New Britain Herald Newspaper, August 15, 1921, Page 4

CARDINAL MERCIER AT LOUVAIN e Louvain is being restored with contributions from 33 nations. Here Cardinal Mercier is blessing the cornerstone of the new university library. Raymond Poincare, fornier president of France, King ‘Albert and Queen Elizabeth attended the ceremonies. sented \the United States. Dr. Nicholas Murray ‘Butler repre- ; HOLDING A HUSBAND Adele Garrison’s New Phase of Revelations of a Wife What is Father Spencer’s Important Mission? In my father's appear- ance as he walked toward us made me look at him ecuriously, brought back vividly to me the days when 1 had first seen him, not knowing that there was any tie of blood between us Something Then he had been called “the Quester of Broadway,” a mysterious melancholy, yet ~commanding figure, which' much (ntrigued the interest of that volatile thoroughfar€ That his constant, iconscience-stricken quest had been for 'me, whom, as well as my mother he had deserted when 1 was byg 4 vears old for the lure of another woman, 1, had long ago learned from his ofyn lips. That be- neath his mask of 'the polished, dilet- tante man of wealth he at that time had been a-dominant figure in his country's secret diplpmatic service, 1 knew from Allen Drdke and Lillian Underwood. Illness and fingncial misfortune had come to him during the stressful days when in a {South American country he had srdppled with and frustrated a plot \which menaced the very heart of cthe gov- ernment. # In the years since 1 had become ac- customed to think of him as a gentle, somewhat broken figure, who had lost most of his wealth and whose prestige was but a memory. But during the few months preceding the sale of the Marvin house 1 had been consvious that, with a distinct im- provement in his physical healtk, had come a rejuvenation of his mind and spirit—that he was becoming onc¢e, again a figure with which to reckon. And his mien now was that of a dominant, poised personality, perfectly conscious of its own power. - PA Message—" ° At any time during the years he has lived with me I would have run to him, at a sudden unexpected ap- pearancé such as the one he had just made, asking what he wished. But there was something vague, clusive about himy something that seemed to sct him apart and make his less my father than a man-who- must-be-obeyed. Therefore, I walked sedately to.meet him, evincing no icuriosity as to his errand. “Ah! Daughter, dear! Enjoying the new place, I see.” His voice was as calm and unhurried as if he had just stepped over to view our hap ness in our new home. His very leisureliness made me suspect that something momentous was on foot, for I have seen in him and his co-worker, Allen Drake, the same tendency to affect deliberation ni a in muscles for the effort ahead of them. “Just looking over my new studio Dad.” Dicky indicated the corncrib with a gesture, 'Glancing at him. I saw that behind his careless expres- sion his eyes were watching niy father intently, and I realized that he shard my intution as to the im- portance of my father's errand. “Ah! Yes. It ought to make good one,” my father replied. ““Will it interrupt you too much if I ask you to run me over to-Speonk? I find I can get a train from.there at four o'clock, and I wish to get to New York as soon as possible. 1 have had & message which demands mmediate attention.” An Embarrassing Offer. I looked at my watch and made 1 mental calculation. If I accom- lished the trip without speeding I hould have to start at once. The hought of Grace Draper’s letter ob- sessed me. Woul@ there be a chance o mail it? Suppose there were an wdidént to the car and I was de- ayed in getting back? 1 assured my father that I could make the trip with him if we started immediately, then turned to Dicky and spoke without reflection: “‘Better come with us, and then you can mail that letter at Spenok.” “What letter?” Dicky demanded quickly, with an edge to his voice that brought me up standing mental- ly. With a furtive glance I saw that with an adroit movement he had turned my father to enable him to glare at me significantly. “Why, the letter that—" but Dicky interrupted me. “To the insurance agent in Mar- vin " asked Dicky with well-simu- lated indifference. “I had forgotten speaking about it. Sure, I'll bring it. But we’d better start pronto if we're going to make Speonk by four. You're all ready to go, aren't you Madge? We had gas, water and oil put in this morning, so the car is all right.” Very well,” my father assented. “We will start at once then. My bag is already packed, and we can,pick it up as we go past the farmhouse. I will not say good-by to Junior for fear of his crying. Try to keep him from fretting for me. I may be gone quite a long time. At the least will be two months before I return* There was depression in his voice, but none in his manner. I guessed that his idolizing love for Junior and me was tugging against his getting out into the world again. He spoke very little on our run Speonk, but when he kissed me gond- a tered a sentence that started us both: “3 moment of great stress. It was as if they paused and flexed their mental to you,” he said. i) ) - TUnless otherwiwe noted. these aotices are written by the press urcaus of the theater or attractions with which they Aeal NEV HAVEN WOMAN DROWNED AT BEACH. New Haven, Aug. 15.