Evening Star Newspaper, September 6, 1931, Page 57

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, SEPTEMBER 6, 1931, 13- _w*_*_*_:mz: casually to the clerk. I'm Peter Sargent. Here’s my card. Mr. Smithson will know me.” He watched her narrowly as he spoke. Her face flushed. When she spoke her voice was very low. “No, Peter.” : “Why not?” he asked lightly. B “Because I cen't—It's—You don't—It’s not right.” * The gentleman in black retired discreetly to the back of the store. “Look at me!” She raised her eyes. were troubled. “This is o party present,” he said evenly, “to celebrate the perfect, gorgeous time we’'ve been having. It has rothing to do"with the fact we're engaged and going to be married. I am giving it to you merely because you are the most enchanting person I remember ever know- ing, and because I'm mad about you.” He was conscious of a vibrant tension be- tween them as she stood facing him. It was almost as though a silent, deadly struggle were going on between them. Then a strange ex- pression came over her face, a curiously dis- torted refraction of conflicting emotions; joy mixed wtih sadness, excitement tinged with Tegret. When she spoke at last it was not to thank him. “I shall wear it, Peter, to remind me of what you have just said.” That was all. Later, as they sat over tea and sandwiches, Peter realized with amusement that even to & publisher, a promising young novelist was as nothing in comparison with a charming woman. Deliberately he kept himself in the background, and with satisfaction watched her as she met and talked to Boll on his own ground, with the easy formality which is bred of assurance and inner reserve. The introduction had been simple. “Mr. Boll, I want to int.oduce you to my fiancee.” “I'm delighted. Ccngratulations. But, Sare gent, you never told me you were engaged!™” “And he never told me until today that he was changing publishers, Mr. Boll,” she had thrown in coolly, “so we are quits.” What would he say to Boll to explain mat- ters? Already shc had calmly admitted that they were being married in a fortnight and sailing for Euiope. This fantasy might be amusing now, but it promised to be awkward later. He remembered an old expression he bad heard as a boy, “digging a hole and pulling the hole in after you.” That was what they were doing, she with apparent deliberation, weaving a web of complications about him which he would never be able to explain without making a fool of himself. The time had come to clear up this mystery. Things couldn't go on like this. Why, he was just about in love with the witch. And. strangely, her attitude toward him seemed to have undergone a subtle change since Juncheon. There was still that enigmatic look in her eyes and that curious smile on her lips when she made some particularly astound- ing announcement, but during the afternoon he had caught now and then a new note in her voice, a hint of rebellion, almost of despera- tion. And several times he had surprised her looking at him with the wistlul expression of a person who is reluctantly dismissing the thought of something desirable but unattain- able. She had been queer about the bracelet, too, never mentioning it after they left Beck- with’s, but often looking at it and touching it as if she were impressing every detail of it on hér memory. It was time to go. Almost as an afterthought Boll produced the contract. Peter had already approved the terms, and he signed it almost mechznically. “Cargent, we will want to send out a pub- licity note about vour engagement and ap- proaching marriage, if you don’t mind.” “Wait until after we're married, please.” “Nonsense, dear.” Her laugh was gay. “You've got your public to think of. Mr. Boll, Il send you all the facts myself if Peter won't.” “Those facts will be interesting,” Peter ob- served grimly. They N a quarter hour it would be midnight. Usually the corner alcove of the roof boasted a table for six: tonight it held a small table just large enough for two. Peter usually had his way about such matters. He was absently watching the open path be- twcen the tables. It was a green path strewn with small bright flowers. She would be coming toward him over the flowers in a moment. It had already been a quarter of dn hour. But she had warned him this time. I have to leave you for a few minutes. be a bit long Will you wait here? No, please, don’t even walk out with me. I'd rather leave you here at the table, listening to the music. Good-by, dariing. Think of me!” And she had wa'ked down the pathway between the tables. He lit a cigarette nervously. Before the night was over he was going to call her hand and end this preposierous game. He sensed that she kncw that a crisis was ahead. “Mr. Sargent?” H~ '~oked up at the waiter inquiringly and “Peter, I may “A lady left this at the desk to be delivered to you at quarter to 12.” The man laid an envelope on the table and walked away. Peter Sargent, Esa. To be delivered at 11:45 E felt something cold drive into his heart as he studied the inscription in a strange handwriting, which he knew must be hers. For a minute he stared at it absently, then he de- liberately crushed out his lighted cigarette and tore open the envelopz. Peter: > It's been glorious, and I'm glad—eglad that I went mad, that I dared, glad that it was you. This atternoon I realized that you thought you were falling in love with me and I wasn't sure that in another cay I myself