New Britain Herald Newspaper, January 25, 1927, Page 14

Quicksands of Love Adele Garrison *“I can see the foundation for your hunch,” I said to Lillian as she out- lined to me the premises for her exploded theory that Mary Harrison was the mysterlous masked dancer at the night club. “But how did you ftigure that the child got out of the house every night without our sceing her. “I am ashamed to tell you the out- landish theory I had,” Lilllan said with @ wry grin,“now that we've both had proof tonight that she couldn’t be the dancer, but don't you remember Katherine's weird tale of seeing Mrs. Baker limp out of the house each night at eleven and re- turn at two? You remember she said the woman was so muffled that she could see¢ nothing but her tick- lensed eyeglasscs and a bit of her gray hair. Knowing the Baker pest had been so chummy with Mary that it made you uncasy, I wondered it the muffled figure might not be Mary disguised to resemble Mrs. Baker. A gray wig Js easy enough to procure, you know, and you never went in Mary's room between those hours, did you?” I shook my head in bewildered negation, for her fantastic deduc- tions had been too much for me. “So you see,” Lilllan went on “ft was entirely possible for her to have beeen away from the house during that time.,” can ses your whole premise now,” I said excitedly. “The mask- ed dancer was absent last night for the first time. It was announced that she had been taken ill. heard Jack Leslie say to Noel Verit- zen that a woman friend of the dancer brought the news of her ill- ness, and I myself saw Mrs. Baker talking to Jack Leslie as we entered —— Whitefoot Is Driven Out By Thornton W. Burgess He to himself is never fair Who e’er gives way to grim despair. Poor little Whitefoot! Did ever a little Woodmouse have such a hard time? Here he was being or- dered out of his new home by Chat- terer the Red Squirrel, who claimed | that Whitefoot there. had no business You see, he claimed that that was one of his old storehouses and | that all those pine seeds that were stored in there belonged to him. “Yes &ir, those seeds are mine, declared Chatterer. “You don't think I stored them up for you to eat, do you? Now you get out of here and be quick about it!" My, how ugly Chatterer's sounded! Whitefoot hesitated. You know he had nowhere to go. It seemed to him that he just couldn’t leave. But when Chatterer made a rush at him, ‘Whitefoot didn't stop to argue. He 18 such a little fellow that he is no Florida “THE EVERGLADES” Through Train From New England '.I ll‘lll L'fl.'—'(;“fi:g:.(l A it Out “fi' ight O Florida Gell Cosst L1, O™ Coest Line Florida Mail Atlantic Coast Line Railreed of the South The Stenderd Tickats, m-;fimm‘ information from 840 pam. TAKE IT WITH A SMILE! Parents ave o right to deny 1 child the marvelous benefits from pure cod liver oil. And no reason to, now! For coco cod has a flavor children dove. It's pure cod Liver oil, but it tastes only of rich choco- late, ()’u "l like it, t00!) Give that boy or girl a chance. Paint those cheeks with bl ning coco d. Build sturdy little bodies with the vitalizing vitamins that adound in coco cod. Every drug store has been supplied by now! The Cad Liver Oil that Tastes Like Chosslate or Tablet Porm Dicky | olce | ’s New Phase of ——Revelations of a Wife the night club, and heard him angrily- call her to account for not letting him know something sooner. How it all fits in! No wonder you | thought what you did.” “More than that fitted in to my imagination,” Lilllan said ruefully, “and I certainly worked the poor thing overtime. I didn’t even give Jack Leslie credit for his palpable good taste”-—she threw me a mis- chievous kiss—"in asking you to dance. I thought he was making it the camouflage for the questions concerning Mary which would lead you to think he had not seen her | for a long time.” “I am sure you are right on that score,” I sald, “even though your theory about her belng the dancer has been exploded. He was trying to mislead me, and I am afraid it is because Mary has seen a good deal of him in spite of all our pre- cautions. “I imagine so,” Lilllan assented, “and that's a problem you'll proba- bly have on your hands until we can devise some means of having Jack Leslie shanghaled. I confess I'd relish glimpsing that lily- fingered lad before the mast.” I laughed at her ferocity and she paused for a reluctant grin before | she went on. “Right there, I lald my plans for tonight,” she