New Britain Herald Newspaper, September 22, 1926, Page 4

icksands of Love ‘Adele Garrison’s New Phase of Madge Plays s DBadger Game With Dicky I Xnew Dy the sudden embarras- sed look mpon Dicky’s face that I had struck home. Y3d managed things so that Dici %ied luached with her at the res- tsgrant ® whick Phillp Vert bad4 Droughi me for t} rasel. T wondarsd w imowledgs of my iunching with the tamous producer had * as sooldental as sha had made 2ppear to Dicky, or whetr Teex wpring upon me faafion utteriy Ceneath i had considered fair antagonist. Long ago & told me that she loved my ht d | better than I ever could, and I had had ne reason to think t t vears hed brought to her nution of that feeling. this present association the art magazine, Dicky never ha given me any real reason for easiness in her direction, and I h'm settled into the belief that the love she had for him was a hopeless thing with no hint of peril for me. T had been sure also that would stoop to weapons u of the high standards to which she | bad been bred. But since her unexpected success in managing the magazine, in which she had developed a business ability urisuspected by any of us, both Lillian and I had noticed in her a certain ruthlessness, a hardness, ut- terly forelgn to our previous con- ceptions of her. This chance revela- tion of Dicky’'s confirmed that im- pression. Suddenly T felt that I could not continue this controversy with Dicky until I had time to think things ove from this new angle of Edith F fax’s interference. Before he could #ind words to answer my accusation which he patently had not expected T slipped past him and spoke in- cisively, “Whatever further you wish to| #ay to me certainly can wait an‘ Danny ¥s Undecided By Thornton W. Burgess Whene'er you can’t make up your mind, Do nothing; it is h?‘(l ou'll find. dow Mouse, If ever any World was disappointed, was Danny Meadow Mouse, When he peered around the bend of the creek and discovered no one but the Sandpipers he didn’t know what to think. He had been absolutely sure that he would find there a man driving stakes. But there was no ke driver there, Still, he could that one | certainly did sound “It may be longer around this way, but it certainly will be casier golng” hear those stakes being driver Danny sigh Danny d or to keep on the longer this inl aro will be to himself Danny sta so0 fast now on. h frequent stops qa, 1t It was 2 was such Edith Fairfax | iband was crazily ! 1oc | maddening to him. to o care to have dispute.” But one t ¥ mind. knew it or not, my hus- jealous of Philip er he h the curlous inconsistency of most women, I attended to my hus- s physical welfare while I was ring to upset his temper. Care- y 1 prepared the concoction of frult juices, fce and sugar with the t y Summer evening. d to which Dicky adds a bottle of nger ale when he is ready to go o bed and read. Then with the con- sclousness of a duty done, and, I am afraid, with the unpleasantly virtuous air of the complacent housewite, I came living- room, and sitting dow: 4 at him expect am ready now to here what- you have to say,” I remark with an air of long-suffering tolerz ion which I knew was espec ever, Copyright, 1928, by Newspaper Fea- ture Service, I r f a big bend that it changed Danny's | position completely in regard to the point from which that stake driving | was coming. When he reached the | very farthest point on that bend the | sound came from in a deep cove on | > other side, s almost | t had been, 1 like the ¢ 1't sound riving of a stake. turned the t sound, but it a stake be- It reminded Danny of else, He sat down to k it over. | heard d Danny “Now, what s it t sounds like th to himself, and listencd more intent- ly than before. Then it came to him he exclaimed in that squeaky voice of his. | it sounds just like that old wooden pump up In Farmer Brown's | That is queer. T don't see e should be a pump down stake driver seems to ed stakes and | now he's pumping. It is queer, very | 1, T ought to see him | down way around this | why ther r. W T ge Pump-er-lunk! Pump-er-lunk! It | s though there | down in that | 8 so excited over all about the t that he was| y twinkled, | He was | was & pump gol e for legs { go so fast bend d | stopped | something rere wa someh was other ought nd 1 they together. | ave him some- Da iving, heard times Sometimes tho and t he all like pump didn't Curiosity | \mon sense It really | \is who or what | noises. Danny | scemed find go on or to g m to go on. 1 1 out to come so ht Danny was ur (Copyright, 19 W. Burgess) next o Noise HEB/OWN WAY Girl Joan's l(.