Evening Star Newspaper, September 27, 1931, Page 76

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, b. E., SEPTEMBER . 27, 1931, NP, “Very well,” said Hamid, “you had to pay $614 to the bank this week.” .“No, no,” cried Madge, jumping to her feet. eir Family Skeletons T 3:30 the party began to show signs of breaking up. Louise Whelan brought out her prizes, explaining that she was ashamed of them. They were so tiny. A dozen silk scarves for the high man, and a dozen pairs of silk stockings for the high woman. A mere piffiing $60 invoice for Andy Whelan to pay! But the party was a glorious success. Great Joe Milburn was in the worst grouch of his whole lifetime when they reached home. He drove the car clear into the garags before he let Madge out. Then he banged shut the doors and stalked into the house, leaving Madge to liow aJong behind him as she pleased. He zald nothing, however, until they were . ‘Then: “Say, Madge, we've got to n that party next Wednesday. It’ll cost . I simply can’t afford it.” “Why not make a larger salary, Joe?” asked Madge, with sweet sarcasm. “You can’t expect to keep up a home, you know, on nothing.” “You would say that,” growled Joe, as he tossed & shoe viciously into the closet. gosh darn it, Madge! It takes time to work up & big income. And with business cn the bum as it is now, there isn’t a chance the chief will give me a raise for months and months. Be- sides, I'm making as much as any of these other saps out here.” “Well, then we’d better move into another neighborhood where the saps rate enough in- come to pay our expenses. I don’t want to quit living—just yet.” “I've got to pay the bank $614 tomorrow morning to keep from losing this house,” snap- ped Joe. He clicked out the light, banged up the windows and slumped down on the edge of the bed to take off his slippers. “I don’t see why you can’t be reasonable, Madge. Times really are bad.” " ELL, don’t get started on prohibition, too,” replied Madge. “Good night, you generous, big-hearted old miser.” Breakfast was a sour meeting. Jce was still grouchy and sullen. Madge was wondering whether Aali Hamid, the Indian mind reader whom her friends had spoken of the night be- fore, would do for her party. BShe had just ®bout deciged that h2 would. “If you get time today, dear,” she said, “won't you drop in and talk to him, Aali Hamid, I mean. Find out what he’ll charge to come. I just believe I'll have him.” At his office, Joe reached for his telephone. He had to have $614. He telephoned his plea to practically everybody in the world except Russia, and didn’t get a dime. “Don’t make me laugh,” Shorty Heminway told him. “If I had $600 I'd play the market with it. Maybe then I could get back some of the dough I lost last year.” Tom Bragg had no cash, but he offered som:> advice. “Go over and kid the guy at the bank, Joe,” he said. “You can always stall off a bill for “Why, “There isn't that much money in the world,” from Art Roberts. “Why, the country a fix. In New York last week bread line 14 blocks long and——" were practically strangers the same amount of help, Joe had collected some- curt “No’s,” he decided ir and glared at didn’t get anything aecom- of work for his firm. A man who is expecting a great catastrophe to arrive “Sit down,” snapped Joe. By David William Moore at any moment isn't in a fit condition to get work done. % It was nearly noon when his telephone rang. He took down the receiver like a man holding forth his wrists for a sheriff’s manacles. “All right,” he snarled. “Oh, hello, Joe, dear!” It was Madge. Her sweet tone didn’t make Joe any more cheerful. He waited for her to get finished with her silly chatter. “I'm so sorry you're worried, Joe,” tinued. “You know I love you, darling, and I'll do everything I can to help. I've been sit- ting here thinking of you down there all alone, ten from one of her aunt’s books. Won't that be glorious? “And Tom is going to have you men over at their house for a poker game. You'll enjoy that, Joe. And, Joe, I'm going to invite Tom and Connie and the aunt over to our house for din- ner tomorrow.” ARDLY had Joe hung up the receiver when the bell rang again. He sighed and reached for the telephone again. It was Mc- Klintock at the bank. “We've beer unnecessarily patient with you, Mr. Milburn,” the man said. “You apparently do not take your own promises seriously, so you can hardly expect us to do so. If you do not have payment here by 3 o’clock—" Joe thought of Madge, of the dinner tomor- row night, of Connie’s aunt—— “I’ll be there,” he replied. Joe Milburn was again at his desk the next morning, trying to think things over. The crisis of the preceding day had been too close for comfort, but he had come through. How he had obtained that $614 payment was nobody’s business. One thing was certain, he still had the amount to pay—but not to the bank. At least, he still had it to pay—if— He toyed with three slips of paper in his hand. Yes, Madge was right. Joe did enjoy . 