New Britain Herald Newspaper, August 10, 1921, Page 4

HOLDING A HUSBAND Adele Garrison’ Revelations of a Wife + The Fear From Which Madge Shrank. ‘The comment Dicky had ‘concerning. the impossibality of Grace Draper posing for him, with my father, Lillian and Hugh Grani- land “on the job,” was one that troubled me also. That these three, together with = Allen Drake—and Harry Usnderwood, if Grace Draper was to ‘bé’ believed—were keeping ‘close wageh upon her movements, had beerd demonstrated ever since she was released from prison. The task of eluding them would not be easy, and yet I resolved to try. “Let satistying or eluding people be my job,” I said quietly to Dicky, in answer to his protest. “And—will you write to her, or— made those s New Phase of terview even to her naming tour persons who, she said, were keeping watch over her. But I did not tell of my conflicting impressions of the girl whether she were sincers, or playing a part with consummate skill. I wished Dicky to believe that she was sincere or—a corroding little douit began to creep into my mind—was I not in reality protecting myself against the possible shock of having him put aside my unfavor- able impressions as vagaries of my mind ? “Then you know how to reach her by letter?” Dicky said slowly when I had finished. “She doesn’t dare have any letter addressed directly to her,” I said. “She told me that when I was at the shall 17" He stared at me in amazement, in which I saw there was a distinct- ly resentful tinge. “How 'do you know where to write her?” he asked suspiciously. “I thought we agreed when you showed me that letter from her down south that you wouldn’t answer it until I had given you my decision about it. I know I . should have spoken to you about that long ago, but, hondstly, it slipped my" mind.” My heart gave the same thrill of relief and happiness it had given when Dicky evinced his compiecte for- getfulness of the draperies which Grace Draper’s finger®# had embroid- ered for him. If things concerning her coninually slipped his mind in- stead of obsessing it, then, indeed, was I safe in permitting hef to serve as his model again. “I didn't answer it,”” I protested. ".B)lt——l have a little confession fo make to wyou, nevertheless, about Grace Draper.” He looked at me sharply. “Shoot,”” he said, with apparent nonchalance, but I knew that he, in reality, was all attention. “In the first place.” I began, deter- mined to clear myself of the imput tion that I had broken faith with him over Grace Draper’s appeal, “1 tried to tell you of this the morning 1 left Marvin, but you would not Jisten to me.” “That’s right! he exclaimed. “You did try to spiel something, and Iput the kibosh on it. Well, now, your Puritan conscience is absolved, 50 go ahead with your story.” “She Told Me As Much. How his volatile spirits had risen at the mere prospect of getting Grace Draper back as a model! If I had . not realized how strictly professional his need of her was I am afraid my old jealousy of the girl would have flamed into = life. ~ But with this knowledge comforting me, I -was able to proceed sedately with the “story of my trip to Hempstead on the lure of the house to let 5et] forth by ‘Grace. Draper: I related every incident of the in- Hempstead house; But a letter en- closed in one addressed to a cousin of - Linda Shellford’s, the woman who—" Doubts. “Had such a peachy. jag,” Dicky interrupted. “I'll tell the world Gracie hasn't last her foxiness. She's on to the fact that her own mail, and probably that of the jaggy lady, is watched. I'll bet she takes care that this Linda lady and her cousin os- tensibly have nothing to do with each other.” “She told me as much” I said a bit shortly. I was willing to go through with this thing, but I did not especially care for enthusiastic comments~ upon Grace Draper’s mentality. “Then that's all right,” Dicky said slowly. He rose fabruptly as he spoke, jumped from the car, and began to stride rapidly up and down the little level space upon the top of the hill where we had stopped. I know that he was threshing out with himself the advisability of bringing Grace Draper back into his life again, and I had hard work to keep from crying out to him that I could not bear it—that there must be some other way out. A sudden paralyzing thought struck me. I remembered that Lillian adroitly had armed my- father with the story of that attempt on my life which Grace Draper had made in the first year of my marriage, whea she had seized my