«,..r “My dear, did 1 in I & I first you. member t1 where you your secr. tion, not didn't tell you turned in and h your serape.” “And what a wonderful friend you are, Judy! to think that I should have picked you out from behind the handkerchief counter in my step-father's s 1 don’t know why I 4id it. I am sure 1| Béver would have told my story to you fact, net t you were 1 , of the girls thn,i know only | you of Today n se Iut speaking about of my scrape, T am out yet. However, to talk about that. to you a little about n not am not going I want to ta y own affairs, at y dear Joan, T um just liviy trying to help really needs my hel t you seem to be t with your brother 1 4 to d who at pi body John That's it, Judy, that's it. T need not tell you that my brother John is on the ot falling in love with you and I also need not tell ons who never lies to herself that Tot quite sure whether yoy verg !u:mumuu. sibility you John.” know what I mean. | Forgive me, not I am going to ask you to go away | gone on that African expedition. fed to speak, but Joan | fqior you have done nothir age my been he always do, Bunions CONDITION—Large hips TREATMENT—The exercis hips. Lie on the floor wi semi-circle with them so that th do it on t h ¥ Tmpmmmmmmmnnnnnmnnmmsnnnn: BY D y about five times a day until it I\O\I Posed by Hazel Hurd b 0 besi de you. Then floor fu st above your he comes ea r arms touch ) ove is very antagon THE BEAUTY DOCTOR HENRIURRInNnnNg stic to superfluous weight about ur legs and describe a up to it by degrees, and want him to do so*or not. to = ! any ;M in g to ask yo! e up your it you think by could be intere ately “But I am interested. I think he is most charmin off th I m ) marry him? “Don’t put me you hink that you could dear, fter he h from here until a s Again 1 t said quiet 'Please, let me finish. I know lease Jr.l\ that as y to encour- brother except wl dictated by your kind ou saw him you s was unhappy; that we who loved him did not really under- nd him and instinctively, as vou you immediately gained his interest, e moment not only fidence.” (Copyright, 1926, NEA Service, Inc.) TOMORROW: Judy Must Decide. ITREE-TOD TORIES "BREAKFASTS 'MARJORIE ran out to the front steps one morning. Everything was fresh and gresn. A ]wely? bin was hunting for his breakfast. He ran along the ground so fast that Mmcm couldn’t see his legs. Then he etopped with his head tipped to one side. Suddenly he stuck his bill down into the soft earth, and be- gan to pull and tug with all his t! TGy e eaveione e T pull.. and out came a big angle- worm! And away flew Mr. RobBin with the worm in his billl “That's a NICE brra}‘ul’for his Begin the Cuticura Habit Early In Life For more than two generations Cuticura Soap has been the favor. ite for nursery, toilet and bath. Its daily use, assisted by Cuticura Ointment when necessary, means skin health in infancy and child- hood, and freedom, in the majority of cases, from skin affections in after life. Sonp S5 Olatmyent 2% wnd 5. Talewm B, Scid verywhere. ~Sample each fres. - Addres Masn' “Oullonrn Laberatartes, Dopt. 60, Baldun, Caticura Sheving Stick 25c. with that wonderful “woods” flavor Quick relief from pain, Prevent shoe pressu: At all drug and shoe stores DrScholl’s but his con- | seie being expos: | | poison toxin tr [eat | five or | likely Your Health | How to Keep It— Causes of Iliness INOCULATION OF SUSCEPTIBLE Editor's Note: This is the second | of a series of five articles on diph- theria, . Tomorrow: Avoidance: BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Journal of the American Medical Association and ot Hygela the Health Magazine toxin discovered d for treatment and pre- ot diphtheria, there cat fall in its death However, the death ached a certain at that point with Appare point rep acheived, or carelessness who would not T tinued redu ed y, it had reach- nting all that limited by the those a nce A second great fall in rate occurred, h covery that it w k test, to .determ or not a person was likely come infected with diphtheria d to it. Treating Susceptible Children or older p ible to infection be injected with a mixt diphtherla to antitoxin, w and thu agalnst the disca ing h sitiy ser; ue City in more s showed the atment is ha will produce an his prote period; in some in parently even for lif has been proved so it was applied to chi in New York City w test. After the children six, only tho to develop ¢ posure, as determined by the Schick | given toxin-antitoxin after then of the and the susce > without develop- perser ss or without Yo it s method \rmiess that iren under six out the Schick have reached parently are injections, When the alone is in the d antitoxin unity to - or four diphtheria ected, the s’ Opposition Fanatics who oppose all medical | progwess ¢r