New Britain Herald Newspaper, July 28, 1926, Page 10

Quicksands of Love Adele Garrison’s New Phase of Revelations of a Wife —— What is Disturbing Dicky’s Peace of Mind? Lillian was back at the apartme wo early in the morning after causeless fright over Junior that she arrived before Dicky had finished his breakfast For pick in th emead- aws!” he exclaimed, “look at the little stranger who has just strayed into our midst. If anybody had asked me what you were this hour, I'd have sworn o of seyen Bibles that you pounding your pillow. T never kr you to crawl out befor before unless there was a fire ebody dea i Lillian (sadly “I'm up|{own |surdly like anticipation, which made |me remember suddenly the many little economies she was practicing. our I had surmised the reason for her thrift, her ambition to have a real {home ready for her idolized daughter |upon her first long vacation from |school. But surely she was too sen- |sible to practice her economy at the |expense of nourishing food. Yet the gusto with which she attacked the eggs and the waffles which Katie brought in to her was that of a per- son who had breakfasted insuffi- |ciently. T resolved to keep an Lillian, whose sanity, poise and rerosity make her a tower of to her friends, but who is in judgment as to her were' s strength needs. “Ede Will Telephone You.” “What's on your mind, Lil?" | Dicky asked as he finished his own |breakfast ess for Marion,” she replied, Or else you're ‘sickeningfor son hich I want Madge to help me thing' as Mother would say. It I know what I want for her the first sign of age or iliness when |in color and line, but Madge supplies anybody wakens early in the morn- |the style sense, and also the knowl- ing. All normal people have to be |edge of texture and quality which I dragged out by their pajama col- lar Madge Resolves to Watch Lill “That's a new test for noramlity, Lilllan commented acidly, “and you probably invented it because you knew you couldn’t pass any other. Oh! thank you, Katie,” as my little maid touched her on the shoulder and indicated a place which she had met at the table, a time-honored | practice whenever Lillian appears at meal-time. “T've breakfasted, but I | eouldn't resist a cup of your coffee | it I'd just come from a barbecue, Katle giggled delightedly. “I feex you sometings else, t0o,” #he sald as she dashed back to her kitchenette. “There's no use protesting,” T faughed before Lillian could speak. Tt will break Katie's heart if you don't eat what she brings. “Her heart will remain intact as far as T am concerned,” Lillian re- torted ,and there was something in- tangible in her intonation. an odd Uttle expression in her eyes, ab- declared with at five every mo Dicky looked at her ternaturally grave expression. “You're getting old, Lil” ) *That's what's the matter with a pre- e said vou. you're shopping ky said, and isappointed intonation in his voice | which made me look up quickly I “Why?” I asked. “Did you want me to do anything for you No-0,” he returned slowly. “Not exactly. And yet—when will you be back home again?” I looked at Lillian and sponse was prompt. “Oh! we'll be all through before lunch-time,” she said. “And yowll be home this noon?” Dicky asked. “So far as I know now,’ turned. He rose from |courteous word of apology to us, |stood for a second or two in ap- |parent indecision; then he spoke ab- | ruptly. “Well, phone | said. Copyright, Feature Service, going n her re- after- * I re- his chair with a Ede will tv you this afternoon,” probably tele- he 1926, by Newspaper Inc. wanted to look that clam over close to. So he reached out a paw to pull the clams toward him up on the sand. mind your | What happened then happened se |suddenly that for a minute or two Jimimy himself didn’t know what had happened. You see, one toe slipped in the opening of the shell and the clam promptly closed the two halves of the shell together. My ad a whole lot of ex. |800dness, how it did pinch that toe perfence. His very independence |°f Jimmy Skunk's! If you could often makes him careless. He seems |1ave seen him or heard him, you to fhink that because everyone fs |COrtainly would have thought that he afraid of him that he can go where | Va8 having a fit, or else had gone he pleases, when he pleases, how he |Quite crazy. That is what Mr. Reddy pleases. No one can do this, Even |F0X thought. He was own cousin to the. most independent will get into |Reddy Fox and he looked just like trouble sooner or later if they do not [Reddy Fox. He had once lived up watch their steps, on the highland, but he had dis- Fou will Tamembar |covered that it was an easier mat- Meadow Mouse had |ter to pick up a good living along the beach. So he had moved over |close to the beach and every night he went hunting along the edge of the marshes. Jg He happened along just as Jimmy |Skunk met with his accident, It was moonlight and he could see clearly. Jimmy Skunk 'was snarling and growling and acting as if