said, “and as the first step I asked you to take me to Mary's room last night so that I could satisfy myself that she was in her bed. Today the one-armed paper-hanger with the mosquito bites has been a person of leisure compared to me. I've run down every clue I could find to the iden- tity of the masked dances, and every one of them seemed to point to Mary.” Copyright, 1927, by Newspaper Feature Service, Inc. { Ohatterer followed him out to make suge that he really had left | match at all for Chatterer the Red | Squirrel, and he knew that to stop and offer to fight would just ru- gult in an end to everything so far as he was concerned. So Whitefoot [tcok to his heels, But at first he didn't leave that | otd stump. He raced around inside, with Chatterer after him. You see, it was a big stump and there was plenty of room inside. In fact, there were several rooms in it with little passages between. So Whitefoot be- gan a game of hide and seek, with Chatterer trying to find and catch him. All the time Chatterer was growing angrier and. scolding as only Chatterer can scold. My, how that tongue of his did fly! At last Whitefoot was forced to dart out and leave Chatterer in possession. Chatterer followed Iim out to make sure that he had really top of the stump and barked and scolded and scolded and barked, as only Chatterer can. To hear the fuss he made, you would have thought that nothing less than robbery of all his storehouses had take place. | He warned Whitefoot that it he ever came back, he, Chatterer, would kill him. The worst of it was that ‘Whitefoot knew that Chatterer was | quite capable of doing it. Poor Whitefoot! He hadn’t anywhere to | 80 and it looked very much as if he would have to go hunt for a jew home, just as he had hunted for that one. But Whitefoot, though he may be timid, isn't stupid. Thers are bright wits in that trim littla head of his. If there were not, he wouldn't be alive. No, sir, he wouldn't be alive. 8o, though of course he felt bad, he didn't despair. Indeed, he was very far from de- epalr, Whitefoot is one of those who says that any one who gives up to despair just cheats himself. ‘Whitefoot ought to know. If' there is any one in all the Green Forest, or in all the Green Meadows, or who | has had more occasions for despair than Whitefoot the Woodmouse, I don't know who it is. So Whitefoot simply got out of | sight. That is to say, he got out of Chatterer's sight. That wasn't very difticult to do, because you know Whitefoot can hide under almost | nothing. He can hide under an oak leaf. But though he was out of sight of Chatterer, Chatterer was not out of his sight. “Chatterer isn't going to stay lhr‘rv‘ very long,"” thought Whitefoot. 'No, sir, Chatterer isn't going to stay there very long. He doesn't live here and he just hapened over here. That was it, he just happened over here. When he gets tired of scolding, or when he thinks of something else to do, he’ll leave. Probably he'll come back tomorrow to see if T am here. No, sir, I won't be here. That ts, T mean I won't be in that stump. Something else won't be in that stump, too, I can tell him that.” Now what do you suppose White. foot meant by that? (Copyright, 1927, by T. W. Burgess) The next story: & Tantrum.* ’ hatterer Has left. Then Chatterer climbed up on | NEW BRITAIN READ THIS FIRST: Bobbje Ransom is a demure little school teacher whom you would never suspect of being “movie-mad.” But she is. For years she has been dreaming of going to Hollywood, to “break into pictures.” And now, at 23, she firmly makes up her mind to risk everything and go. The only drawback to her ambi- tion to become a film star is the fact that she has no money, for she is the soul of extravagance and spends every nickel she makes teaching school. So she asks her father, a widower, to lend her five hundred dollars, but he angrily re- fuses to finance such a wild-goose chase. Then Bobble threatens to ask her lover, Andrew Jerrold, for the money much to the horror of her spinster aun‘, Gertrude Ran- som, who has been like a mother to her all her life Aunt Gertrude wishes that Bobbie would settle down to school teaching. That night at dusk, Andrew, or Andy, as Bobbie calls him, drives | up to the house to seo her in one { of the *“used” gautomobiles that he buys and sells very successfully. Bobbie asks him to stay there on the porch and talk instead of go- ing out driving or dancing as they usually do when they're together. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER IIT The next day was Sunday. It was to be a blazer—one of those parching days of dry August heat when even the wind is like the breath from a furnace. But it was cool and dewy when Bobbie woke at six in the morning, and stretched her siender body in its thin nightgown. The nightgown was pale-pink silk and all around the neck and | the armholes were little embroid- ered scallops. Bobble had made it, herself, with her clever fingers and it had cost exactly tour dollars !and ten cents. But if you had gone to a shop to buy it you would have had to pay three or four times that much for it. Easily. The dainty white room was filled with other proots of Bobbie's pas- sion for nice things. The curtains at. the window were lengths of sheer white organdy hemmed by hand — by Bobbie’s hand. Under the bed was a small pair of pink satin mules, and on the toe of gach one she had painted a cluster of moss rosebuds with oil colors. She had made the shell-pink dre! ing gown that hung over the chair by the windows. The plain white dresser had an organdy frill all around it, and it was cbvered with cold cream jars and scent bottles, and powder boxes — all of them filled with the most expensive beauty aids that are sold. “Fool nonsense” was the way Aunt Gertrude described these things that cost a small fortune. | Aunt Gertrude was proud of the | fact that she never used so much | as talcum powder on her nose, and she apparently never knew just how large and pink and shiny her nose looked sometimes. K It was very rosy and shiny In- ‘deed when she opened the door of the room at eight o'clock to see {f Bobbie was up. \ She wasn’t. She was still lying in bed, with her hands clasped be- hind her yellow-gold head and her dark eyes fixed dreamily on the ceiling. My stars, girl! Don't you know | it’s breakfast time? What are you | lally-gagging there for?” ghe asked | shagply. “I'm boiling the water for the eggs right now.” Aunt Gertrude had been getting the family up at eight o'clock for Sunday morning breakfast for years, against their will. Both Bobbie and Mr. Ransom wauld far rather have stayed in bed and gone without breakfast, but Aunt Ger- trude wouldn't let them. She just kept nagging and call- ing and complaining until, in sheer desparation, they got up. “If you hadn't stayed out until all hours with Andy Jerrold last night, you'd be ready to get up at a decent time this morning!"” she scolded Bobble. “I heard you mooning around with him 'til way pass midnjght!” She was always scolding about Andy Jerrold. The plain fact of the matter was that Aunt Gertrude hated to see Bobble or any other | woman with a sweetheart, because she never had had one herself, Poor Aunt Gertrude. Men liked her. They liked her sharp tongue and her acid sense of humor, They liked her because she seemed so unromantic and matter-of-fact. And no one ever guessed that 'way down at the bot- tom of her heart, Aunt Gertrude was hungry and starved for the affection and sentiment that she scoffed at. ‘When she jumped up into the bathroom. above the tub was gone, Bobble from the bed and ran On a shelf were all the bath tollet things that belonged to her —sgeranium bath salts from a French perfumer, skin tonies, rose toilet water, lemon shampoo for | her blond halr, and a huge glass jar of dusting powder with a 3 blue velvet puff tucked into the top. Fragrant as any rose, she rushed downstairs to breakfast a few min- utes later, with her damp halr curl- | ing in little rings above her fore- | | head, and the home-made dressing | gsown wrapped tightly around her body. Aunt Gertrude shook her.head in silent disapproval when she came | in and sat down at her place, Aunt Gertrude thought there was some- thing faintly {indecent ahout a woman’s appearing at breakfast in anything but a street dress or a bungalow apron, | Bobble might be her own broth- er's daughter, but she did things that to Aunt Gertrude were stmply | awtul. Using too much strong perfums, too much paint and pow. der, and varnishing her nails with some kind of pink lquid that smelled like banana oil. “If you look like a school te: er, Roberto Ransom,” Aunt trude was fond of -saying, “I like the Btatue of Liberty.” Bobbie often had a wicked de- | sire to answer back that Aunt Ger- h- Ger- look HOLLYW © JOHNSON FEATURES | | was going to loll at home on the | trude really di4 look like tie DAILY 00D GIRL Beatrice Burtox\ © ~author Rl “I1"S THE CHANCE OF A LIFETIME,” AUNT