melentific work depend |ing on animal experimentation or in ’\fl( igation, e fought this meas. |ure with all the irrationalism that has accompanied most of their ! efforts. ted by such methods. | | | z Em p-m.m. ’ They the have ored to fright- public ird tales of | hs from the injection of toxin- | antitoxin, and h even asserted diseases have been tro htest evidence has ever oc- n prop is no greater lical meth- ition of po- There s not the to indicate that dea cured from toxin- | prepare The ha with the od involv tent principles fact that actually sccure results is tion of their virtue In City more tt a milli or toxin-antitoxin 1 [and thero ha effects of any kind partment records shc | aiphtheria, amou ,000 cases a year, since was Introduced. pre se preparations v York | n injections | ave been given, no serious e health de- a decrease in to at least this method it be funny it everybody beuam VOrYRAAYD | nniaincii ersons found | on ex- | it- | rly | n indica- | FASHIONS By Sally Milgrim | Black Crepe-Satin Is the Ontstand- of the Fall Afternoon Mode ing Fabric One of the most pressing needs at this season of the is a prac- tical day frock of heavy silk to re- place the thin, fluttery affairs of the summer. Crepe satin is an ideal fabric for such a dress as it is both and warm. In the matter! | of color, black is the first choice of | well-dre d women for separate afternoon frocks as well as for three- | piece costumes. The chic little dress sketched to- day successfully solves the problem |of a fall day frock. Two features | commend it to the woman who de~ | sires a smart outfit and at the | same time a practical one. In the first place it is made of heavy crepe-satin, and, secondly, it is black. Not all black to be sure, but black combined with white in | the form of fine cream net trim- | ming and small white buttons. On the edge of a pointed apron kirt is a ruffle of pleated net—a vouthful note as well as a sharply contrasting touch. The small yoke is also of this material. Other interesting features of this | dress are the bloused line of the bodice and curved collar ending in a cape in back. | On the cdges of this polnted apron skirt is a white net ruffle | finished with a band of small pearl buttons. | Coypright, 1926" (EFS) Menas for the Family BY SISTER MARY BREAKI'AST — Berries, cereal, thin cream, soft cooked eggs, crisp toast, milk, coffee LUNCHEON—Sliced with vegetable hash, and marmalade sandwiches, tea. DINNER — Consomme, sticks, cheese fondue, creamed po- tatoes, buttered kale, stuffed toma- to salad, Spanish cream,, graham bread, milk, coffee. The luncheon dish is planned to use up the meat left from the roast and since meat {s served for lunch- eon a meatless dinner is planned. A rather quaint name is often given ta the dish—‘bubble and squeak’— so if your family find much “in a name"” why not use It for their benefit? Sliced Roast Beef With Vegetable Hash Four or six slices cold roast beef tablespoons butter, 2 cups cold mashed potatoes, 1 cup cold cooked spinach, 1 Jarge onion, salt and pep- per. Peel and shred onion. Melt butfer in frying pan. Add meat and saute a golden brown first on one side and then on the other. Remove from spider and keep hot. Put prepared onfon in frying pan and cook over a |1ow fire to a pale straw color. Add | potatoes and spinach, salt and pep- | per and mix thoroughly. Cook until very hot, stirring with a fork to mix and prevent browning. Smooth over the top gpd let brown on the bottom. Turn out on a hot platter and ar- range meat over the top. Garnish with sprigs of parsley and serve. (Copyushl, 1926, Nea Servigt, Ing.) roast bees brown bread milk, bread- 1 e f CAROLYN BEGIN HERE TODAY Mysterious lights flash from the Heath bungalow one night and the next day Harbor Gardens, Long Island, is agog over the murder of Myra Heath and the disappearance of her husband, Perry. House guests of the Heaths are Lawrence Inman, heir to Myra's fortune, and beautiful Bunny Moore, to whom suspicion points because of her queer actions. Myra Heath never used cosmetics vet when her body was found she was heavily rouged. A rare old bottle from her collection of glass had been used to kill her. C; les were burning at her head and feet. At the country club the murder is discussed by Sam Heath's rival for the club pre dency; Al Cunningham, who is tr; ing to solve the crime, and others. Bunny is amazed to get a phone | call from Pesry Heath, saying In- man is the murderer. Cunningham goes to Anc while waiting for his host, is con- | fronted by Perry Heath, who then slips away in the darkness. Ander- son arrives soon after and upbraids Cunningham for letting Heath get away. Todhunter Buck, who is