he had {quite lost his head, which indeed he had. That is to say, he didn’t know |what he was doing. You see, he was |as much frightened as he was hurt, |for at first he dldn't realize -just what had happened. He thought he {had been caught in one of those |dreadful steel traps, which bring so much suffering to the little peopls |who wear fur. Mr. Fox hurried over to see what it was all about. “Why, it's nothing but a clam!” |said he. : | At that Jimmy Skunk stopped Skunk knew all about the clams that |dancing about. He stared at that Danny had learned about and I su- |clam. It was more round than long. spect that if you could have asked |Jimmy tried his teeth on it. That him what he knew about clams, he [Shell was so hard that Jimmy was would have told you that he knew |afraid he would break his teeth if he all about clams. But it doubtful if bit any harder. “I—I didn't know anyone knows all about anything. |What I'd caught,” he sald lamely, Jimmy found that 1 Tox began to laugh. “You he didn't Mr. all about clams. He was poking didn’t catch anything,” said he. “It around in the can see.” seaweed and looking gHL you so. Tat aa i for anything which appeared good (Then Mr. Fox, still chuckling, went to eat, when he found what he knew |Off about his own business. right away was a clam. It was dif-| Jimmy stopped dancing about and ferent from the clams he was used [Degan to think. He must get rid of to, but there could he no doubt that |that clam somehow. The question it was a clam. Tt was lying in some [Was how could he do it? His toe hurt V15 DIYTA Doied oF Aestes esides he couldn’t walk around 't long like the clams th: that clam with him. Jimmy was acquainted with. He 1926, by T. W. Burgess) noticed this righ ay and was in- R terested. The shell was partly open, | The but Jimmy didn’t notice this. He |Ge HEROWN WAY % a Girl of Today JOAN VISITS LELA Before | eak the Jimmy Skunk Gets a Toe Pinched By Thornton W. Burgess ! Guard your step and toes; wise goes, The ceps watch of where he —Jimmy Skunk. Jimmy Skunk ought _ to knm\.‘ Jimmy has that Danny learned some- ¥Why, it's nothing but a said he clam!” thing about clams. Now, Jimmy nd t | dragging (Copyright “Jimmy Skunk xt story: I'ree.” ymind as sghe followed me that T al- words [most wanted to laugi. were on her lips, 1| I mixed her up more than ever pul of the pl when she heard me order the’taxi will come |driver to go immediately to the Cen- tral Station. When we arrived there that, Judy?” [we found that were in luck, A pulling her- |very gallant desk sergeant gave us “That man pro- [the address we wanted immediately helped us if we |without having to disclose our wanted to find [names, To the officer I explained that we wanted to find out where Mrs. Barry | Cornwall that we were much {sho reading the news in |the morning papers, for we knew |that she must be in straitened cir- |cumstances as well as that she was going to have a baby. and wanted to help her all could. ¢ The officer gave us the address and we went directly to the place. n could s trembling d Thank th fairly her you, we gain, “Why did she asked im self away fro bably would had told him that we poor Barry's “Oh, Joan, Joan, what a trusting baby you are. That man’s one ob- ject in life at the present moment is to keep you from Lela until after he gets to her, and he probably would drive her to suicide if we don't see her first. We fairly ran to was waiting. Jvan looked o you do we my wife.” was, ked upon where the taxi we muddled in her eye there was a subtle | !al continues to suffer. |ifficult to treat succe NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, WEDNESDAY, JULY 28, 1926. We found poor Lela in a daze, She didn’t seem to have realized as yet what happened to her. Lela Cornwall was hardly more than a child and my heart went out |to her right away. “Poor things,” Joan whispered to me. “She and her husband were just like babes in the woods. And new that Barry 4s gone I don't know what Lela will do.”” “I do, my dear. Instead of mak- ing me your companion, you will imake her.” Joan looked at me startled. “But, Judy, she doesn't know any more than I, and T want to learn.” “Neither do I know any more than you, Joan,” I answered. “Don’t you |know it is much more pleasant to |teach some one than to be taught?” I went up toward the bed. Lela opened her eyes languidly. “Who are you, my dear?” asked, Copyright, 1926, t she A Service. TOMORROW A Real Friend. Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of Illness BY DR. HUGH §. CUMMING Surgeon General, United States Public Health Service The degree of pain experienced does not indicate the exetent of the bodily injury or derangement from which one may be suffering. There are many dangerous condi- tlons in which pain is either entirely nt or present to such an insig- |nificant extent as to be entirely mis- leading. Thus, there are sometimes light- ning-like attacks of appendicitis d vold of pain, increased temperature {or elevated pulse rate, though this is not the rule. Tuberculosis is fre- quently without pain, The pain sig- nal may be lacking in a very malig- nant case of diphtheria. The internal organs such as the stomach, heart and kidneys are poorly equipped for conveying pain signals. Therefore, in serious de- rangements of these organs pains is often lacking. Thus it will be seen that pain, while valuable as a signal when it | is present, may be entirely lacking in some very serious affections. Horw- ever, it should be remembered that many diseases begin with pain or have pain as a prominent symptom at some time during their course, Danger Signal Pain is often borne patiently in the hope of early amelioration, In- stead of heeding the danger signal and seeking relief at the hands of a competent physician, the individu- In the meantime, the disease, comparable to a slow-burning fire, | makes headway and becomes more sfully. Then too, many confuse pain with disease, thinking that they are well as soon as pain is relieved. This however, |may be a dangerous fallacy, es- |pecially since it is known that some of the more serious disease are not accompanied by pain. Pain is a device of nature which serves as a signal or warning of a condition requiring attention. A periodical physical examination is an efficient means of discovering the presence of those diseases which are not heralded by pain. FASHIONS By Sally Milgrim Complete Your Hot-Weather Ward- robe With a Picture Hat on Wide, Drooping Lines. The smartest hat for wear with a soft chiffon afternoon frock is a plcturesque affair with a close-fit- ting crown and a wide, drooping brim, considerably broader at the sides and front than in the back The popular millinery fabrics are milan, visca horsehair, balli-buntl and leghorn, Trimmings on hats of this char- | acter are amazingly shnple, a gros grain band, cocarde or d tive ornament of some kind taking the place of the elaborate flower and | sister, |with DERRICK JONES, |next door. A few |says he is Tony Gaines, |the READ THIS FIR MERRY LOCK as her nickname, She has no ambition ing a good time and beaux. At 20 she fails in her bustness college, to the appointment of MOMS tious mother. When dies she takes a job DALE'S beauty shop. At this time she is having the tirst love affair of her life. The man in the case is TONY GAINES, a serious young lawyer who wants to marry her. The engagement is brok- en when Merry goes out with other men, and Tony finds it out. Merry sends back his ring and soon after- ward she hears that he has gone to Montana to open a law office there. HELEN, the oldest of the Locke sisters, marries BILL H ahd has a baby. CASSIE, the oldest marries her rich employer. MORLEY KAUFMAN. They do not get along together, and are unbappy in spite of their money. Through Cassie, Merry meets BILL ERSKINE, a wary bachelon approaching middle age. H in love with her, sends her expen- sive presents, lends her money, but puts off the date for their wed- ding. Merry isn't in love with him. but she is very fond of him, and thinks he would make an excellent husband who could give her th kind of home she wants. During one of Bill's long absences in Flor ida, where his sick father lives. Merry goes out with CABBY MARSH, whom she met through Morley's sister, MURIEL, and Les Purcell, an old beau of her own. Les is salesman for a famous cold cream, and Lillie Dale. who has come to live with the Lockes. says she thinks he's married. Merry doesn’t helieve her. Moms begins to go out with MR. HEFFLINGER, who has rented Cassie’s old room in the house. JIN- XY, the youngest of the girls. elop lives when pretty and gay is a bor flirt. beyond h; plenty of at great dis her ambi- her fathe in LILLI course days late Merry returns from a ride with Les Purcell, a man calls her on the tele- phone, At first she thinks that he to stand still. “Tony?"” heart seems d to believe her ears. e asks, afr: |Then the voice repeats that it isn't Tony Gaines, but a friend of Tony Gaines, a man named B asks him to call her again in a fe minutes, and, stunned, sinks down into @ chair near the telephone. (NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY) CHAPTER XXXIX By the time the telephone rang again, Merry was cool calm. At least she was cool calm enough to ask Tony Ge friend to come to call. supposed that was what Tony pected her to do. But halfway up the stairs an other thought came to her Pe haps this Benson man ad some bell and and nes’ She ex- | message for her from Tony! Otherwise why would he have called her up, and be coming here |to see her tonight? off her hat beforé mirror of her dresser, her cheeks were pinker and her eyes brighter than the wind had made them all afternoon. Her yollow hair was crushed to her head in flat waves. She fluffed it out and ran down the stairs te the kitchen. “We're going to eat out here, if vou aren't too grand and high- lutin’ to do it Lillie said to er with a laugh, for