foot while swim- ming, and had tried to pull me down into the undertow. Lillian had done this, I knew, so that Dicky could be told of that long-ago happening which I had determined never to reveal. Had my father told Dicky? With that knowledge of her hatred of me, was Dicky willing to chance her repentance and risk that hatred again for the sake of his career? I had no means of knowing the truth, and I realized that the ques- tion would fester in my consciousness if Dicky decided again td employ Grace Draper as a model. e Ilhi; lids l r«"', = Unless otherwise noted, these bureaus of the thester or attractions with which they CAHILL & ROMINO HIT AT CAPITOL “Do you speak Greek?” “Suttingly Ah speaks Greek. How you s'pose anlbody eats nowadays if dey don’t speak Greek?” This from Cahill and Romino, fun dispensers at - the Capitol theater, Hartford. “Sweethearts,” the headliner, is me- diocre as compared with many of the musical comedy acts which have been presented on the boards. Peggy and Marguerite perform some unusual jugsling stunts with apparent ease. The Ethel Levy Trio have a reper- toire of jazz. The scren feature of the bill is “The Scarab Ring,” a mys- tery story. Alice Joyce does some PALACE Tonight Grifiith’s Love Flower * Thursday, Friday, Saturday The Thrilling Wild Animal Photoplay. ““The Revenge of Tarzan” The biggest sensational. film of the year. KEITH VAUDEVILLE ALL HEADLINERS LAST TIME TONIGHT TO SEE THE DANCING SHOES. ““THURS. FRL SAT. MAY AmLLlSON The Last Card’ VAUDEVILLE FEATURING notices are written by the press dnal, excellentf,c!lng as the girl who fights to keep unscathed the memory of her father. MAY ALLISON AT LYCEUM. Who is the woman next door? Nobody knew. But Elsie Kirkwood in some occult way sensed that only through the woman could the mys- tery of the murdered body be gound in the basement of her home. for which her husband was accused. But solved it was and by the most un- ~anny and wierd intuition. See May Allison interpret Elsie in “The Last Card.” The vaudeville program is ieaded by Betty's Back. Miss Betty Booth, who takes the lead, was late prima donna of the Sinbad show. Five other acts will complete the vau- deville program. N WOMEN CONTINUALLY OVERDO. This applies to all women, regard- less of caste or color. The ambitious Zirl striving for school honors, the cverworked housewife, the shop girl, girls in offices and stores, and the society woman all climb too high, overtax their strength, and what fol- lows? Nervous prostration, sleepless- ness, backache, headaches, and the inevitable weakness and ailments pe- enliar to their sex soon develop, which unless checked bring on more ser- ious conditions, and which often lead to operations. An efficient restora- tive for such ailments is Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, ~hich is now recognized from coast to coast as a standard remedy for waman's ills. “REVENGE OF TARZAN” AT THE PALACE. Gene Pollar, who plays Tarzan in the newest screen sensation of the day, etitled “The Revenge of Tar- zan,’ is six feet, three inches tall and shaped like a modern version of a Greek God. The handsome Gene was crosen to play what is perhaps the most difficult role in motion picture history, not only because of his ap- pearance but because of his nerve and athletic prowess. He needed them all in “The Revenge of TarZas.” In one scene, Pollar fights single- handed against a gang of ten ruffians in an apache dive, and throws them about the room like so many nine- pins. In another, Gene drops from /NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 10, 1ozr “THE DUKE OF CHIMNEY BUTTE” By G. W. OGDEN The Romance of a Chivalrous Adventurer in the Lawless West. (Copyright, 1920, A. C. McClurg & Co.) (Continued from Yesterda\ s Herald.) ]holster at his saddle bow. And in that Jim Wilder, a cowboy who is not too popular on the range, thinki that Jeremiah y Lambert, 3 peddle who rode into camp on’a bicycle, was a green tenderfoot, offered him his ewn horse, whicn was somewhat of an outlaw, if ha could ride it. Lam- bert, who formerly broke range horses for a living at the Chicago stock vards, roda the animal without diffi- culty, whereupon Wilder, who W only bluffing, attempted to take back his horse. In the fisnt which ensued, Lambert is cut, but not seriously, with a knife wielded by Wilder. The lat- ter's knife is taken from him by a cowboy named Spence, who in turn is shot by Wilder, who flees from camp. Lambert gave chase, returning at dusk leading