions, | just because you happen to be a nephew | —you see what I mean?” “Quite, sir.” The general held out his hand and smiled. “Well, good night. I expect you're sleepy.” “Yes, sir.” “Did those crocuses come to any- thing?" “No, sir, not much.” “1 told your father he set ‘em too deep. Well, good night. Had some supper?” “Yes, sir.” Right.” He nodded and smiled to Raleigh as he relit his pipe. It was on the following afternoon that a note arrived for Raleigh. It said that he was to proceed by the 8 o'clock train next morning from “B” siding to Join his battalion—the battalion he had so carefully told his uncle of the pre- *vious night. Dennis’ battalion. He read the roughly printed form with its scrawled, inked-in particulars again and again. A sudden desire came to go to Uncle Vincent's office and Kkiss the old fellow. He kicked himself for being ridiculous, and went into the mess for tea. O billet. Although it was not yet the end of March, there was & Spriinglike feeling in the air that *ame in through the open window, anu the old man who owned the cottage drove his spade easily into the damp earth. Osborne envied the old French- man, despite his bent back and gnarled hands and arms. His face was the color of sun-baked soll. For him the war, rumbling away day and night to the East, was no more to be feared than Summer thunder. Occasionally a bomb had dropped in a neighboring field, and one of his cows had been killed by a clumsy recruit from England during bombing practice. But the thunder that muttered and growled on Summer evenings might at any time lead to a storm which would flatten out his corn or destroy his hay, while the most direct effect of the war was the constant stream of British soldiers with their odd ways and their welcome readiness to buy fruit, milk, wine or beer at rices which made the old man shake head with awe. Osborne, watching him at his steadw pltle'nt ‘work, thought lonzlnzly of his rden at home. Already the bulbs wou\ be coming up, and the lilac bush near the gate to the playing fields ‘would be in bud. The little devils would still scramble up the wall to tear down twigs and branches. He was a man of even temper—exceptionally so, even for a schoolmaster—but this blind, stupid destruction of growing things had always made him angry. And yet, as long as Broomhill School existed—it might not be very long, since Temple- ton, who had taken the place over, was not doing very well, and in any case the future of private schools had be- come so uncertain during the war—but as long as Broomhill existed, little scamps would climb on each other's shoulders to tear down the lilac that hung over the playground wall. Sometimes, early in.the morning be- fore the thin birdlike chatter began from the dormitories, Osborne, crossing the playground on his way back from the boys’ swimming pool, d s to look at that little tree, with its rich purple blossom drooping down against the white wall of the playground. It was one of those pictures which, for no explicable reason, remained always clear and fresh in his memory. The destruction of beauty struck him as more lamentable now than it had done before August, 1914; but he no longer had it i him to grow angry with thoughtless, small boys who broke off twigs of scented lilac—how could one reproach them in face of this immense and organized destruction of war? In- deed, as he thought of the youngsters who had been placed at one time or another under his control at Broomhill, & faint smile lifted the corners of Osborne’s mouth. To be headmaster of a smallish private school had not been his ambition when he had come down from Oxford, but the existence CHAPTER XI. SBORNE glanced at his watch, gave a little sigh, and took & Iast look at the garden of his | of a delicate, widowed mother and an unmarried sister had made him hesitate | before those risks which might have made of him a figure in the world, but which might, equally, have prevented him from contributing so large a share | to the expenses of his mother’s small | household. Then had come his own | marriage to counsel prudence. But the | school had been good fun; and very well worth while. In the garden the old French peasant continued his steady digging. A thrush hopped about boldly almost at his feet, convinced that all this earth was being turned up solely for its own benefit. ‘With another little sigh, Osborne strap- 'k and went out into the '“1‘:;“ stree! the next billet, s half-ruined estaminet which, despite its discomfort, was the most sought-after billet for miles around because Angele lived there, Hibbert, Trotter, the medical officer, and two subalterns over from a neigh- borning battalion, sat playing vingt-et- un. Three empty bottles of sweet champagne stood on a chair near the table. Nobody liked the stuff, but it had become almost a tradition to drink “bubbly” before they went up the line to the trenches again. The room was bare, and not very clean, for Angele end her