they always had breakfast in the Kkitchen. She had laid their supper at one end of the kitchen table and was filling the water glasses at the sink, as she spoke. “It's all right with me. proud,” Merry answered She really liked to cat in the bi warm, cozy rtoom. For Moms kitchen, with its blue-and-white rag rugs, its checkered gingham curtains, and its rocking-ck ir, was more comfortable than any other room in the house. Tt was pleasant to sit ther ing at the food, listening to chatter, and afterward one of Lillie's cigare “That was a friend of Gaines, who called me up just no she said, presently, just as Lillie had known she would. For Lillle Dale had that the easiest way of women's secrets was never to ask about them. As soon you did, they became suspicious and close- mouthed. But if you asked t 1 nothing at all, they told you everything that was on their minds. As she took I'm not absently. pick- Lillie's Tony found out getting at did not even glance up when started her story. almost a year and since Tony went to Montana,” she began, “And this is the first .I've heard from him—this man calling up tonight.” Lillie took long cigarette, and looked only half listening. she asked indifferently. “Yes, and 1 can hardly wait and Merry 1t haif a her were drag at if she Is that a 507" un- feather fancies of other years. Sketched today are shining ex- amples of the wide-brimmed hat, a type now in demand for both town and country wear, In the upper sketch is a beguil- ing broad-brimmed shape of black milan straw trimmed with a band | of black velvet ribbon that ties on |one side in a soft. knot. The two |ribbon ends fall slightly over the brim, thus increasing its appear- ance of width, Below is an equally effective ‘mmlvl of garnet-colored horsehair, trimmed with velvet ribbon to match, The two hats sketched are stun- ning examples of the popular broad- brimmed shape. The materials arc black milan and garnet-colored horsehair. Copyright, 19 6 (EFS Red Hot Grandma Mother (coming in at 2 a. m.)— You necdn't have walted up for me, Ysobel, T had my own latchkey. til he gets here. I'm sure’ Tony |sent him,” Merry answered breath- v You'd better run up and dress TNl do the dishes” Lillie offered generously, “It's quite a relief to do dishes'when you've been doing heads all day. Life on the perma- nent wave isn't all it's cracked up to by poured herself another cup and seftled her to lis or she could tell that Merry had more to say on the subject of Tony Gaines —and Lillie had been wildly curious for a year and a half to know what haa happened between him and Merry “I never saw Tony Gaines, did 17" she asked carelessly. Merry shook her head.*"No. He left town two or three weeks after I started to work at the beauty shop,” she sald, “We had a fuss because I let Derrick Jones kiss me one night. Then he came to see me about a weck afterward and Ysobel—T know it mommer, but somebody had to let grandma in.— I happened to be. out with Bill skine, and Moms told him so. . A letter came from him and it got SPWORTH, | falls | and her | SON. She | smoking So tonight, she sat perfectly still | THE PETTER (1lustrated and Copyrighted by Jobnson Features, Inc., 1819 Broadway, New York City) lost | had around the house. I've always an idea that Cassie did some- | {thing with it. Hid it, or burned it | {up, or something. Anyhow, when 1| finally got around fo telephoning | Tony, he'd left town, and that was | the end of him — until tonight. It just seemed as if everything hap- pened to keep us apart.” : | Merry never blamed herself for anything ~ that happened. As she | |saw it, the Hand of Fate ‘had {brought her and Tony togethgr, | {only to fling them apart again. | | T kno Lillie answered. Her | {voice was full of sympathy. “That's | [the way men are. They leave a |girl Iving around like an old straw hat in December, and_ then expect | to find her waiting for them, when [they want her again. T don’t blame |¥ou for stepping out, if this Gaines neglected you- | “Oh. but he didn’t!” Merry cut |in, her nose in*the air, She was not | |at all flattered by Lillie's remark ibout the old straw hat in Decem- ber. “No man ever got much of a {chance fo neglect me, Lillie Da |Ive always heen too popular.” Tillie looked up, and her shrewd | bright little twinkled more shrewdly than “Too popular! wrong with you bluntly. | “You're too preity |1ar. Too many |about you, and about too many | hat's where never honestly n my life but ry said coldly, Then, all at her breath caught. : had said - the | |thing almost without knowing that she had said it. | But now that actually had | put it into words, she knew that &t was the truth She still was in love with Tony Gaines! i | Furious with herself for letting | |the cat out of the bag — and espe- fally to the gossipy Lillie! — she | [got up and went into the sitting room. | 1t was strewn with papers and |the ash trays were filled With gray |cigar ashes left there by Mr. Hef- flinger. The