GERTRUDE SAID Statue of Liberty. Because she, did! She was large and massive and heroic looking, with wide shoulders and too generous hips. | ‘“Please pass the liver and bacon, Robert,” she sald now in a large | loud voice to Mr, Ransom who was hidden behind the Sunday news- | paper at his end of the table. | When breakfast wad out of the | way, Aunt Gertrude dressed herself for church. In raln or shine, tem- post or flood or earthquake, Aunt Gertrudé went to church every | Sunday morning of the year. She | said the world would be a better place if there were more people like herself In it — and no doubt it would. “I've left all the vegetables ready to be put on the stove,” she told Bobbie, as she slipped a dress | of navy blue taffeta over her head, | “and the roast is in the pan on top of the oven. Just slip it in at half-past eleven, and put the oller | things on the fire at twelve o'clock. ‘Why don’t you get dressed and come along with me? It would do | you good to hear a sensible ser- mon.” But Bobbie had no intention of | going to church that morning. She | front porch with the movie sec- tion of the Sunday paper and a box of milk chocolates that Andy had bought for her last night. { “No, thanks, Aunt. I'll stay at| home and put the dinner on the| tire for you,” she said comfortably. | By the time Aunt Gertrude came home at a quarter of one, the house was filled with the smell 0(1 bolling ears of corn, with the rich | odor of roast lamb and potatoes browning in the pan beside it. “Where's your father?” asked Aunt Gertrude coming up on to the porch. Her face was more red and shiny than usual, and the close white collar on her dress was wilted a bit with perspiration, “He's gone over to s. Parkins. | She called up for him,” Bobbie ex- plained nervously. Ordinarily a plece of news like that would have sent Miss Ransom off onto a long tirade against the ‘Widow Parkins and all her works. Aunt Gertrude hated the hand- some widow, and had firmly made up her mind that her brother would never marry her if she could stop it. There were several reasons why Aunt Gertrude cordlally detested the widow. The main one was because Mrs. Parkins had just beaten her to the presidency of the Ladles’ Sewing Guild at the church. Another reason was that the | widow was wealthy, whereas poor | Aunt Gertrude depended upon the salary she got from Bobble's father for keeping house for him. She had no other money from any source, But this morning Aunt Gertrude only snorted angrily at the news that Mr. Ransom had gone over to Mrs. Parkins for dinner. And almost immediately her face cleared. She sat down beside Bobbie in the porch swing. “You remember little Jean Bur- rage, don't you?" Bobble nodded. Little Jean Burrage was a mem. ber of the SBunday School class that Bobbie taught every year from September untll June. She was a little blond blue-eved girl of six — a nice little thing. “Well, T was talking to her mother this morning after church service,” Aunt Gertrude went on,) and Bobbie saw then that she t-as fairly bursting with news. Aunt| Gertrude was a born newspad, ~nd | gossip was her specialty. | “It seems that the doctors have just told her that her lungs are affected—that there's a spot on{ them,” she said. “And they've| ordered her off to California for| the winter. She's to go into some | sanitarium, it seems, and she's st | worried to death about poor little | Jean, She wants to take her with | her, and she hasn't a soul in the | world who'll look after her. She thought perhaps you could go. You could take Jean through her first- grade work, too, being a teacher- Aunt Gertrude paused for breath, having rattled all this stopping. Bobble stared at her with her wide beautifully-set eves that looked like amber in the sunlight of the front porch. “Why =~ why,” she stammered. {hoping she's going she asked, and | - | house will off without | wave of astonishment that deep- ened the color in her cheeks and parted her lips as she caught her breath. “Do you mean—Do you think she really means it?" she gasped. 