Evening Star Newspaper, December 13, 1931, Page 103

l PUZLLES I po g Here's a picture puzzle that will get you off %0 a good start. FOURCA RD GAM Es] s RS Have you ever played the game of “Authors”? If you have, you know what made us think of this word diamond. The second line means to eat the evening meal, the third is satiated, the fifih is a flower and the sixth is arid. Can you form the diamond? A U T AUTHORS (o] R 8 —_—3 How many words can you form from the letters in “euchre,” another card game? There aren’t very many, but with a little effort you should be able to find at least eight. ol In the sentence below, the missing words are pronounced alike, but spelled in different ways. ‘What are they? He used an to make SIS the holes. CROSS-WORD PUZZLE. The definitions are: HORIZONTAL, 2. Log house. 7. Lacking wealth. 9. My. 11. Prefix meaning “former.” 12. Nickname of a former President. 14. Toward. 15. A flower. 17. Exists, 18. We. 20. Church steeple, 24. Sc. 26. Bolidified water. 27. Horsepower (abbr.), 28. Midday. 30. Always. 32. Provides with food. VERTICAL. 1. Not shut. 2. Company (abbr.). 3. Bections of a circle. 4. Island. 5. Negative. 6. Bow of a ship. 8. Beast of burden. 10, Near. 13. Garret. 15. Donkey. 16. Grieve for, regret. 19. Sound of mind. 31. Evergreen tree. 22. Kind of coarse grass. 23. Nimble, active. 25. Therefore, 27. Masculine pronoun, #9. Belonging to. 31. Against (abbr.). RIDDLES Why not have a contest with some of your friends and see which one of you can get the most correct answers to these riddles in a given time? All set—let’s go! 1. What is a bare-faced liar? 2. When is an elevator not an elevator? 3. When is hair like a stick of wood? ANSWERS. 1. One without whiskers. 2. When it is go-~ ing down. 3. When it is knotted. THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., DECEMBER 13, 1971. e BOYS and GIRLS PAGE The Ghost in the Attic AD [yslery Slory One of the fellows turned to Bill, “I guess the old Blodgett house is haunted,” he said. ARE YOU A GOOD DETECTIVE? Some very strange things happen in the old Blodgett house. Perhaps you can explain them. Read each installment of this story carefully, Later, before the mystery has been solved, the author of the story will give you & chance to use your wits and win a prize. Waitch for the announcement! BY W. BOYCE MORGAN. INSTALLMENT 1. HIS is a ghost story—the story of a haunted house that kepc my little home town of Bairdsville in an uproar for days—and nights! But, strangely enough, it is also a story with a moral, at least for me. The moral is this: When you have a job to do, get it done at once and don't put it ofl, But since I don’t want to :poil the story for you, I'll say nothing more about the moral and its connection with the strange things that happened up at the old Blodgett place, until the very end of the story. And by that time, if you are smart, you will already have seen the connection. Well, I suppose the best way to start is to tell you that Bairdsville was just “rine” for a good mystery that December. On the night of De- cember 8 $here occurred one of those things that every schoolboy dreams about. The build- ing that housed both the junior and senior high schools caught fire! Talk about excite- ment! Everybody in our little town was there almost immediately, and I can't deny that a ot of the younger spectators made noises thas sounded suspiciously like cheers. But the firemen did noble work, and the dam= Bge was not very extensive, However, it was great enough to make the holding of classes difficult, and since Christmas vacation was ap- proaching anyway, they decided to close the school until after the holidays so that repairs might be made. There was no other place in town where classes could be held, so the de- lighted students were presented with a vacation of alraost & month, in place of the usual two- weeks holiday. AYBE we didn’t think we were lucky! And how the kids in grade school envied us. But strangely enough, before very long we ace tually began to get bored, and as for our par- ents, they were driven almost crazy. You see, the chief trouble was the weather, It simply rained and rained and rained, so you couldn’t be outside very much, and we soon exhausted all our ideas for amusing ourselves inside. If we had been able to get in the school gym it wouldn’t have been so bad, but, of course, we couldn’t do that with the carpenters working on the building. It got so bad finally that Hunk Chalmers, Chuck Lodi, Paul Fox and I began to spend owr afternoons hanging around the school, watching the workmen. We were standing there one day, watching new glass being fitted into the windows and trying to keep the drir- zling rain from getting down the backs of our necks when Hunk voiced the sentiments of all of us, “Boy,” he said emphatically, “if anybody had told me that I'd ever long for school to start again, I'd have laughed my head off. But hon- estly, if something doesn’t happen in this town pretty soon, I'll pop!” “Same here,” said Chuck in disgust. would only quit raining.” “Or if we just had some snow,” chimed in Paul. “I got a letter from my cousin up in i+ i |- Canada the other day and they are having ® swell time up there, skilng and coasting and all” “Well,” I said, trying to be cheerful, “Christ- mas is only about a week away. That'’s one good thing.” “Oh, yeah?” rejoined Chuck sarcastically. “Say, at this rete, Santa Claus won't find any- thing but a buuch of corpses when he comes to this town.” UNK pulled his collar up around his neck. “I've had enough of this,” he said. *“I guess those workmen can get those windows in without our h:lp. What say we go over to my shop and see what we can find to do over there?” Hunk, who was handy with tools, had a dandy shop fixed up in his basement, but at the moment the prospect of going there ap- pealed