'The game last night had been especially enjoyable. One of these slips of paper was a check for $270, signed by Shorty Heminway. Another was Bill Conrad’s check for $180. Not so bad. The third, however, wasn't so good. It was a check, all right, and it called for the sum of $175. It was signed by Tom Bragg. But it was dated two days ahead. If it had been dated today, then everything would have been perfect. The three checks totaled $625, And at 9:15 he got up from his desk and He was on his way to cash way and Conrad. The money would be safer in his pocket. Joe handed in the checks, after writing his name on them, and stood waiting for his . There was nothing in the business more delightful than cashing somebody saw the checks coming back toward - jumped. Joe went to the door. “Not sufficient funds,” explained the man. the “girls.” news in the world! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! EDNESDAY evening at 10 o'clock the 12 members of the Sleepy Court crowd were sitting in Madge’s front room, nervously breathing the atmosphere of the Orient. They were, in fact, waiting for the arrival of Aah Hamid, who, of course, couldn’t come until he had done his turn at the Albee Theater. The lights were low, and crescents and what- nots from the Far East were draped about on the walls. Over in the corner by the stairway was a throne, a big chair having been luxuri- ously covered with heavy red velvet. Madge had created: a perfect background for her “feature.” The front door bell rang lustily. Everybody Madge hur- ried after him. “Oh, help us all!” whispered Stella Heminway to the others. “I'm afraid I'll scream,” said Nita Conrad. Then Joe returned and took his place. More quiet. And almost before any one realized it, Madge stood in the doorway with the great Aali Hamid at her side. She spoke a few words of introduction, and the great man took his. seat. Hamid seemed to be studying his audience. A clock on the mantel ticked like a sledge ham- mer. Then Hamid’s voice. “I am now ready to tell facts about any individual here who wishes me to do so.” All eyes were on the mystic. They saw him make a few strange motions over the crystal - that had mysteriously appeared on his lap. “I wish you to know, my friends, that I read only what I see in the glass. I say the things that appear, and nothing else. Now, Mr. Milburn—" “Go ahead, Aali, and do your worst,” Joe replied. “Very well,” said Hamid. “You had to pay $614 to the bank this week——" “No! No!” cried ’tMn‘.:tgel.mj:mpIn‘ h'? her feet. “Joe, you mustn’ say—— “gijt down!” snapped Joe. “Sit down and keep still. We asked Aali Hamid here and we are obliged to listen. He is going to tell nothing but the truth. Proceed, Aali, and let’s get it over with.” The guests had hunched forward on their chairs, their eyes wide. “You had to pay $614 to the bank this weel to prevent your home being taken away from- you,” droned Hamid. *“But you didn’t have the money. You sold your motor car to Here’s One of Those Younger- Married - Set Stories Which Husbands Will Especially Ap- preciate. doing otherwise.” silence. It could have been cut with was sobbing quietly. Hamid was speaking some more. “Mr. Andrew Whelan, you have overdrawn MADG! was again on her feet. growled Andy Whelan, “Mr. Bragg,” it was the terrible Hindu again, “you will lose your automobile, your furniture and your home this month unless you can raise $4,000. You did not lose $8,000 on the stock market as you have claimed. “Mr. Conrad, you had seven collectors at your door yesterday asking for their money, but you have no money. You gave a check to Mr. Milburn to pay a poker debt that was refused at the bank——" Joe jumped up. “This has gone far enough,” he exclaimed. “I can't allow any more. I don’t know what this all means. I didn’t tell Hamid about your check, Bill, and But—" I'm sorry. Bill interrupted. “I told him, Joe.” “You told him?” “Yes,” admitted Bill. “So did 1,” declared Bragg. “Me, too,” said Whelan. A few minutes later, with Aali Hamid gone, the gathering again took up its “executive session.” Six men, sitting on the edges of their chairs, were eager to talk. Six women fought desperately to keep back tears. Tom Bragg got the floor. “We fellows have all been in the same boat, and we might as well stick together. I've got an idea to offer. From now on we’ll use some common sense. We’'ll go home at 11 o’clock, so we’ll feel like working the next day. We’ll serve nothing but coffee, and wel} playw m;l msot:; cards for money. “We’ kidding ourselves, and begin kidding the old world a bit. “8Sit down,” growling wolves away from our artistic front doors. What “Atta boy!” leading five strangely silent women. affair, that was ending so satisfactorily for the men, had been a nightmare for their wives. Of course, they were going to be good sports