Wilder’s horses There wai blood on the empty saddle. Lambert, now known ai “Tha Duke of Chimney Butte,’ makes a new record #n the little town by racing hit horse against the flyer, overtak- ing the train long enough to ‘receive a handkerchief tossed him from the observation platform of the Pullman car. Later he starts out in search of the girl of the hanagerchief, in com=- pany with a cowboy named Taterleg. The men arrive in Glendora, where The Duke expects tv find that Miss Vesta Philbrook, whose father had died a few weeks before is the girl of the handkerchief. They find Miss Vesta is not tHu girl they are seeking but are in time to come to her rescue as she is attacked by two Vesta tells Duke that neighboring ranchers take exceptions.to her fences and cut them just as fast as she can repair them. Duke and Taterleg of- fer to work for her and put a stop to this practice if they can. A ranch- er named Kerr is the worst offender. One night Duke finds the fenca cut and a note fastened to the wires which reads: “Why don’t you come and get me Duke?” He vowed he would. That night he scaled the little butte after mending the fence behind him. leaving his horse concealed among the huge blocks of rocks at its foot. instant, as the fleeing rider bent tug- Bing at the gun which seemed to be strapped in the holster, Lambert saw that it was not a man. A strand of dark hair had fallen from under the white sombrero; it was drooping lower and lower as it uncoiled from its anchorage. Lam- bert pressed his horse forward a few feet, leaned far over and snatched away the hand that struggled to un- buckle the weapon. g S}’IE turned on him, her face scarlet in its fury, their horses racing side by side, their stirrups clashing. Dis- torted as her features were by anger and scorn at the touch of one so dewpised, Lambert fe't his heart leap and fall, and seem to stand still in his bosom. 1t was not only a girl; it was his girl, the girl of the beck hand. Fronup .. CHAPTER VI. The Fury of Doves. Lambert released her the moment that he made his double discovery, foolishly shaken, foolishly hurt, to realize that she had been afraid to have him know it was a woman he pursued. He caught her rein and cHecked her horse along with his own. “What are you going to do about it?” she asked him defiantly. “I guess you'd better go home.” “T'll have to go back the way I came,” she said. “There is no other way.” They started back in silence riding side by side. Wonder filled the door of his mind; he had only disconnect- ed, fragmentary thoughts, upon the current of which there rose continual- ly the realization, only half under- |stood that he started out to search the world for this woman, and he had found her. “I thought you’d hand me over to the sheriff,” she told him, between banter and deflance. “They say you couldn’t get a con- viction on anything short of cattle stealing in this part of the country, and doubtful on that. But I wouldn’t give you over to the sheriff, Miss Next day, and the one following, he passed in the blazing sun, but nobody came to cut the fence. At night he went down, rode his horse to water, turned him to graze, and went back to his perch among the ants and lizards €3 top of t™e butte. The third day was cloudy and un- eventful; on the fourth, a little be- fore nine, just when the sun was squaring off to shrivel' him in his skin, Lambert saw somebody coming from the dire¢tion of Kerr’s ranch. The rider made straight for the hill below Lambert’s butte, where he reined before reaching the top, di mounted and went crawling to th& fringe of sage at the farther rim of the bare summit. Lambert waited until the fellow mounted and rode toward the fence, then he slid down the shale, starting Whetstone from his doze. Lambert calculated that he was more than a mile from the fence. He wanted to get over there near enough to catch the fellow at work, so there tended to do. Lambert cut down the distance be- tween them rapidly, and was not more than three hundred yards be- hind when the fellow began snipping the wire with a pair of nippers that glittered in the sun. Lambert held his horse back, ap- proaching with little noise. The fence-cutter was rising back to the saddle after cutting the bottom wire of the second panel when he saw that he was trapped. Just a moment the fence-cutter hesitated, making ' no movement to pull a gun, then he seemed to decide in a flash that he could not escape the way that he had come. He leaned low over his horse’s neck, as