to nobody. There was nothing else to do, so we started for Hunk’'s house, slouch- ing along disconsolately under the dripping skies, As we passed my house, my conscience sud- denly began to prick. Dad had told me to take out the ashes that morning and I hadn’t done it yet. I hadn’'t had a thing to do all day, but it seems the less you have to do, the less you want to do, and I had kept my nose buried in a book until lunch time. Now, however, I decided I'd better get working on those ashes, or I'd hear about it when Dad got home. “Sorry, fellows,” I said. “But I guess I'll have to leave you. I have a heavy date with the ash pile.” With suitable retorts they said goodby and moved on down the street, while I turned into the house, changed my clothes, and was soon digging into the ash pit of the furnace. Ordinarily I would have spent the time just after supper in studying, but since there was no studying to do, I helped my sister Lorna with the dishes—a job I hate worse than anything else under the sun—and then started out to see If I couldn’t find some of the fellows, S I bhave said, Bairdsville is a small place and you are almost sure to find anybody you are looking for either in his home, or some= where along the main street. But tonight ¥ failed to see Hunk or Chuck or Paul, although I was sure they wouldn’t be staying home if they could help it, and they were too broke to be geing to the movies. Finally I stopped to see Bill Donaldson, whose father runs the big service station on the corner. Bill wasn't very busy just then, 50 we sat in the station and talked about autos and motors and so forth. It must have been 9 o’clock when a car pulled up beside the pumps, and I went out with Bill while he served his customers. One of the men in the car was Mr, Frazier, a lawyer, while the other was somebody I didn't know. “Say, Bill,” said Mr. Frazier, as Bill examined the radiator to see if it needed water, “I didn’'t know anybody had moved into the old Blodgett place, did you?” “Why, no,” said Bill, “I'm sure it’s still empty. Nobody would move in there. Ii's a wreck.” “I know it's a wreck,” said Mr. FPrazier, “Nevertheless, somebody is living there. We Jjust drove past on the old road, and I saw & light in the place and heard a radio going.” “A radio? In the Blodgett place?” Bill was frankly skeptical. “Well, it was a radio or somebody playing & violin,” said Mr. Frazier. “Thanks, Bill,” he finished, and pocketing his change, he started the motor and drove away. BILL turned to me with a grin. *“If Mr. Frazier weren't a teetotaler and a pillar of the church, I'd think he'd had a drop too much,” he said. “That stuff about the Blode gett place certainly sounds funny to me.” “It sure does,” I agreed. “Why, nobody could live there, in weather like this. There is hards ly a window left in the place, and I'll bet the roof leaks in a hundred places.” Bill and I fell to discussing the old Blodgety house, which stood on & hill on the edge of thé town. It was a huge, many-gaoled, wooden house, surrounded by pine trees, and once had been one of the grandest places in town. Buf the Blodgeit family had moved West years and after the new road was built at the of the hill the big old house stood empty. Nom body had lived there as long as I could remengs ber and the place had fallen into terrible dige repadr. Just as I was about to start home, anothe® car drove in for gas. Two couples were in it and they were giggling in nervous excitement. “I tell you I did see it,” cried one of the girld, “There was a light up on the top floor, as sure as the world.” One of the fellows turned to Bill. “I guess the old Blodgett place is haunted,” he said. “At any rate, there’s something queer going on up there.” (To be continued next Sunday.) Indian Idea for a Bag HOBBY CLUB TALE. = HA FULL moon shed its golden, glimmering glory on the dark woters of the lakeM said Verna Donaldson to the Hobby Club ments bers. “The beating of tomtoms and the sounds of weird singing re-echoed through the sombes forest of pine trees. Indians clad in all theig war paint and feathers, gamboled around the crackling orange flames of the camp fires, ' “It was the last night at camp for the scomi and guides, who had joined forces for a weineg roast, and by way of novel entertainmeat, mg &~ had persuaded the Indians from a near] reservation to come over to give them & r ‘jamboree” PFunny how, even when therelf plenty of excitement around you, trivial mate ters are telegraphed to your brain. I found .el(twactedwlookstoneolmeclflelx looking shoe bags that I have ever seen, carrie@ by the girl next to me. It was made of chamois leather and bore a great resemblance to the coats of the Indians, which were made of deey hide and embroidered with beads. “The girl's name was Iris, and the bag wag beautifully embroidered with her namr.-flow_ in deep blue silk, “Later, she told me how simply it was made, Get enough chamois leather, which you cad get at any hardware store, to make the size of the bag that you desire. Cut the leather to this size, sew, and make a top hem wide enough tQ insert ribbon. Iron on transfer of whateveg design you wish, embroider it with any color of silk floss, and you have the loveliest and mosk serviceable utility bag imaginable, “The great advantage of chamois leather 1§ thatitwmm”eaauy,sothatyoucan depend(mhavmg&cleanmdmnwceflsaq at all times.” A Sign Language Mistress—I am a woman of few words. XI I beckon with my finger that means cone. New Maid—That suits me, ma’am. I'm a woman of few words myself. If I shake my head that means I ain’t comin’, - ANSWERS, 1. The card games are bri e, old maid, poker and 500. o 2. The diamond is A, sup, sated, author; peony, dry and S. i 3. Ere, cue, cure, cheer, her, here, hue, rue. 4. Awl, all, 5. Cross-word purgie solution. U]S) B BEoRg B Als Il ICIE] O N] ER] -