would be able to wake from this dream which has made me forget almost everything else. So I knew I must go bacik ymmediately. A few minutes after you read this, Peter, drink my health. My train will be whirling me by you, up Park avenue, two short blocks away. I shall be thinking of you, and I want to think of you bidding me farewell—gayly. For in two weeks I'm to*be married. I've known” him since child- hood, and & year ago I promised to marry him because I admired him and cared for him more than any one I kncw. Oh, but Peter, darling, shouldn’t everything be gay, thrilling, unreason- able, when you're in love? Shouldn’t it take your breath sway? My wedding present i3 a square white house with 14 rooms and four tiled baths. Maybe I've dreamed too much and want the moon. Or pcrhaps he Is too conselous of stocks and bonds. I don't know. Oh, yes—I do—now. - Peler, you wouldn't expect me to explain clear- 1y things that I will ncver fully understand my- self, would you? I wasn't looking for anything like this when I arrived in New York two davs ago; I came East partly to get some clothes, but chiefly to be utterly alone for three or four days and try and settle some of my doubts and fears. What happened inside then when I saw you there in the lobby? I don't know. You were tall, lean, in rough tweeds. Your face was strong, with eves wide apart. I thought: “There’'s the sort of man I want to be enzaged to! I can’t tell you just what happened mnext. A wave of sickening cepression, snd then thouchts racing almost too fast to follow. I remember imacining myself engaged to. you. Suddenly my mind became strangely objective. snd I had the wildest impulse to play the mad comedy. If vou did not respond, an insiant of embarrassment; if you fell into your role imme- diately—well, I didn't know exactly what would happen. At first I was afraid, and then as though drawn by some force too strong to Tesist, I found myrelf walking toward you, and as I crossed the lobby I planned exactly what 1 was going to ay and do. You know the rest. Except how I discovered your name—your over- coat. Well, it's almost over. And tomorrow morning the hotel clerk will send a boy up to Beckwith’'s with a bracelet I'll never forget. Forgive me for one thing—involving yo1 so with Arthur Boll this afternoon. I suppose it was a malicious and perverse desire to leave complicaticns behind to remind you of me. cept for that, I can't feel very guilty as you are concerned, decr. In & month this will be nothing but a romantic ineident for you: but for me it will remain the most exciting adventure of my life—which suddenly became £0 dangerous that I had to flee in order to save myself. Good-by, darling. 1 have loved you. My name is LOIS. E stared at the signature. So her name was Lois—Lois Sargent, for of course he was going to marry her. He had known that be- fore he was half through her letter. Poor kid! “Waliter, the check, please, and fast.” Five minutes later, having done som: rapid thinking, Peter faced the opcrator at the switchboard. “I want your undivided attention for 10 min- “Ye-ah?" “Do I get it?” he asked coolly, laying down a bill. “That and—Mister!” “Call Sacramento 6327 and get Mr. James Sloan.” “Head of Curtiss Flying Service?” the girl asked, her eygs now wide with intergst. “Yes. If he isn't at home, find out where he is and-get him, and don’t let him go. In the meantime, plug this beoth out on another line for me. What's the Cariton number?” In a few minutes he emerged from the booth. “Any luck?” ¢ “Mr. Sloan's in ‘Déenver, I'll probably get through in about five minutes.” Peter frowned. “I'm not waiting. When you get him, tell him to hang on, then call me at the manager’s office at the Carlton, and con- nect us up. I'll be there in five minutes. Also put 2 call through for Curtiss Field. Get who- ever's in charge at the operations office, and pull the same trick with him.” He laid down several more bills. will cover everything?” “Easy, unless you and them start telling each other funny stories.” “All right. I'll come back for the change some day.” # “What's the name?” He told her. “Gee, I like the way you work, Mister.” “Think this T 7 o'clock the next morning Peter dropped down on the field of the Municipal Air- port at Buffalo and taxied over to the Curtiss hangar. The airport manager, having been routed out of bed at 1 o'clock by a long dis- tance call from Denver, and again at 3 by an urgent message from New York, walked over to the plane with some curiosity. “I'm sorry to get you up so early,” grinned Peler, as he stepped out of the cabin, “but it's important.” “I hope so, having been up most of the night about your mechanics and finding you a closed car 2nd chauffeur for this ungodly hour of the morning. There it is over there.” He pointed o where a big limousine stood waiting. “That's grand.” “Say, who are you anyway, that Jimmy Sloan should call me from Dcnver and ask me to turn the airport sver to you?” “Just a friend of Jimmy's.” “So I gather.” The man eyed Peter's plane with approval. “You've got a swell job here. Designed special for you, I guess.” “Well, here are your two mechanics. Now, what else do you want?” Four Wa ys 10 Bring Prosperity Back | Continued from Third Page sult of the suffering of millions during the eco- nomic crisis. Mr. Woll declared there was bould to be an increasing challenge of our social order and our ideals if s many families were denied