if he expected Lambert to begin shooting, rode through the gap that he had cut in the fence, and galloped swiftly in- to the pasture. Lambert followed, sensing the scheme at a glance. It did not take them long to finish the three-mile race across the pasture, and it turned out in the end exactly as Lambert thought it would. When the fugitive came within a few rods of the fence he looked back to see how closely he was pressed, which was very close in- deed. The fellow rode at the fence as if he intended to try to jump it. ‘His horse balked at the barrier, turned, raced along it, Lambert in close pur- suit, comin_ alongside him as he was reaching to draw his pistol from the a tree upon the back of an enormous iion, hungry and spoiling for fight. The ensuing battle is one of the most tbrilling episodes in a gorgeously ex- citiing photoplay, shown at the Palace Thursday, Friday and Saturday. A new Keith vaudeville bill starts Thursday for *the balance of the week, and features four headliners. would be justification for what he in- think it. Kerr, even if I cavght you driving a cow.” “What would you do?” she asked, ignoring the fact that he had guessed her identity. “I'd try to argue you out of the cow first, and then teach you better,” he said. “If you owned this ranch, Mr. “Lambert is my name, Miss Kerr.” “If you owned it, Mr. Lambert I believe we .could live in peace, even if you kept the fence. But with that girl—it can’t be done.” “Can’t we patch up a truce between us for the time I'm here?” “You haven’t got anything to do with it—you're only a fence-rider. The fight’s between me and that girl, and T'll cut her fence—I'll cut her heart out if she gets in my road!” “Well, I'm going’ to hook up this panel,” he said, leaning and taking hold of the wire end, “so you can come here and let it down any time vou feel like you have to cut the fence. That will do us about the same dam- age and you every bit as much good.” “This fence isn’t any joke with us, Mr. Lambert, funny as you seem to It's more than a fence, it's a symbol of all that stands between us, all the wrongs we've suffered, and the losses, on account of it. I know it makes her rave to cut it, and I expect you'll have a good deal of fix- ing to do right along.” He made no movement to dmgoum and hook up the cut wires, b@l sat looking after her as she grew smaller between him and the bill. He did not ‘hear the approach of a horse on the slope of the rise until its quickened pace as it reached ‘the top brought Vesta Philbrook suddenly into his view. “Who'1s that?” she asked, ignoring his salutation in her excitement. “I think it must be Miss Kerr; she belongs to that family, at least.” “You caught her cutting fence?” “Yes, I caught her at it.” “And you let her get away?” “There wasn’t much else I could do,” he returned, with thoughtful gravity. | Thal was the one taunt needed to set offf the slow magazine of Vesta Philbrgok’s wrath. She cut her horse & sharp blow with her quirt k up the pursuit so quickly ambert could not interpose pbjection or entreaty. bert gave Whetstone the reins ed after Vests, who was al- the hill: Aywed was out of sight when the Capitol Park WETHERSFIELD AVE., SN Roseland WEDNESDAY NIGHT. BATTLE OF MUSIC RAPP’S FAMCUS ORCHESTRA HARTFORD AND -OLCOTT’S ORCHESTRA - OF NEW BRITAIN. of stunted Lrushwood in the winding dry valley beyond. He pushed after them, his anxiety increasing, hoping that he might overtake Vesta before she came within range of her enemy. So for three miles or more in a dusty, headlong race, coming then to the rim of a bowl-like valley and the sound of running shots. Lambert's heart contracted in paroxysm of fear for the lives of both those flaming combatants as he rode precipitately into the little val- ley. The shooting had ceased when he came into the clear and pulled up to look for Vesta. The next second the two girls swept into sight. Vesta had not only overtaken her enemy, but had ridden around her and cut off her retreat. She was driving her back toward the spot where Lambert stood, shooting at her as she fled, with what seemed to him a cruel and deliberate hand. e e Vesta was too far behind the other girl for anything like accurate shoot- ing with a pistol, but Lambert feared that a chance shot might hit. Now the Kerr girl had her gun out, and had turned, offering battle. She was still a considerable distance be- \vond him, with what appeared from his situation to be some three or four hundred yards between the combat- ants, a safe