in love with Bunny, is witness to a noc- turnal meeting between the girl and Heath. He tries to get Bunny to ex plain and when she refuses he cal in his friend, Steve Truitt, a fa-| mous detecti Bunny tells Truitt she had gone downstairs the night | of the murder and seen Myra Heath, not yet cold in death, and Inman peeping from behind a curtain. Truitt questions Inman and then, inspecting the Heath home, discov ers something peculiar about a w dow. He then rejoins Buck and the latter’s aunt, Mrs. Prentiss, NOW GO ON WITH THE CHAPTER XLIV “I found practically nothing of | importance,”” Truitt said then, see- ing Tod's blank look of disappoint- ment, he added, “except Mr. Inman himself. He wouldn't admit he had | seen you that night, Miss Bunny, | until T told him that you had told | me of it yourself. Then he loosened | up a little, but he still feared a trap. | However, he did admit that he went downstairs almost immediately after you came up, and said he went down | to see what scared you so.” “H'm,” sald Mrs. Prentis: tle fishy. But, see here, Mr. Truitt, that checks up the lights. You know the place was dark as a pocket at one o'clock. Then, Bunny comes down at half past one, snaps on a bright light, and in about fifteen minutes turns it out and goes up- stal Then, 'long about two, Mr. Inman comes down. Big light again, | and soon he snaps it off and goes | upstairs. Then, no more lights all | night.” “Except the two small sparks—" “Yes—those the murderer put there—" “The murderer being?” nman!” exélaimed Tod. “You must have seen, Steve, how qunnrt he was, how, you know—furtive, and that sort of thing. Sly, uncommuni- cative, until he concluded to say| something, then his words came Outl in a perfect slulce. “Not much of a psychologist, are you, Tod?” and Truitt smiled at him. | “Oh, get out. I know what 1 know. I know the thing rests be- tween Bunny and Inman. T know— you know, Bunny didn't do it, there- fore, and wherefore, it was Inman.” “Going to take me over to the club tonight, Tod?" | And as Toddy agreed, the whole | subject was dropped by common cop- | sent, and one of Mrs. Prentiss’ fust- ly famed dinners was enjoyed with no accompanying talk of horrors. But after dinner, Cunningham | telephoned that they were to come over to Sam Anderson’s house in- stead of to the club, as he had in- | vited a few chums there for billiards, and didn'y want to go out. So over they went, Truitt admir- ing as they walked briskly along, the bridge, the brook it crossed and the delightful, though different landscape on either side. Sam Anderson was polite, even cordial, but 1t was plain to be scen | that, as he was expecting guests, he | must want them to make their \I=|t\ brief, { Cunningham was the embarrassed one, for he had brought about this interview with no reason but a hope that it might be helpful to himself, | and it was a little difficult to ex- plain. “I—T wanted you men to meet Mr. Truitt,” he began a little lamely, but | Tod Buck threw himself into the | breach. “It's all right, Mr. Anderson,” he smiled; “we won't stay but a few minutes. I know you've got a party on. But to come down to brase tacks, I'm told that you Park peo- ple suspect Miss Moore of the Heath crime, and I'm asking you if you have any real, any definite evidence against her. And, ® you haven't, it you won't—you, Mr. Anderson, as one of the most influential Park men—if you won't do what you can to squash that rumor—or suspicion, or whatever you call it.” “My dear boy,” Sam Anderson smiled at him, “you're barking up the wrong tree! T haven't the slight- est suspicion that Miss Moore did or could commit that terrible crime! Why, the mere idea is inconceivabl and I've said so every time I hav been where the thing was discussed. “Good for you, Mr. Anderson!” and Tod wrung his hand. “I sup- pose not all the Park people think alike, then.” “Whom do you suspect, Mr. An- derson?” Truitt asked, feeling that the time might be short, and he must learn all he could quickly. “Why, I'm not sure I ought to voice a suspicion, and yet, it it's to help save the name and fame of a fair lady—of a young girl, I suppose T nced not hesitate. I am quite willing to put it on record that such evidence as has been rehearsed in my hearing, leads me to think that the criminal was Mr. Inman. I { | | STORY | | may be wrong, I can only say he seems to me the most likely suspect, as far as I can see.” -“Xou-don%"{hipk, then? Trultt Anderson, | rson’s house and there, | ALER FI WELLS W 4. went on, “ it could have been the injured husband You don't think Perry Heath did 1t?" “How did he make a getaway afterward? I understand the house | was locked up like a bank.”” Anderson