—Mrs. Minnie Eichorn of this city was drowned yesterday, afterncon at Prospect Beach, after she had been trapped by an incoming tide. Her sister, Mrs. Lawrence Maher; ‘dnd her 10-years- old son were rescued by men who put out from the shore in a rowboat, after they had heard their ‘cries. ~ Mrs. Elchiorn leaves a husband and two i ¥ AT THE LYCEU Kenneth Harlan will picture of the latest calibre, Honor and Obey." lan in pictures. gram il consist acts: Jeanette's Monkeys; Trio; Billy Andrews; Leanord & Smythe. of interest will w Homer Sister: joy at to by and wrung Dicky's hand he ut- can mail that letter for you in New York if it will be of any service appear in a “Love This picture has made the reputation of Kenneth Har- The vaudeville pro- of the following Bohemian Other pictures balance up the pro- gl S NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, MONDAY, AUGUST 15, “THE DUKE Jim Wilder, a cowboy who is not too popular on the range, thinking that Jeremiah Lambert, a peddler, who rode into camp on a bicycle, was a green tenderfoot, offered him his own ~horse, whicn was somewhat of an outlaw, if he could ride it. Lam- bert, who formerly broke range horses for a living at the Chicago stock yards,’ rode the animal without diffi- culty, whereupon Wilder, 'who was only bluffing, attempted to take back his horse. In the fignt which ensued, Lambert is cut. but not seriously, with a knife wielded by Wilder. Tha lat- ter's knife iz taken from him by a shot by Wilder, who fleea from camp. Lambert gave chase, returning at dusk leading Wilder's horse. There waa blood on the empty saddle. Lambert, now . known a3 “The Duke of Chimney Butte,’ makes a new record in the little town by racing hir horse against the flyer, overtak- ing tho 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 hanagerchiet, 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 handkerchiet. They find Miss Vesta in not tHe 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 ad fast as she can repair them. Duke and Taterleg of- fer to work for her and put a stop to this practice it they can. A ranch- er named Kerr is the worst offender. One night Duke finds the fence cut and a note fastened to tha wires which reads: “Why don’t you come and get me Duke?” He vowed he would. He did. He gave chase the mext time he saw someone cutting the fence and was astonished to find— not a cowboy but Kerr's daughter, who turned out to be the girl of the Pullman. He makes a truce with her. Lambert is caught in the trap and bezoms the prisoner of Karr and severa]l others. He is turned loose with a warning to glear out of tH¥ country. but bolts and gets back to the Philbrook ranch. Vesja tells Duke she is going to leave the coun- try in order to end the trouble ani strife. Duke takes charge of the ranch while she is gone and pro- poses to raise shéep instead of cat- tle. That night he rides out to keep a rendezvous with Grace Kerr. He is very much: surprised when Grace asks him to lend her 500 head of Miss "Philbrook’s cattle for one day only. He learns later that Kerr has mortgaged 500 head of cattle more than he owns and that there.is a warrant out for his arrest. Lambert in sworn in as a deputy by the sheriff to help arest Kerr. Kerr evades the sheriff while Lambert is led into am- bush by Grace who shoots his horses and rides off with a mocking laugh. Several weeks later Lambert goes to Chicago with a carload of cattla to sell for Vesta. While there he saw Kerr in dis- guise. Recollecting that he had the warrant in his pocket for Kerr and that he was duly sworn as a deputy sherift, Lambert arrests him and takes him back. At the station*®he finds the sheriff, to whom he has wired, failed to appear, but a gang ot outlaws led by Grace Kerr, attack Lambert and his prisoner in an at- tempt to rescue the later. Nearer approach identified the be- lated sheriff. He shouted a warning to Lambert as he jerked his gun down and fired. Tom Hargus rose from be- hind the rain barrel, staggered into the road, going like a drunken man, his hat in one hand, the other pressed to his side, his head hanging, his long hair falling over his bloody face. In a second Lambert saw this, and the shouting, shooting officer bearing toward him. He had the peculiar im- pression that the sheriff was sub- merged in water, enlarging grotesque- ly as he approached. The slap of another bullet on his back, and he turned to see