distance for both of them if they would keep it. But Vesta had no intention of making it a long- range duel. She pulled her horse up, and reloaded. her gun. then spurred ahead, holding her fire. Lambert saw all this as he swept down between them like an eagle, old Whetstone hardly touching the ground. He cut the line between them not forty feet from the Kerr girl’s position, as Vesta galloped up. Vesta waved him aside, her face white as ash; and attempted to dash by. He caught her rein and whirled her horse sharply, bringing her face to face with him, her revolver lifted not a yard from his breast. He twisted in his saddle and commanded the Kerr girl with a swing of the arm to Zo. She started her horse in a bound. and again Vesta lifted her gun as Lambert, with a quick movement, clasped her wrist. “For God's sake, Vesta, Jkeep your soul clean!” he said. His voice was vibrant with a deep earnestness that made him as solemn as a priest. She stared at him with widening eyes, something in his man- ner and voice that struck to reason through the insulation of her anger. Her fingers relaxed on the weapon; she surrendered it into his hand. “Let me take you home, Vesta,” he said. They rode back to the fence with- out a word between them. When they came to the cut wires Vesta stopped. “Did you know her before you came here? she asked with much abruptness. “No. I never knew her.” “I thought maybe you'd met her. she’s been away at school somewhere —Omaha, I think. Were you talking to her long?” “Only a little while. I got her to half agree to a truce,” said he, re- luctantly, his eyes studying the ground, “but I guess it's all off now.” She looked toward the place where she had lately ridden through the fence in vengeful pursuit of her ene- my, her eyes inscrutable, her face sad. “I never felt it so lonesome out here as it is today,” she said, and turned her horse, and left him. Lambert had a feeling of security for his line of fence as he rode home on the evening of his adventurous day. He had pieced the wire and had left a note pinned to it reminding Grace Kerr of his request that she ease her spite by unhooking it there instead of cutting it in a new place. He also added the information that he would be there on a certain date to see how well she carried out his wish. He had some necessary purchases to make in Glendora and after sup- per he set out on his errand. At the hotel, where he stopped to buy a cigar, he heard from Wood a bit of news that disturted him. Sim Hargus, Nick’s half brother, only two weeks ‘out of the pen, where he had been imprisoned for cattle stealing in Wyoming, was back at his old job as foreman for Berry Kerr, and was boasting that he would run the Duke out of the country. Lambert made his various pur- chases, tied the package to his saddle and set out on the homeward road, ruminating on the new trouble that had been laid ou" for him. Ahead a little way, the branched ‘at the point of the hill leading to the Philbrook house. His road lay to the right of the jutting plowshare of hill which seemed shaped for the mere purpose of split- ting the highway. The other branch led to Kerr's ranch, and beyond. As the horse 'trotted on, Lambert made. out something lying in the road which looked at that distance, like the body of a man. Closer approach oroved this to be the case, indeed. Whether the man was alive or dead, it was impossible to determine from the saddle, but he lay in a huddled heap as if he had been thrown from a horse, his hat in the road some feet beyond. Dismounting, Lambert the man in the road. He could see the fellow’s shoulder move as he breathed and straightened up with a greeping of apprehension that this might be a trap to draw him into just such a situation as he found himself that moment. 1 road bent over (Continued in tomorrow's Herald.) MON. TUES. ‘WED. ALICE JOYCE IN THE SCARAB RING “SWEETHEARTS"” I A condensed musical comedy in three scenes, retaining all of its claborate eémbellishments abbreviated form. JACK CAHILL, DON ROMINE in its INMAN & LYONS ETHEL LEVY TRIO DAILY FASHION SERVICE l\iorthcliffe Revives the Polka-Dot! BY MARIAN HALE New York, Aug. 10.