seemed willing to talk, at least, until his guests arrived, so Truitt kept him at it. “Yes, I hear it was. But why would | Mr. Inman kil the woman he | loved 2 mous poem, Mr. Truitt? it runs: “‘For each man killa the thing he loves. [Not entirely true, of course, but a unrequitted love. And, too, Mr. In- man is the heir. Oh, I don't know, of course, but he seems to me a far more likely suspect that Heath. I've heard the Heaths were married for several years, and though as a bachelor such things are outside of my line, T don't think the average man is jealous enough to murder his wife after they have lived to- gether as long as that.” “That's so” Truitt agreed, and then Sam Anderson's guests began to arrive and the callers left. From Tod, from Bunny, from Mrs. Prentiss, and even calling in one or two of the servants, it seemed Steve Truitt would never cease his.end- |less firing of queries. i On all serts of subjects, seemingly | with all sorts of objects, but all more or less connected with the | Heaths or with other Harbor peo- | ple. At last, he went off by himself and smoked a cigar in silence and | solitude. He returned, smiling and debon- | air. And made himself so entertain- ing and agreeable that he seemed no more a prosalc detective, but a gay and jolly chum of Tod's. But after Mrs. Prentiss and Bun- | ny had goge to bed, Trultt turned to | Tod with a serious face. “Old man,” ald, “that woman | was killed by either her husband or | her cousin.' “Right, oh, see it that wa. “Heath, you know, neighborhood.” “Was last night.” “Is stil. he will visit the house next door.” “Important, if tru “Yes, that's just it. Maybe he | won't. But I think—TI strongly be- lieve he will.” “Do you happen to know what he will come for?” “Ido. He will come to get a hook D\h of the—is there a librar N0, books are in the studio.” “All right then. He'll come to get a book out of the studio. Shall we conceal ourselves behind the and nab him when he arrives? “l was awake most of night—" ““Oh, puddinghead! Stay at home, then. I'll go alone, or, better T'll get your aunt to go with me. must have a witness.” i Admitting to himself, but not to Tod, that it might be a wild goose chase, Truitt led the way and fol- lowed by his friend, went silently oracle! I'm glad you I “Sit there,” he whispered, point- ing to a lawn settee, “and don't | move till T tell you.” Tod did so, and ten minutes later, Truitt came to him and jogged his elbow. “All set,” he whispered. To Tod’s amazement, one of the French windows in the studio was open. “How'd you do that?” he ex- claimed, but Steve only said ‘Hush!” and pushed him inside. CHAPTER XLV Once in, and adjured to silence, To"l merely watched while Truitt | noislessly closed and locked the French window, and then stationed Tod behind a good-sized screen that | was across the corner of the studio. He gave him a fairly comfortable chair, though not a large one, and then he ruthlessly cut an eyehole in the screen at the right height for Tod's eye while he was seated in the chalr. Nodding in satisfaction, Steve whispered that his purpose, as Truitt | hoped 1t would “No matter what happens, don't make a move until T do,” and then, afraid lest he might not be tmplicit- ly obeyed, he added solemnly, “Bun- ny's life may depend on your abso- lute silence.” This stretched the long bow a lit- tle, but it served its purpose, as | Truitt hoped it would. Trultt had dared a low light to make these preparations, but he had turned that off and they were now in total darkness. His greatest fear was that Tod would fall asleep, but he banked his hopes on the word he had passed about Bunny, and trust- ed that the hint would keep the boy awake. Although it seemed hours, it was not so very long before a faint noise was heard at the window whereby they had entered. Both men were alert, and absolutely silent. Accustomed now to the darkness, and because of a faint bit of light from the waning moon, they saw a tiny diamond shaped pane move from {ts place in the window on the east terrace, not a French window, a small window with latticed upper sash. This pane came out entirely, re- moved by a hand outside, whose fingers showed dully pink against the panes. The pane out, a whole hand came through and easily turned the win- dow fastening, after which, the win- dow was slowly and cautlously raised. Had Truitt been less imperative Tod could scarcely have withatood an exclamation, as a man's leg came over the sill, followed by the rest of his anatomy. It was Perry Heath. Though not closely acquainted, Tod had seen him before and recognized him at once. He knew the long lock of hair over his forehead that he was continually throwing back, for