Grace Kerr firing at him with -only the width of the plat- form between them. It was all smoke, dust, confusion around him, a sickness in his body, a dimness in his mind, but he.was con- scious of her horse rearing, lifting its feet high—one of them -a white- stockinged foot, as he marked with painful precision—and falling back- ward in a clatter of shod hoofs on the railroad. When it cleared a little Lambert found the sheriff was on the ground beside him, supporting him with his arm, looking into his face with con- cern almost comical, speaking in anxious inquiry. “Lay down over there on the plat- form, Duke, you're shot all to pieces,” he said. Lambert sat on the edge of the plat- form and the world receded. When he felt himself sweep back to conscious- ness there were people about him, and he was stretched on his back, a feel- ing in his nostrils as it he breathed fire. Somebody was lying across from him a little way: he struggled with painful effort to lift himself and see. It was Grace Kerr. Her face wa: white in the midst of her dark hair, she was dead. CHAPTER IX. Emoluments and Rewards. van, some weeks fight at Glendora. after winter in the sharp wind. was gray Wwith the threat of snow range was at hand. cowboy named Spence, who in turn is Lambert and Taterleg were on their way home from dclivering calves and the cleanup of the herd to Pat Sulli- Lambert's There was frost on the grass that morning, a foretaste of The sky the somper season of hardship on the Lambert thought as he read these signs, that it would be a hard winter on live-:dispose of and settled,” stock in that unsheltered country, and | plied. was comfortable in mind over the 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 Saturday's Herald.) profitable outcome of his dealings for | his employer. As for himself, his great plans were at an end on th: Bad Lands range. The fight at Glendora had changed all that. The doctor had warned him that he must not attempt another winter in the saddle with that tender Spot in his lung, his blood thinned gown that way, his flesh soft from be- ing house-bound for nearly six weeks. He advised a milder climate for sev- eral months of recuperation, and was very grave in his advice. So the sheep scheme was put aside. The cattle being sold, there was noth- ing about the ranth that old Ananias could not . do, and Lambert had planned to'turn his face again toward the West. He could not lie around there in the bunkhouse and grow strong at Vesta's expense, although vc.lhat Wwas what she expected him to o. Vesta had said nothing further of her own plans, but they took it for granted that.she would be leaving, now that the last of the cattle were sold. -Ananias had told them that she was putting things away in the house, getting ready to close most of it up. “Do you reckon she'll ever come back to the ranch any more when she goes away?” Taterleg asked as fhey neared the ranch. } “What?" said Lambert, starting as if he had been asleep. “Vesta; do you reckon she'll come back any more?" “Well,” slowly, thoughtfully, “‘there’s no tellin’, Taterleg.” Tatcrleg seemed deeply; serious. “Purty girl,” he said in a pleasant voice of musing. “Which one?” “Vesta. I like 'em with a little more of a figger, a little thicker in some places and wider in others, but she’s trim and she's tasty, and her neart's pure gold.” “You're right it is, Taterleg,’ Lam- oert agreed, keeping his eyes straight ahead as they rode on. “You're aimin’ to come back in the 'spring and go pardners with her on 'the sheep deal, ain’'t you, Dick?"” “I don’t expect I'll ever come back, Taterleg.” ‘“Well,” said Taterleg abstractedly, “I don't know.” So they arrived at the ranch from «heir last expedition together. Lam- bert gave Taterleg his horse to take to the barn, while he stopped in to deliver Pat Sullivan's check to Vesta and straighten up the final business, and tell her good-bye. Lambert took off his hat at the door and smoothed his hair with his palm, tightened up his necktie, looked aimself over from chest to toes, He drew a deep breath then, like a man lortifying himself for a trial that called for the best that wds in him to come forward. He knocked on the Jdoor. Vesta came to the door herself, ~ith such promptness that seemed to cell she must have been near it from the moment his foot fell on the porch. ¥ “I've come to settle up with you on our last deal, Vesta,” he said. “You mean our latest deal, not our last, I hope, Duke,” she said, sitting at the table, with him at the head of it like a baron returning to the lreside after a foray in the fleld. “I'm afraid it will be our last. I'm soing away,” he-said, looking out of the ‘window down upon the tops of the baked cottonwoods along the river. “I will be so lonesome here on the ranch without you, Duke—lonesome as it never was lonesome before. You've been square with me on every- thing, from the