th2 opportunity to earn a living wage. Men who suffered the loss of slowly accumulated savings and feared for the future of their wives and children could not be expected to be patient philosophers, he said. “People who don't know the meaning of Communism or Bolshevism talk recklessly and need little provocation to take violent action,” he continued, “because they feel they have lost their stake in the system. “We have considered home ownership a sub- stantial stake and have encouraged families to own their own homes, But today that is not enough. A more important stake in the system is a steady job. Men want security for their wives and children more than they want a piece of property. And if we want loyal citizens we have to plan that they have steady jobs and a full opportunity of providing against loss and :ufleflng entailed through sickness and acci- ent.” V'~ REE men with the spirit of American peo- ple will not cortinue to tolerate an eco- nomic development witn recurring crises throw- ing them out of jobs. They have to be taken care of. Private charity is not the way to han- dle it. Americans resent the need of asking charity. Either industry must undertake to provide for men who have lost their jobs or the Government will be required to assume the re- sponsibility for unemployment and compel in- dustry to pay for its folly in not having planned properly. “Americans shy away from increasing the social responsibility and the bureaucratic func- tions of the Government. And as industry be- gins to recognize its obligation to provide for the unemployed, the first step is to attempt to make unemployment unnecessary. “A congress of American industry can begin to solve this problem. It can develop ways and means to prevent underconsumption and keep the people at work. “Depressions are not inevitable nor ineradica- ble. Given the will and the vision, there is enough human wisdom in our leaders to make it unnecessary for any Amcrican to suffer for the lack of work or wages.” (Copyrignt, 1931.) General Farming Held Key to Problems HE cotton farmer is, like the wheat farmer, an example of the economically unsound practice of one-crop farming, in the opinion of agricultural experts. He pins all his hopes of prosperity on a good yield and a good price for his cotton and, failing in these, he finds himself in a precarious position financially at the end of his growing season. The development of the present one-crop system among cotton farmers is largely due to a system of financing the crops which has brought insistence upon the part of the loan- ers that the money advanced be spent exclu- sively upon cotton production. It is estimated by Federal experts that fully 85 per cent of the cotton raised in the South is raised with the aid of borrowed money. The cctton crop makes fair security, for it is a crop which cannot be stolen nor sold in part surrep- titiously. Naturally where th-re is the gamble on the size and price of the crop, fairly high rates of interest are common. This means that the farmer must bend all his energies to rais- ing cotton in order to obtain sufficient ca-h to pay his loans and have something left over for his personal uses. Owners of farms who rent to tcnants also are insistent upon cotton as a crop, for it brings in an assured cash return. This continued growing of cotton year after year without giving the ficlds a rest results in an impoverished soil yielding a poorer and poorer crop as the fertility drops. Commercial fertilizers on a large scale require money and a farmer living from hand to mouth year by year is in a bad position to consider the financ- ing of a large-scaled fertilizing program. Because his time is a’'l devoted to cotton raising, the farmer has little time and little acreage available to raise the food necessities of his family and is forced to purchase food in the stores. This is an uneconomic practice for him, as he must pay several profits over the cost of raising the food. Agricultural experts are urging the farmers, whether cotton, wheat, dairying or other one- crop type, to change their tactics and bend their effcrts first of all to raise the food- stuffs the family needs to sustain it over the year. The time and acreage left over beyond this can be devoted to one or more cash crops, the income from which can be used for taxes, upkeep, clothing and other necessities. A farmer so planning his work, and often the farmers of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, are cited as an example, will have some surplus milk, wheat, potatoes, apples and other fruits, as well as other vegetables and products of the poultry yard to sell. By this means, the farmer and his family are sure of eating. They are certain to have fuel, for the wood lot supplies the firewood. It a bumper crop of fruit has brought the price of fruit too low to yield much in the way of a cash return, perhaps the poultry yard or the pig pens will make up the difference. At any rate, with so many lines in which he has a bit of surplus to sell, the farmer finds the question of cash far less un- certain and he seldom finds himself face to face with an approaching Winter in which the source of his food is a problem. 