'Oh! To, Californfa! I can't really believe 1t? It seems too wonder- {ul to be true—" She got up and went house, feeling the need something ‘to relieve ment. "Camornn—}!ollywood " she was | thinking jerkily. “Hollywood—mov- ing picture studios—" It seemed like a direct answer to prayer, “It’'s the chance of a lifetime,” Aunt Gertrude put it soberly into words at dinner a half hour later, “to have just une nice little girl like Jean to teach instcad of a whole roomful. It will give ~ou some time to yourself, Of course, I shall misg you, but I wouldn't stand in the way of your going for anything.” It was not until the cottage pud- ding had been caten and the coffee drunk tion that had been on the very tip of her tongue all through the hot heavy meal. “Where is she going in Cali- she asked. “To fan She was actually atraid to ask if Mrs. Burrage were going to take Jean to Hollywood. She was afrald that perhaps she wasn't! < But Aunt Gertrude did not know. “She didn't stay what town she was going to,” she answered, and a gleam of suspicion came into her sharp eyves. I suppose you're to Hollywood, into of her the doing excite- aren't you?" Bobbie nodded. “Well, I hope she isn't!" Aunt Gertrude retorted. “I wouldn't want you to go it T thought she was going to that crazy-fool pjece! You'd probably come back more movie-struck than you went out! Anyway, I think she did say some- thing about San Diego.” At that instant the telephone in the hall rang through the house, CHAPTER 1V Before the telephone had time to ring a second time, Bobbie had the receiver off the hook. “Hello,” she sald, and her voice ‘was not very steady. “May I speak to Miss Ransom — to little Miss Ransom?” asked the woman's voice at the other end of the wite. People often called Bob- bie “little Miss Ransom” to cis- tinguieh her from Aunt Gertrude. “This is Roberta Ransom,” Bob- ble answered, *and this is Mrs. Burrage, isn’t it? Aunt Gertrud was just talking to me about you!" | She was so excited that her breath camé in fluttering gasps. “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Burrage's low pleasant voice went on. “Then ,&u know why I called you, don't you? And 1 was wondering if you could drop in at my house this afternoon for a little while. That is, if you think you'd like to go to Hollywood with Jean and me." Hollywood! Bobble's heart gave a wild leap, and then seemed to stand perfectly still. It seenfed much too wonderful to be true! Hollywood. For a moment che dld not hear what Mrs. Burrage was saying. But when she came back to earth she was asking {if Bobble could be at her house at three that afternoon. “Or course,” Bobbie replied faintly, and after she hdd hung up the receiver she wasn't sure that she had even remembered to dpy “Goodby."” She went hack to the comfort- able sunny dining room where Aunt Gertrude was sipping another cup of coffee, ““Well?” she asked, her rather bulging gray eyes alight with cur- fousity, “was it Mrs. Burrage?” Bobbie nodded. “I'm going over to see her at three o’clock,” she sald happlly. Haloed by its bright hair, her face was radiant with joy. "“Oh, Aunt Gertrude, ien't it simply too, too wonderful! But T wonder if I really ought to go. I'm afraid the be lonely for you, all | day long.” “Nonsense!” Aunt Gertrude was | brisk. “I wouldn’t stand in your way for a minute! I want you to go. 1 want yoy to Ret out in the | world and eee something besides this place, I don’t want you to stay Over her lovely face there went a in & rut all your life the way I | have!” that Bobble asked the ques- | How generous and tine she is, thought Bobble, feeling that she never had really known Aunt Ger- trude until now. “And besides, 1 should like to take a secretarial course at busi- ness school this winter,” Aunt Gertrude explained. “If you were out of the way, I could easily take care of your father without any trouble and take my course, tao. I want to learn how to eArn my liv- ing by doing something Dbesides housework!” She shook her head crossly at the walls of the house where she had slaved for so many, many years. “I've always wanted to be & business woman,” she went on with a quick nod. “For years I've been waiting for & chance to take a business course.” “Just as I've been waiting f r years to get a whack at Holly- wood!” Bobble chimed in. "I tall} you, Aunt Gertie, you can't keep a good woman down.” “Hollywood!” echoed Aunt Ger- trude in ‘a hollow tone, “Holly- wood?” Her eyes stared in sur- prise, and the corners‘of her mouth went down suddenly as if an un- seen string jerked them down. “Why, yes, Mrs. Murrage is going to Hollywood. She said so,” Bob- bie answered. “That's the lovely part of the whole thing — that T golng to get there at last The happiness in her face as she spoke was not reflected in her aunt's face. It remained solemn and heavy. “Well, if Mrs, Burrage is going to Hollywood, I don’t think