biggest to the least. [ never knew betore what it was to lie down in security and get up in {peace. You've fought and suffered for me here in a measure far in ex- cess of anything that common loy- alty demanded of you, and I've given you nothing in return. It will be like losing my right hand, Duke, to see you go.” “I thought with you gone away, old half invalid might pick up and get some blood put into him again.” “You came out of the desert as if God <ent you, when my load was heavier than I could bear. It will be like losing my right eye, Duke, to see you go.” “A man couldn’t sit around and eat out of a woman's hand in idleness and ever respect himself any more. My work’s finished—"" “All I've got is yours—you saved it to me, you brought it home. “The world ,expects a man that hasn't got anything to go out and make it before he turns around and looks—before he lets his tongue be- tray his heart and maybe be mis- understood by those he holds most dear.” “It's none of the world’'s business —there isn't any world but ours!"” “I hought with you gone away, Vesta, and the house dark nights, and me not hearing you round any more, it would be so lonesome and bleak here for an old half invalid— “I wasn't going. I couldn’'t have been driven away! I'd have staved as long as you stayed, till you found —till you knew! Oh, it will tear— tear—my heart—my hear out of—my breast—to see you go!" P ever to be his.face was thinking sentimentally Taterleg came over and gave Lambert stcamboat song when Lambert went down to the bunkhouse an hour be- fore sunset. There was an aroma of coffee mingling with the strain: Oh, T bet my money on a bob-tail hoss, An’ a hoo-dah, an’ a hoo-dah; I bet my money on a bob-tailed hoss, An’ a hoo-dah bet on the bay. Lambert smiled, standing beside the door until Taterleg had finished. Taerleg came over and gave Lambert a questioning look up and down. It took you a long time to settle p,” he said. !:Yes. . There was considerable to Lambert re- “Wall. T supbose. now, you and me 1921. DAILY FAGHION SERVICE | UNEVEN IS THE HEM THAT TRIMS THE GOWN! BY MARIAN HALE. New York, Aug. 15.—Uneven is the hem that trims the gown. Even more classical than the para- phrase, are the lines of the new gowns. Hems are so careless of the hori- zontal line that at first glance it looks as though the old days of hang- ing a skirt perfectly even were over. Instead, the artistic abandon of these uneven hems is painfully accurate in its inaccuracy! It's because of the graceful draperies used in the new autumn gowns that the hems of old have been abandoned. Side drapes of soft: material fall sometimes to the ankles, while the skirt itself reaches even above the eight- inches-from-the-ground limit. Gowns with drapes in the back and the front show the skirt short at the sides. Where an all around even hem is effected, you may count on a decided transparency in the material. This shows—well more than a silhou- ette, below the heavier part of the skirt, which reaches about ten inches from the ground, In evening gowns, the long effect is graceful in its soft draperies as it falls on the ground partly covering—oh yes, sometimes a very short skirt! Generally the evening gown, with its long train—like drape, is no more than seven inches off the ground. Anyway the broken hem lipe is the thing in the new autumn gowns wheth- er they follow the classical, the me- dieval or the just common twentieth century standard. will be hittin’ the breeze away from here most any day. “No. Changed my mind; I'm going to stay.” “Goin’ in pardners with Vesta!" .“‘Pardners.” THE END. BY SISTER MARY There are more ways than one to cook a young chicken; and while frying seems to be the most popular, it is per- haps the most difficult. Fried chicken much be watchéd constantly for the danger ,of burning is great if cooked over gas. To fry a chicken and have it perfectly cooked all through requires skill and patience. Also a very intim- ate knowledge of the chicken, a chicken more than three months old is too tough o0 fry well. Chicken a la Nancy Cut the chicken in joints and split the breast in two or four pieces, de- pending on the size. Put in a sauce pan and just cover with boiling wa- ter. Boil fivé minutes after the wa- ter bubbles. Drain and save broth. Roll each piece of chicken in flour, sprinkle with salt and pepper and fry in equal parts of lard and butter. Brown first on one side and then the other. The frying pan should have a close fitting cover. Put chicken on hot platter and Kkeep in a warm place while making gravy. Rub flour in the fat in the frying pan and add the chicken broth slowly, stirring constantly. Stir the flour and fat over the fire until it is quite brown before adding the broth. A chicken cooked sure to be tender and juicy and gravy is unusually good. Smothered Chicken. Cut chicken in joints and split the breast. Roll in flour, sprinkle