cushion tied to the ! back of Dad's old easy chair still | bore the print of Mr. Hefflinger's | [bald head. He took his easc there | afternoon, when he was in and lately he seemed s 10 be in town. | a pumping-station!” she fmurmured aloud, as she looked at |the untidy room. | She was still violently setting it | {in order at 8 o'clock when Tony's | friend from Montana rang the front | |doorbell. Mr. Benson was not at all |sort of man she expected to |Montana somehow suggested a co ilrn\' type in a wide at, hoots and a | anchman’s way of talking. | But he was much better dressed | than Morley Kaufman, much more | of a gentleman than Bill kine, | nd almost as good-looking as Tony | | Gaines—this John Benson. | He was tall and blond. His gray | eyes were full of fricndliness, and | |there were laughing wrinkles all | |around them. He shook hands as {if he meant it. Merry liked him in- stantly, | They sat down, and he began to eves | That's what's | Merry!” she said | apd too popu- men you're men are crazy | too crazy | wrong! T| for any man Gaines!” Mer- | T still do!” you're ared ony “And | once she the sel talk about Tony Gajnes almost at |, |once. ; T v and T went to college to- |gether,” he saj). “Years ago. M {uncle, Judge Bannerman, and Tony’s father had always been good friends. | {and so were Tony and I. Then we | left school, and 1 didn’t see him | ain until he came out to Billings | to live. T have a ranch near there, | vou know. Let me show you some | pictures of it—" and he pulled out | lan envelope from his inside coat | pocket. |" *1 brougnt show you,” he [ friendly smile, lof this? Tsnm't it [ranch house? That's where I livel —And look at this—" He rambled on, showing her pictures of the | Montana ranch, and of another one that he owned down near Palm prings in_southern California. | He told fier about his pony named | “Hene nd chout his young sis- ter who was with him on her way | to schodl in Virginia, and about his nickname ‘‘Benny “Tony hung t we were at school,” he said with®a laugh, and then he told her, very simply and naturally, how he hap- | pened to be here with her tonight. | | “I saw a pleture of you that Tony had in a billfold of his, last spring” explained, “It tumbled out one when The was hunting for | |some papers. and T looked at it and | |asked him who vou were.” Merry frowned. She couldn’t re- |member any picture. of her that Tony Gaines had had. Yes, |there was one! She suddenly remem- bers that he had taken some snap- shots of her one long-ago day when | they had gone for a long drive and had eaten their lunch under a willow s out in the country near these along just to | told her with his What do you think | wonderful old on me, when he | night tree Sunget L | aw | | |” o, | know the picture nswered dream- s cap, didn’t 12" direct, un- {you me lily. “I had on Tony | Benson nodded, his |gmiling gaze on her face. “Yes, you |aia.” he said, “Well, to make a long |story short, he wouldn't tell me who vou were, at the time. But T asked Ihim n, about a month ago. 1 couldn’t see why he shouldn't teR me, so long as he was goingeto mar- ¢ Katherine Bannerman, anyiyay |And 1 asked him, for the picture. | too.” He's going .to marry Katherine Bannerman?'* Merry repeated in a still small voice, *Who's Katherine Bannerman? The judge's daughter, I ppose.” 0. His niece,” John Benson answered, “My cousin, and a mighty nice girl she s, too. She and Tony are sure to hit it off—No doubt of that! They're both the salt of the earth! Roth of them! His tone was a bit impatient. He had not come here to talk about Tony Gaines and Katherine Banner- man. He had come fo rtalk about himself to Mary Ann Locke. “The old beggar wouldn't let me Tony Gaines with Lillle |with anyone else, that night. land sat waiting for Lillie's bedroom door closing. Then [she went up to her own room and |get along |girl. By Beatrice Burton Author of “Love Bound,” “HER MAN” have your picture,” he said. “He told me he'd lost it, and perhaps he had. But I finally got your name from him — I was coming here to sec his mother about some land she has up in the mountains. I've onlysbeen in town five hours, and I've spent most of that time call- ing vou up.” He laughed, as he ma his confession. s afrald you might be mar- ried before I got here he said in his: hunicrous way, “Tony said he heard you were engaged when he was here at Christmas time.” At Christmas time! here in this ver town mas, and hadn’t cared out her to come to see her! Last Christmas, when she ad spent most of the day thinking shout-him and wondering. why he hadn't sent her a word! And he hadn’t even let her know he was in town! “How he must hate me!” Merry thought miserably. Or, worse than hating her, how indiferent he must be toward her! Her pride flared up.,all at once, under her misery, and she smiled brilliantly at Benson. That ready- made glittering smile of hers that was getting to be as hard as it was_glittering. “How news travels, doesn't 1t?” she laughed, “I hardly knew, my self, that I was engaged, last Christmas. . T haven't announc- ed it myself, yet, but I am en- gaged, all the same. 1'm going to be married this Christmas, , .. I think Tony knows Bill—Bill Ers- kine. He's the man I'm going to marry. He's down in Fiorida just now. i The news that Bill was, in Flor- Tony been ri had last ( enough lida seemed to cheer Mr. Bensongup a great deal. “Well, in a case like said in his nice voice. have dinner -~ with me night?” Merry said voice was cheerful still glittered. 