80,000,000 T'rees Set Out HE planting of trees supplied by the various States reached decidedly great propor- tions last year with the total of young trees set out being 80,000,000. Much of the planting was done for timbering purposes, although large numbers were put out as windbreaks and to prevent erosion. Fairly heavy plantings were made near cities and in sections where the wood-working industries are located. Of the trees planted, New York State accounted for ' nearly 25,000,000, with Michigan second, taking 19,000,000. After a short talk with the airport manager and two mechanics mcney changed hands nd Peter stepped over to the limousine that was waiting. 3. At 8:40 he was at the Central Terminal, waiting in the long reception corridor over the tracks as the express from New York pulled in and eased to a stop. He watched the pas- sengers as they began to appear at the top of the stairs. He'd have to keep out of sight until he saw whether or not she was being met. There! She was in the sharkskin suit, walk- ing slowly. Her face lacked that interested, animated expression with which people usually arrive at their destinations, but she was obvi- ously looking for some one. She Wore a spray of very yellowed gardenias. i Peter waiied in the background until he was sure that no one was there to greet her. Finally she gave up her search and turned to a redcap, who carried two heavy wardrobe suit cases. Peter moved forward. “Good morning, Lois.” The color drained from her face. When she spoke it was in a whisper. “Peter! HoW did you get here?” “Flew.” “You shouldn't have followed me.” “I thought I'd like to have one more talk with you. Shall I take you home now?"” “You must go away—at once.” He looked at her and half smiled. as we've talked.” “I—I don't think I can talk just now, Peter™ “That's why I suggested I take you home’ he said gently. “I've got a car outside.” Silently she walked beside him through the station. “What's the street, dear?” he asked. “The reople at the Carlton d.dn’'t know that.” Peter repeated the address to the chauffeur and took his place beside her. “Plezse don’t talk now,” she murmured. Her eyes had closed, and she had slumped down in her corner as though she were very tired. They threaded their way through the heavy traffic, turned out Genesee street, and then picked up speed. Twenty minutes later the car swung into the airport. Lois was sitting rigid. Her face was flushed, and her eyes, wide open and defiant. They bore - straight for the hangar, then, against all rules, through the gates onto the field where two mechanics were warming up Peter's plane. They drew up behind the left wing and Peter jumped out. The mechanics approached, one on each side of the car. The chauffeur had already started the girls suit cases toward the plane. “We're changing cars here,” Peter announced casually. She did not move. “Lois!” bis voice was hard. No reply. Peter turned to the mechanic be- side him. % “Is everything ready?” “Sure.” “Lois, get out!” He waited a moment, then turned to the man coolly. “All right. My sister refuses to come. Go ahead!” He stepped into the plane, and took his place at the controls. As though it had been re- hearsed a dozen times, the mechanic on the far side of the limousine stepped into the ear, picked Lois up in his arms and handed her out to his companion. Twenty seconds later she had been deposited in the seat beside Peter, She had made no struggle. The plane rolled forward slowly, then faster, and faster, and pulled itself off the ground Five minutes later they were flying at a heighé of 3,000 feet. “You can't do this sort of thing nowadays,” Lois said icily. : fe He grinned in triumph. “On the contrary, it is only nowadays that I could do it.” “You certainly will look like a fool when you have to take me back.” “That’s' one of the reasons we're not going “Where are you taking me?” “It's up to you, Lois. I'm only the pilot.” “Well?” - “By swinging southeast we could make New York by 2 o'clock and get married today.” “What makes you think you can get away with this?” she demanded furiously. “Because you“love me.” “I hate you!” “One of us must be wrong there. questionably you.” Her eyes closed, and he could sece that she was breathing heavily. Her hands were clenched together in her lap, the knuckles whit¢ from the pressure. At last she opened her eyes and looked at him. “Peter, take me back, please. I{ isn't right, I'm engaged to marry another man.” “That's what you say. But I've got a wite ness, Arthur Boll, to prove you're engaged 0 me.” “I've got 1o go back. I tell you I care for him.” “That's perfectly all right, dear stand, and I'm not at all jealous.” “It would break his heart.” “Naturally,” he agreed. “But better one heart of his than two of ours.” She turned from him and for a long time silently gazed out through the window at the clear panorama stretched out below. Peter watched her. It was as though she were think- ing of her whole future ‘in perspective, as though she were trying to see all of life ad once. Well, he'd help her. Gently he pulled the stick back—3,500 feet—4,000—4,500—5,000, “Why are we climbing?” she asked idly. “I thought you might want to see fartheg than you ever had before, Lois.” “No more, please.” “Too high? Do you want me to drop a bit?® She shook her head, and sank back into heg reverie. “Is this your plane?” she asked presently, withput turning from the window. . “Yes.” “Is it good and safe?” o “As they make ’'em.” o “Fast?” “A hundred snd eight-three, when she's wide open. Why?” “Because, safely kmt very fast, Peter; I'd Mke, please, to go to New York.™ (Copyright, 1091.) 2 “As soon Its une< I under-