mother knew that the billet was popular, whatever the quantity of dirt in it, and they spent much time, that might have been devoted to sweep- ng or scouring, at the knitting machine they had bought just before the war. Angele’s mother was a timid little woman, who might have been expected to flee westward when the first shell | bad landed in the village: even the destruction of the kitchen by a 4.5 had not driven her away from the knitting machine, for the purchase of which she had scraped and saved so long. So she knitted away feverishly, and worried little about Angele and her failure to| keep the place clean. Besides, the big room was used as the company officers’ mess, and she could always blame the batmen if there were complaints. A few fly-blown advertisements of byrrh, vermouth and beer hung round the walls. One of them had been turned face to the wall, and the back of ‘the cheap frame was used for col pany orders. Hibbert, supported half- heartedly by Trotter, had stuck draw- ings from La Vie Parisienne over others. On the table in the corner was an untidy pile of kit—trench coats, puttees, mufflers and cardigan jackets. The stove in the middle of the room was red hot on top, and a couple of pairs of boots steamed in front of it. There was, as the medical officer put it, “a Nell of a fug.” and he made it worse by puffing away steadily at a peculiarly foul pipe. Trotter's red, round face shone with excitement, for his luck was in, and he had quite a pile of matches, each representing a franc, in front of him. Later, when the matches were convert- ed into money, he would feel slightly guilty, for, much as he liked winning money, he was reluctant to take it from his friends. Besides, as the only officer in the company who had risen from the ranks, he had a slight sense of in- feriority which made it awkward for | him to beat men who instinctively put their aitches in their right places. But for the moment he felt only triumph, and he drank his champagne with the boastful and greedy gesture of a , ‘'Tobert,” he said, as he swept another little plle of matches across the table toward him. Hibbert was a bad loser. There were two hectic patches of red on his usually pale cheeks, and he nervously twisted his small yellow mustache. “Never saw such bloody luck,” he growled, as though he believed that in some way Trotter was not playing fairly. “I've had enough of this.” For well over an hour the excitement of gambling had made him forget that they were going into the line again. Now even gambling had let him down, and he pushed back his chair angrily. He paid up his debts grudgingly, and went into the next room. As luck would have it, Angele was alone at the knitting machine. She did not hear him come in, so he tiptoed llp to her and stood behind her. The pale March sun shone on her neck, and the imminence of his departure for the trenches gave him a desperate courage. Hitherto he had dared do no more than brush his hand, as it were accidentally, against hers when he passed her in the passage. Now he bent down, slipped his arm round her waist, and kissed her just behind her ear. Angele wrenched herself out of his grasp and was on her feet in a second. “Espece d'insolent!” she panted. “How dare you?” Then she softened a little, for there was something rather appealingly weak about Hibbert. “You had no right to do that, and if you try again, I shall tell the captain.” “But, mademoiselle, we shall be off in half an hour to the trenches. You might be nice to me a bit.” The appeal, dictated by his own fears Cl!y Upholstermg Co. on Upholstering NII % nld f\ltnllul’l like new Refinishi Slip_ Covers 2106 18th St. N.W. Dee. 2668 THE COLLIER INN Columbia Rd. at 18th St. N.W. 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STAR, H!mudwshlkehmdsmher!n a friendly way; she had been frank and decent, and it would be nice to leave her with the feeling that he had “played the game.” But her bare arms were so damnably attractive and the tines of her body so provokingly allur- ing. Before she could guess his inten- tions ke had his arms round her and was kissing her violently. “Ah! Zut, alors! ca c'est trop fort!” peingele struggled umg she hng‘ one B . and free, and then she gave him a “All right,” she said; “we'll forget | resounding slap on the face. At the about it. But ;-u mustn't begin again.” | same moment Trotter opened the door. And she heid out her hand. He stood there, chuckling with laughter Hibbert stood motionless for a moment | 8t Hibbert’s confusion. while a struggle proceeded inside him.| “Sorry,’ he spluttered. “I didn’t know The Fashion of White Gloves Grows Apace With the growing importance of ‘white accessories . . . white gloves have come into their own. And, with the fashion importance of cottons . . white Cotton gloves take a place in the smart wardrobe. These four are essential in every smart wardrobe— White one-button doeskin gloves .