1t dazzled son. When he had gone, Lillie called downstairs and asked her to come up and tell her “all the news from Montana” . . and Merry called back to say that there wasn’t any news from Montana. None at all. She just could mot talk over Dale — or She downstairs in Dad's old chair, the sound of that,” The “Won't you tomorrow that she would. Her and her smile Mr. Ben- t to bed. CHAPTER XL For the first time in her life Merry had a friendship with a man —a friendship with not one bit of love making mixed up in it. John Benson was in town for a week, and he saw Merry every ay. But not once did he hold her hand in g moving picture show. ot kiss her in a speeding taxi, or even mention the fact that he had fallen in love with her picture, long before. He did none of the things that Merry, who knew, too much about men, expected a man to do when he was with her. From the minute she told him that she was engaged to marry Bill Trskine, he began to keep his dis- tance. He behaved toward her ex- tly as he might have behaved to- A d the little sister who went to school in Virginia. “I surely like him,” to Lillie Dale one night, when she was waiting. for him to call for her at the beauty shop, “He knows all sorts of things that nobody else knows— “A regular Benny Brains, eh, wot?” Lillie broke in, mockingly, as she dusted off the top of the tele- phone table. Merry tossed her head. “No, he's not a regular Benny Brains” she snapped. “But he knows something. He's not one of these petting-bee boys like Les Purcelll You should have seen the books he bought y terday afternoon. Not silly novels, but George Washington's diaries and e Merry said la book about Mark Twain, He says it's hard to get books like those out on his ranch unless he orders them. I'm sure he must have spent a hun- |dred dollars on just books. Think of it!" Lillie fat laugh. laughed her comfortable, “You and he ought to together like tea and then, Merry.” she teased the “You read the weather re- port in the paper every day your- self, don't you Merry closed her lips, and stared out of the window. There were times when Lillie was unbearable with her teasing. But the next minute, when Lillie spoke again, she was perfectly serious. “I've been reading a book lately called ‘The Passionate Friends,’” she said. he man who wrote it seems to think that married people ought to be friends as well as lovers —or they won't be happy. You nev- er heard of him. of course, Merry. His name is H. G. Wells. She picked up the book — a red one with gold lettering on it — and tucked it into her bag. Lillie fairly lived on books from the library in Colfax street. “I never Merry answered loftily, are full of so much sil anyway."” But she thought over what Lillie had said about married people be- ing passionate friend. ‘ “I wonder if T want Bill Erskine for either a friend or a lover?” she asked herself, time after time. Some- how she just couldn't look ahead and picture herself married to Bill Erskine! A And yet she passionately wanted a home—a home like Cassie's home. She could just shut her eyes and see it just as she wanted it to be—all blue velvet carpet and ivory silk curtains, and deeply cushioned chairs, and flowers and wood fires and a tea table. The kind of home that every girl on earth dreams about, when it comes time for her to marry. She could see it—and she could see herself in it, pretty and rosy and w)lel)‘.,‘, But she just couldn't tos have time to read,” And books twaddle, | There icountry where late imagine BIill Erskine coming home to her at the close of the day. He was the only thing that did not fit into the picture. Every day a letter came for her from him. He was planning to spend Christmas with her, happened.” “That means, T suppose,” she told herself, “that he's coming, whether his father dies in the meantime or not She took out his last letter now. while she waited for John Benson. were two snapshots in it— one of himself on a horse, and an- other of himself and a young girl. They had tennis rackets under their arms and the background showed a tennis court. Our little neighbor, June Hollis, is teaching me to play tennis,” he had written on the back of the picture. 