—“What is polka dot and why is a polka-dot; querjes Lord Northcliffe, the British publisher. And the fashion opportunists right on the dot to tell him! If you walk up the New York streets past the gown shops you think at first your eyes are affected, with these black spots dancing before them. It's whispered that haberdashers are going to get out a new polka dot tie called ‘““The Northcliffe.”” Why? Well, just because someone admired Lord Northcliffe’s polka dot tie and told him so. Northcljffe said he had never heard of ‘“‘polka’dot’’ and would like to have the term explained. That was enough for the fashion peo- ple! Style opportunists flourished years ago just as they do today. For years ago when the Bohemian peasant danc. called the polka was the rage in the old world as well as the new, President Polk was president of the United States. An enterprising manufacturer got out a new style of silk, a fabric with con- trasting dots upon it. Immediately the new fabric, worn by the fashionables who were dancing the polka became known as the polka- dot. ’ Polka-dotted. materials have been much in vogue this summer but they are better than ever now, thanks to Northcliffe's interest in them! In voile, georgette, swiss and silks the polka dot is very smart for afternoon as well as street dresses. Dark blue, black and brown with white dots are the most popular combinations though light a are backgrounds with dark dots are alsol good. BY ARTHUR SCOTF BAILEY - BURIED TREASURE. Henrietta Hen, who was one of the busiest busybodies on the farm, came along and stood and watched old dog Spot while he dug and scratched and howled about the woodpile. “What on earth is the matter with sou?” she asked him. “I don’'t make half that fuss when I've just laid an 2gg and really have ‘something to cackle about.” “I've no time to talk with you now,” Spot told Henrietta Hen. “Can’t you see. that Johnnie Green and I It was a choice bone are moving the woodpile?” “Why are you doing that?” Henri- etta inquired. ““There’s something beneath it that I want,” he said hurriedly. Henrietta Hen gave a sudden start. “I wonder if it's a weasel,” she exclaimed. And since he didn’t reply, and she had learned to be mortally afraid of weasels, she ran off squawk- g, to hide high up in the haymow in the barn. Johnnie Green hadn’t carried away much more of the woodpile when old | dog Spot began to dig furiously in the dirt. And in a few seconds’ time he unearthed a big bone. It was a choice bonme. He had buried it several days before. And when he came back from the woods and found a woodpile on top of the place where he had hidden it, it was no wonder he had made such a howdy-do. Johnnie Green looked much up- set as he stogd stock still and saw Spot trot awa$ with the bone in his mouth. “So that was what he "was after all the time,” he cried at last. I hoped it was a muskrat.” His father - and the laughed @nd laughed. “I don’t see any joke,” Johnnie grumbled. “Here.I've piled up wood enough in the shed to last a month. And I might have been fishing all the time.” “Well,” said his fault was it?” “Old Spot's, Johnnie replied. “I don'tysec how you can blame him,”, sai armer Green. “‘Suppose you had buried a piece of strawberry shortcake here, expecting to eat it for your dinner. And suppose there wasn't another piece as’good—or as big—to be had ‘anywhere. And sup- pose you had come back from a tramp in the woods, hungry as well hungry as you were thise noon. Wouldn't you want tkat piece of shortcake? If you could get old Spot to move the wood off it, wouldn't you be glad to have him do it?"” ““Maybe!” Johnnie admitted. “May- be! But Spot wasn't after a piece of strawberry shortcake. He was after an old bone. And he fooled me.” “I should say that you fooled yourself,” his father retorted. “Any- how, we're going to have strawberry shortcake for supper tonight. I heard your mother say so. And she made a special cake for you.” That news made Johnnie Green look a good deal less gloomy. In fact he almost smiled. “I was going to give you that old fishing red of mine if wyou'd help carry in the wood,” Farmer Green went on. “And you could take it now and go fishing, if vou thought you could be home in time for supper.” “Hurrah!” Johnnie Green sudden- ly jumped up and down. ‘“Hurrah!” he cried. ‘An. thank you very much!” And when, an hour later, old Spot came swimming across the creek and joined Johnnie on the further bank, and shook drops of water all over his young master, Johnnie Green only patted him and called him’a “good old fellow.” (Copyright 1921 by Metropolitan Newspaper Service.) hired man father. “‘whose I should think.” INTRODUCING “MONA LISA” She’s queen of her class. show at Long Branch, N. J. calls her “Champion Monte Carlo Mona Lisa.”” ShSe was judged the best bull at the dog M. Rossner, of New “York, owns her, He