$3.50 The same model, hand-sewn ‘White fabric pull-on gloves . . . smart to wear with all :onnn frocks and sports clothes eral wear ...... ‘White twelve-button noon and for evening wear ..... GLoves, Aiste 11, Fist FLoOR. o for hm-l after- .50 Four “Best Sellers” in Silk Hose $|.35 pair No. wonder they are “hits” . . . these fine quality silk hose . . . for each is a value at this low price and, best of all, each is a regular value here. Three of the styles are found here exclusively. $1:35 Will Buy Any of These Four Fine Hose Granite Semi-Sheer Silk Hose, $1.35 With the exclusive garter block that prevents runs; lisle hem and sole; white and Summer shades. Granite Semi-Sheer Silk Hose, $1.35 With lisle-lined hem and lisle sole and the famous Granite garter block that prevents runs. Chiffon Silk Hose, $1.35 A fine weaving chiffon of gossamer sheerness with double silk French heel and picot-edge silk hem. @#D Silk Hose (exclusive), $1.35 Even, semi-sheer weave, with graceful pointed heel, lisle hem and sole; Summer shades and white. Hosrery, Arsie 19, First FLOOR. Every hat is a smart Millinery Salon late Spring RAN ror constPation 91980, Q. 7. Owp.. MILLINERY SALON, THIRD FLOOR. WASHINGTON, Salon Models = D. C, TUESDAY, 'wo were ‘aving parlor games.” w"“nm you, Trotter,” said Hibbert. “Damn and blast you “'Ere, steady on, young man. try. blasting me. I didn't slap your m! but I don’t mind klcklng your be’ind if mamzelle wants me to.” Then his fll humor disappeared, as it always did within a second or two, and he continued in a normal tone: “Time to Better get your kit on. Just came in to tell yer.” He turned to| Angele. “Good-by, mamzelle,” he said. “See you again soon. Don't let nobody else gen ‘old of that bed of mine. Bring | you back a Boche ‘elmet if you don't. Au revoir!” Angele, still flushed and angry, shook Don't parade. Are An usually . . . in ‘White Ha panama . White Shoes . . . of brown or black trimming White Glowes . . . popular sports model JUN of felt, E 3, 1930. hands with Trotter, who left the room struggling to do up his tunic buttons over his large stomach. Hibbert slunk sullenly toward the door. “good-by' mademoiselle,” he mut- ‘Good-by, Monsieur I'Officter,” she replied in a cold, flat voice. She stood for a long time in front of her knitting machine, and looked out of the window to where the men, laden with nacks, ammunition, stores, spades, firewood and sacks of bread, were lining up in the village street. Many of them she knew Lty sight. for the battalion had come back a_dozen times to rest in her village. One or two of them, seeing her standing near Accessories other Story . . . and also a part of this fashion for dead white . . . only they accent color contrast to the colorful costumes with which they are worn. rough straws, fabric end $5 to $15 ‘White Bags . . . of kid, fabric, such as shantung, $2.95 kid, linen or buck . .. with $12.50 one-button doeskin gloves, s $3.50 White Jewelry, chokers and necklaces of ivory, orystal and pearls... Blousettes ason of ingerie touche vienen .81 to $10 . @ most fashionable accessory $1.95 Accessories, FIRsT AND THIRD FLOORS. ere $15 $22.50 $7.50 model . . . many imports and copies of imports. Bakus and other fine straws included. Black and colors. Spring Models B—§ his face; he was so liked by his men that he came nearer to her conception of a hero than anybody eise, except Jules Denain, who might have. become engaged to her had he not beer swept away to serve in the French army in Lorraine, Besides, the Englishman had been out so long—so long indeed that the odds against his return seemed to be’ heavier e each time he went to the trenches. “Le malheureux,” muttered Angele to herself, and she went back without enthusiasm to her knitting machine. As for Stanhope, the smile died out of his face as soon as he had passed the window, and it gave way to a cer- (Continued in Tomorrow's Star.) the-window, waved their hands to her, and called out cheery remarks which she would not have understood even had the closed windows not deadened the sound of their voices. And Capt. Stanhope, hurrying down the road. saluted her, and allowed a smile to flicker over his face and soften the deep lines that ran down on each side of his mouth. 3he nodded back brightly, for he was her particular favorite. Even when he had drunk deeply he never tried to flirt with her, as did most officers who visit- ed the billet; there was something a little appealing, almost tragic, about appearance, for he was still much too young to have those deep lines in WoobpwAaRrRD & LoTHROP Accented With Color A fashion with unlimited fashion possibilities for the Summer, 1930 “The fashion of DEAD WHITE is essentially a sports fashion, of course, but quite a different thing from the off-white and eggshell of last year,” says fashion reports. Smart Washing- ton will welcome the fashion of WHITE . . . and will like the freshness and charm it spreads. 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Black and colors,