Heath took off his hat as s00n as he was inside. Then, stepping to the door of the loungs,'De- unge, e listeged-intentiy for & gt watching “Do you remember a line of a fo- | man might do that from jealousy, or | is still in the | And tonight, my laddie. | last | across the lawns to the Heath house. | CAS P PUTNAM SONS ment, and® apparently satisfied, closed the door very softly, and | turned on a small desk light. | Tod hoped his aunt was not hav- ing an insomnia attack, for shas would certainly see that, and pe haps give tn alarm. But he had no time for thought, | the sight of the man was too thr |ing for that. Heath, first of all, went to the bookshelves, took down a small vol ume and thrust it in his pocket, with |a nod of decided satisfaction. That done, he seemed about to leave, but paused and gazed about | the room af if taking note of its con- tents. He opened a large paintbox, and {looked at it contemplatively, then | closed it with a little sigh. On the desk, beneath the lamp | he had lighted, stood Myra’s picture. a mintature in a velvet frame. This he picked up and gazed on for a long time. Then he sighed again, and it would seem was about to leave. g But as he stepped td%ard the win- | dow, Truitt came out from his hid- ing place, and snapping on a full light, said: “Mr. Heath, I belicve.” “Good Lord!" said Perry Heath, petulantly, rather than frightened, “and who are you?” “Oh, I'm Truitt, the detective.” “You are, And what are you do« ing here?” “I'm just detecting around a littla, Come out, Tod."” Tod Buck came out of his corner, wondering what would happen next. “So_ there are two of you,” Heath | said, meditatively. “I might have | managed one.” | “I know,” and ‘that's why T have provided two, | Now, Mr, Heath, have you any ob= jections in going with me to the po- lice headquarters?” | “Why—to be honest, T have. But 1 daresay they will be overruled.” “They most certainly will be. So we'll just consider it settled that we'll go along. Will you go what is called quietly, or shall we call Mr, Inman to go along and help us keep he peace.” “Don’t drag him in, for Heaven's ke. I'll toddle along with you —TI don't really mind going, you 3. Steve nodded, \ | s | bo: | kn | o, I suppose not. Come on, the; “I say, Heath,” put in Tod, who so [ tar had been silent, “why does Bun- | ny stand up so for you?” “I suppose she thinks I did the | killing. I didn't, you know, Larry | did. But Bunny would stand up for | either of us, or both of us—she's that sort. “Then did Mr. | make-up on your from Truitt. “How do I know? It he killed her, e must have done it.”” “Mr. Heath, have you no resent- ment toward the man you say killed | your wit Have you no desire to | see him brought to justice? No wish |to have him punished? You loved your wife, do you want her death | avenged 2” looked at him in silence a and then said, quite calm- : “I'll talk at headquarters, but I Come on, let's get that This Tnman put wife's face?" | won't tallk here. along.” The others were quite willing. and | putting out the lights Truitt mar- | shaled his crowd out. He was not afrald of Heath's getting away, for both Tod and himself were husky chaps, and more than a match for one alone. “No use restoring the putty pane—" Truitt said, pausing a mo- ment at the window. “Oh, yes, might as well” apd | with a deft movement of his long, | slender hands, Heath manipulated | the pane into place, pressed tha | putty around it, and left it looking | as if it had not been touched. | “Clever dodge, that,” said with enforced admiration. “It's been like that a long time,™ | Heath said, carelessly. “I've always | kept soft putty on it, and nobody noticed.” “Bunny did,” eald Tod. Yes, she did. I can’t think now | how she happened to,” and Heath | agaln assumed that peevish tone, | that meant some of his plans had gone wrong. The walk to headquarters, of course, tock them over the bridge and for a short distance on the Park side of the Harbor. Also, they passed the Country Club, and Heath stopping suddenly, | said: “I say, T wish you fellows would stop here with me a minute. I want to get some letters I left in my locker. You can keep your eye on me, you know."” (To Be Continued) Tody Glossy Hair Ever Curly By Edna Wallace Hopper That glow in my hair, that fluff, that wave are not due to a hai dresser. T have no time for that: care. They are due to a dressing some famous experts made for me. I call it my Wave and Sheen. That glitter, that curl, that seeming abundance come from applying that dress twice a week. I think every girl and woman will be glad to know it. Your hair’s beau- ty wxll be doubled in an hour. You will need no more Marcel wavc!.k ' n cen. The