you'd better go with her,” she said slow- ly, “I certainly didn’t suppose for‘- one mecond that she was going to Hollywood. Robert! Robert! Come here a minute!” There was a creak in the hafl, and ° then the dining room door opened, and Mr. Ransom came in looking shame-faced as he always did when he had “sneaked off” to the Widow Parkins’ house without letting Aunt Gertrude know he was going. “Robert, Aunt Gertrude, Bobbie: “Bobbie, tell Mrs. Burrage.” Bobble did. “You can’t go,"” Mr. Ransom sald decidedly, when she had finished. “I don’t want you to go away from home for six months. Especially to a place like Hollywood. No, you can’t go. I won't have it.” He shook his gray head. Now, you may say it was silly for a girl as old as Bobble Ransom to sit perfectly still and let her father and her aunt\ plan her/fu- ture for her. She was twenty- tmo An age when a great many women are married and mothers of a baby or two. Moreover, she was a woman of education and sense — a school teacher who knew how to hold her | own among other school teachers. But Bobbie Ransom was two dis-| tinct people. At achool she o “Miss Ransom,” a capable up-to- date young woman who knew what she was doing and why she \\nfiv doing it. At home she was “Bobbie”— and | 1o Aunt Gertrude and her father | she was still the same small girl | whom they had ralsed from hem-j Jess babyhood. A small girl, un- | able to make her own decisions. And so they were utterly at sea | a second later when Bobbie got‘ up from the table and faced them, white-faced and stormy-eyed. “How do you propose to stop me, Dad?” she asked. And the very question seemed to open a gulf be- ! tween her and the other two peo- ple in the room. From across it, they stared at her in astonishment, “Why—why—why,” stammered, *“ Just you to go.”” “If T were going any place but Hollywood you would let me go, wouldn’t you?” she asked coldly and clearly. He shook his head. place is at home until she mar- ries,” he said gravely. “A girl should go straight from her fath- er's carc to her husband’s.” Bobble laughed. “Stuff and non- zense!” she answered. “You won't get very far believing old-fashioned bunk like that, Dad. Mayhe ‘hey treated women like that when you were young—but it doesn't go any more. Women do as they please these days, and they don’t ask any- body's permission, either!"” Mr. Ransom looked helplessly at his strong-minded sister. *Oh, it's true,” Bobbie went on gaily. “Even Aunt Gertrude fs| getting ready to sow a wild oat. She's going to study to be a scte- nographer this winter.” “A secretary,” corrected Gertrude. Mr. Ransom did not seem to hear her. He was still looking at his) beautiful daughter in a baffled puzzled way. “You'd better go and telephone Mrs, Burrage that you can't go with her, or T shall,” he sald as if she had been 10 years old and ex- tremely naughty. Again Bobble laughed. “Do as you please,” she told him airily, “it won't do you any good. Because I am golng over to see her, and I'll tell her not to pay any attention to you, So you'll only be making a fool of yourself if you talk to her.” She turned to go. “Bobbie, what's got inte you he asked, holding the knob of the door so that she couldn't go. “Don't you like your home?"” “Love it,” sald Bobbje. *“Some- times. But right now, I want to go away from it for a while.” ‘ “She's just cragy-mad to get out to Hollywood, with all those fly-by- | night actors — that's what's got into her, if you want to know!" burst out Aunt Gertrude. “If Mrs, Burrage were golng to go to some | quiet place, you'd see that she'd never go one toot with haer! She's going just because she thinks it's her chance to bleach her hair and get into the movies, the silly thing!" “Rleach my hair, Aunt Ger- trude? Why on earth would I bleach my hair?”’ Bobbie asked, drawing out a strand of it to its pale golden length, “Don't be silly, yourzelf!” She went upstairs to get dressed. At half past two another *used” car drove up hefore the house. From the window of her bedroom, #it down!” commanded | and then turned to | your father about Mr. Ransom won't allow | “A girl’s Aunt Bobble saw Andy Jerrold get out of it and run up the front walk. Until that moment she had for- gotten that she had a date to go swimming with him. She went downstalrs to him, all in crisp’ white organdie that bil- lowed around her Hke morning mist. ¥ Oh, Andy, I'm 8o sorry!” she sald, locking up at him with eyes that were like amber . between thetr thick