'So there's no shouldn’t step out with son or Les Purcell my said to herself, and she meet John, who was just into sight. They went for out beyond the c reason why I John Ben- £ Merry went out to coming long walk. Far limits, into the September was gold banners ¥ hanging scarlet and on all the trees. The sun went down, the moon in the silvery green sky of edrly eve- ning. “I suppose we ought to eat some- where,” John said, along about nine o'clock. “We start talking, and the time just flies, doesn't it?" They raced back to town, with the wind at their backs, and had waf- fles and coffee in the first restaurant they found.. “I should be taking you to the restaurant in the Towers Hotel in- stead of a dump like 'this" John said, opening the door of the little restaurant for Merry. But she shook her head. months she had known Bill Erskine she had grown tired of four-course dinners in hot, stuffy, over-elabo- rate restaurants, There was some- thing plggigh about Bill's heavy meals that always started with thick cream soup and wound up with heavy desserts and black coffee. “I'm enjoying thi Benson, - pouring syrup over her crisp golden waffles, “Just as T en- joy your stories about your ranch. Food doesn't make so much dif- ference, does it ?—especially when you're having a good time.” “Are you having a good time?” he asked eagerly. But the next night he took hed to the Towers Hotel for dinner, and bought her leathery white gardenias to wear on her coat. Then, on the next Thursday, week was over. He was gone, everything seemed more dreary and qull than before. N Jinny and Derrick came home from their honeymoon on the first Sunday in October. They drove up before the Jones® house in a yellow taxicab. For Der- rick's old roadster had broken down just outside the city limits after three weeks of beautiful perform- ance. From the sitting-room Moms saw them come. and dashed out onto the front porch. “Here! Here! she called to Jin- ny. “Don’t go dnto the Jones’ house! Bring your bags in here— I'll give you some breakfast!” Merry watched Jinny come slowly across the Jones's lawn, and then cross the lawn of their own house and come up the steps to Moms. Deflance was written clearly in her leat-brown eyes and in the set of her square little “Is Mr, Hefflinger here” she ask- ed shortly. Tn the his window she surprised voice. “His show’s’ opened again and he's gone for the winter. —What has Mr. Hefflinger to do with your coming into the house, for heaven's sake?” Jinny's eyebrows shot up. “Nothing, except that 1 won't stay under the same roof with him! she sald, in that frank, positive way of hers. If you'll swear to me that he's not ever coming back here. Derrick and 1 will live here with you. Otherwise — nothing doing!” Moms opened her mbuth to argue the question. Then evidently she thought better of it. She laughed. “Don't be so high-and-mighty, Jinny. I'm not asking you and Der- briskly. “I just want you to come in and have your breakfast! You look as if you need a good hot bath, too!” Jinny surely did look as if she needed a bath. Her hair was dank, and her hands were grubby. There was a long streak of black oil on the skirt of her fawn-colored suit. and 1,” she explained, “We bought a tent and we've been sleeping in it and bathing in rivers — Oo-ooh! We've had the most gorgeous-grand honeymoon two people ever had!” “You must have! You look it! Moms answered grimly, and went upstairs to start the hot water run- ning in the tub. When she had fed Jinny and Der- rick with the first well-cooked food they had had for three weeks, she settled the question of Mr. Hef- flinger. He's paid his room rent up until the first of November,” she told them, sitting opposite them at the breakfast table. “And it's silly for me to think of turning him out, anyway, For I don’t want you two in the house anyway. 1 don't belleve in two families living under one roof—and the sooner Derrick makes a home for you, Jinny, the better it will suit me. 1t wound up by Jinny moving all her things over to the Jones's house next door. She and Degrick decided to live there until they had a place of their own. “Which won't be soon!” as Moms remarked bitterly to Merr long as Derrick can live on his father he'll do it; you see! I made up my mind T wouldn't have them here! If Miss Jinny was smant enough to leave home because she gidn’t like having Mr. Hefflinger around the house, she ought to be smart enough to make Derrick pro- vide a home for her! She's too young to be married, : nyway!" Merry could tell that she was dreadfully upset about Jinny, in spite of her hard, ruthless way of talking about her. She nagged Derrick constantly about getting a home where Jinny could learn to keep house. “That's no way for her to live — under your mother’s thumb, all day,” she would say to him. ‘'Well, 'm under my father's thumb all day,” Derrick, who was no matter what | she told John | a I’fl”\ muttered, an “Why, no,” Moms answered, in a| rick to live here with me!” she said “We've been camping — Derrick | working in his fatlier's printing of- fice, would comc back at her. “Is hard on both of us.” But there never was a word of complaint from Jinny. If she dis- liked living