with salt and pepper and brown quickly in as much butter as your conscience permits and lard. When nicely brown- ed on all sides put in roaster. Add enough boiling water to half cover and roast about an hour oven. on the this *way is the in a moderate Chicken With Rice. One chicken, 2 tablespoons butter, 2 onions, 1 tablespoon curry powder, 1 teaspoon ground garlic, peppers, plain boiled rice. Cut chicken in joints. Melt butte and add onions sliced very thin. Fiy to a light brown. Add curry powder and garlic and cook a minute longer Roll chicken in flour, add salt and add to first mixture. Stir the onions up from the bottom, cover tightly and cook for three minutes. Remove cover and pour over 1 cup boiling water. Put on the cover and simme. for ten minutes. " Then remove the cover and cook until the meat is tender. Add the peppers which have been seeded and parboiled and cut in shréds for the last twenty minutes cooking. Serve on boiled rice. (Copyright 1921 by Newspaper Enter- prise). —DENTISTS— A. B. Johnson, D. D. S. T. R. Johnson, D. D. S. National Bank Bldg. GAS and OXYGEN ADMINIST A. PINKUS Reg. Optometrist. Accuracy, Courtesy. Quality Service. “See Us and See Right.”” 306 MAIN ST. TED. 570. LYCEUM THEATER —NOW PLAYING— Jeanettes Monkeys Bobemian Trio Homer Slsters 2 green P Leonard & Smythe Billy Andrews e . KENNETH HARLAN in “LOVE, HONOR AND OBEY” ————— e TIME CTrademens Meyistered DROPPING HINTS. On the table in the kitchen of the farmhouse was a leg of mutton. Farmer Green had leit it there and gone away. And Mrs. Green had stepped out of the kitchen—nobody knew for how long. At least old dog Spot and Miss Kitty Cat didn't know. They were left there in the kitchen alone—alone wih the leg of mutton. “Ahem!” said Miss Kitty Cat old dog Spot. to “Don’t you think you'd 0 “I'm comfortable here. thank gour Spot answered better go and see what's become Farmer Green?” She was unusually pleasant for her. As a rule she had little to say to Spot, except to scola at him. “I'm comfortable here, thank you,” Spot answered. “Farmer Green must be out of sight by this time. So I won't bother to chase after him.” “Ysu could smell out his track, couldn’t you?” Miss Kitty Cat sug- gested. “Perhaps!” said Spot. “Perhaps! But as I said, I'm comforable here. I'm going to stay right here in the kitchen.” Out of the corner of his eye he looked at Miss Kitty Cat. He could see that she was somewhat dis- pleased by something or other. Her tail was beginning to swell slightly. And that was a sure sign that she was loging her temper. But when she spoke again her voice was as weet as honey. “What a beautifu! day o go hunt- ing!” she remarked as she sprang nto a chair beside the window and looked out. “The woods must be of said Spot dryi - went hunting early’ this morning: and here was plenty of game then.” “Ha!" Miss Kitty exclaimed sud- denly. “Do I hear the cows in the cornficld 2" Now, Spot loved to drive the cows >ut of the corn. But for wonder he never even moved an ear. “I hope the sheep crambled over the stonewall Kitty Cat mewed. “If they have, Tarmer Green would want you to et them back- into the pasture for him.” Yes!” said Spot with a yawn. “I'm sure ne would. And if he needs me he knows where he can find me.” Miss Kity Cat's tail was growing bigger every moment. And the fur on her back was beginning to stand M end. Still she managed to speak in her very softest voice. *“Did you know—'" she inquired— id_you know that Johnnie Green haven’t ILEY: had gone swimming in the mill pond 2" No!" said Spot. “Has he? he’ll have a good time. I h.,d!lh::: swim yesterday in Black Creek. And T almost caught a muskrat there. As he spoke he rose and walked across the big, squars kitchen and stretched himself out on-the floor right in front of the table.where the leg of mutton lay. . At that Miss Kitty Cat gave a ter- rible cry of rage. J “I know why you won’t 3 kitche: she yowled. "Yol:‘ :.h::; I'm going to eat some of that mut- ton. And that's why you've Ilain down alongside it.” (Copyright 1921 by The Metropolitan Newspaper Service). Tombrrow-——Mrs. Green Makek a Mistake. ~She Sends Spot Out-of -the Kitchen. ) PALACE| Monday, Tuesday, Weduesday KEITH VAUDEVILLE Featuring Max Ford of the famous folr dancing Fords. —and— MILLE. VICTORINE ©O. in a = Classy song and damce revue. Bryant & Stewart Guaranteed Laugh Makers. EUGENE & FINNEY CRONIN & HART CONSTANCE TALMADGE ta “MAMMA’S AFFAIR" HARTFORD . WH Today—Continuous MR. GEORGE ARLISS In His Greatest Stage Success “THE DEVIL" Jay Velie & Girls, Blackface Eddie Ross, Jack Gregory & Co., Howard & Norwood, James & Etta Mitchell. || SEE FRANK E. GOODWIN TO SEE Registercd Optometrist 327 MAIN ST. TEL. 1905 15 Years Optical Experience. Starting Tomorrow “Cap’n Jonah’s Fortune” By JAMES A. COOPER A Story of the Sea and Its Followers. A $1.50 Novel free with the Herald for a week. — DON'T MISS IT —