at the Jones house, she never said so. And she never crossed the threshold of her old home un- less she came with her new hus- band. “She acts as if she'd mever be- longed to me!” Moms would wail Hélen fand Cassie hardly ever jcame home, either. Helen was going to have another baby in January, snd she said spe was “worked to death” taking care of the old baby and the Yiouse on Wandsworth Road. “assie was busy. too. with her social career and her husband's love affair with Mrs. Fifi Pell He's seeing her again, all the time,” Cassie confided to Merry, one cold Satur v night in late October. |They were driving home in C: tle car, with its cut-glass vase of carnations and its velvet-cov- at Cassie’s face was worn and wor- ried. All the cold cream and make- up she could buy couldn’t make i 1100k young and fresh these days. “Whatever you do, Merry,” she sald in her harsh, husky voice. Don't mar a man unless he's head over heels in love with you. Marriage is too close and intimate a thing for anybody but lovers Her er looked at her sharply. That was such a queer thing for Ca e to say — Cassie who seemed to be as cold and hard and loveless a marble statue. “That reminds me, Merry,” she went on, “Morley had a letter from Bill Erskine. He expects to spend Thanksgiving here. T suppose he’s told you. though, hasn’'t he?” “I haven't heard from him for a week Merry answered. “I don’t know what's the matter with him. He had been writing to me every lday.” R That night she saw Bill Erskine. Les Purcell dropped in to see her along about half past eight. “I'm not going to stay,” he said. sitting down in front of the little fire that crackled in the sitting- room grate. “I just ran in to tell vou something—My wife filed suit for divorce today. like that—natur- He said it just ally and simply. He might have been saying: “I bought a new suit today” or “It was cold today, wasn't it Merry's green eyes blinked at him, like grecn jewels winking in the dimness of the firelit room. *May soul! Lilllc was right, then!” half to herself. “But why didn’t you tell me you had a wife, Les? You've' never mentioned her." Les grinned and lit a cigaret be- fore he answered her. “Why should 1 have talked about her? T haven't lived with her for more than a year, horey,” he drawl- ed in his lazy way. “T try not to think of unpleasant things.” Merry stared at him. The little room was ve silent. The whole | house was silent, except for the tick- the coals Moms and ing of the clocks and crackling in the grate. Lillie had gone out. “I never should her in the first place,” Les went on talking about himself as usual. “I'm not the kind of man who should try to stick to a woman and a hou I'm not made that way.” “No? Merry's voice was have married quiet. “No? Les Purcell got up and came to- ward her. She gat up, too. She didn't like the look that had flashed into his face. K and leave But never mar his coarse way, spe whole splendid race it they were toys for and amusement of man. “That's my system,” he finished with ‘a laugh, holding Merry close in his arms. “I'm going to leave you now — but first of all. I'm go- ing to kiss you, Paradise!” “Not if 1 see you first!” cried, full of sudden dislike him lhere came a sharp knocking on the window beside them. (TO BE CONTINUED) Whose is the face at the window. why is Merry so frightened You will find the answers in _tomorrow's chapter of “The Petter.” Menas for the Family ‘em when meet ‘em when ‘em vou you ' Tes king of women as the pleasure Merry toward Breakfast—Stewed dried peaches, boiled rice, thin cream, toasted bran muffins, milk, coffee. Luncheon—Swiss chard on toast, {raisin bread and butter sandwiches. jelly roll, mikk, tea. Dinner — Creamed veal, boiled | potatoes in parsley butter, new beets in orange sauce, tomato cream salad. raspberry parfait, sponge cake, whole wheat bread, milk, coffee. The center, thick part of chard is used for the luncheon dish. The eaves can be used as spinach is used for a salad on the following day. Since this is the plenic season the recipe for raisin bread follows. Sand- wiches made with this bread are quite as good for a picnic as for a home luncheon or afternoon tea. Raisin Bread Two cups graham flour, 2 cups wheat flour, 1-2 cup sugar, 1-2 cup molasses, 2 teaspoons baking pow- der, 1 1-4 teaspoons soda, 1 tea- spoon salf, 2 cups sour milk, 1 egg, 1 cup peanut butter, 1 cup seeded and chopped raisins. Mix flours, sugar, baking powder| and salt. Add molasses and peanut butter and mix thoroughly. Add 1 cup of sour milk and mix well. Dis- solve soda in remaining milk and| stir into first mixture. Add raising and egg well beaten. Beat mixtur hard for several minutes. Turn ln(a 2 two oiled and floured pound bakin powder or coffee cans and bake on hour in a hot oven. | (Copyright, 1926, NEA Service;: | Ine.) Dummies that move their heads' lips and eyes by means of electrl( motors have been devised by Paril tallors. | BAKER'S CERTIFIED FLAYRNG EXTRACTS