theatrical-looking lashes, “I forgot all about our swim, ."d I promised tp go to see Mrs. Liur- ragt It's very important—busi- nes: i “Who the hotef bill is Mrs. Burrage?”" = Andy wanted to knpow, and then went on without waiting in ) to be answered. “I'll there on our way to pool.” He sat In his car outside Mrs. Burrage's virginal white house, while Bobble was In it talking to Mrs. Burrage. And when she came out, he asked her no questions but went on singing some senseless ditty about being “crazy to stick along no matter where she g It was after their sw out-of-door pool that belonged to | Jack Larkins, some wealthy frienc of Andy's who were in Europe for the summer, that Bobbie told him about Mrs. Burrage and Hollywood. They were sitting on the wide diving-raft, drying their hair in| the sunlight when she told him | about it. Between them, lay on the sun-baked boards of the raft, and over it lay Andy's big brown one. “When do you go?” and Bobbie told him weeks. “I'm to llve in a family hotel with her little girl, Jean, and teach her and look after her,” she said. “She's going to pay me two hun- take you the Larkins he asked, in three n in an | her hand | dred o month. Just think, Il te right there where all the movie- studios are, and perhaps I'll get a chance to be in a picture. Don’t you think it's perfectly wondertul, Andy?” Andy Jerrold dld not answer. He just stared down at the clear bright water of the pool, and then across it at the Larkins’ deserted house. | “What are you so gium for?" Bobbled prodded him. “Aren't rou | pleased about it?" He smiled. “Pleased?” he asked. “It’a nothing for me to write to the newspapers about, is {t? My (sh'l going away for eight or nine | months to a burg like Hollywood? | Why in the dickens would I be { pl~ased about it?"” | He got up and shook himselt. | *“Come along. Let's go,” he said | shortly. | "I may as well alive,” he remarked were half way back to Locust | street in his used car. “You haven't any use for me—I may as | well start looking around for some other girl. There must be others. it I'd enly look for 'em.” | “You ‘talk like a six-year-old | spoiled child,” Bobbie told him | sharply, running her-, hands | through her damp curly hair. “And don't kid yourself that I care whether you start going out with other girls, Andy. I'd be glad if vou found a nice one and marrled | her. T would, really.” | She meant it, too, when she said | it. 1 (To Be Continued) | Bobbic buys her trunk — and doesn’t use it, in the next chapter of “The Hollywood Girl.” The J‘ unexpected happens, and then i something even more unexpected! forget you'rs when they Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of Illness | Editor - Journal of the American BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN' Medical Association and of Hygeia | the Health Magazine. There are in the United States about 150,000 physicians and, ac- codding to the United States census, between 20,000 and 235,000 hcalcrs of other varieties. Most of the latter are devoted to systems of medicine lieve that all disease is due to & single cause, and that all disease can be healed by treating that | cause. Scientific medicine, on the other hand, recognizes a variety of causes, including germs, disturbances of the chemistry of the body, physical in- juries to the tissues and other dis- turbances of physical states. Qualifications If a person desires to consult a physician, he will do well to be guided by the (following facts: A phy=sician who is licensed to practice medicine and surgery by the state has been given an examination ei- ther in that state or in some other| state from which he came, In these times he {is probably a graduate of a medical school which requires a certain amount of pre- liminary education, at least four vears of medical education and a year of internship in a hospital. If he s a well-recognized physi- clan, he is probably a member of hiz local medical soclety, his state | medical society and of the Ameri. | can Medical Association. He will be recognized by his friends as a man of good personal habits, and will be regarded generally as a re- putable member of his community. What Other Doctors Think The best test of a physician is not what the public in general thinks of him, but the manner in which he is regarded by other physicians. As a testimony of the regard in which he may be held by other physicians, he will probably be a member of the medical staff of some hospital, or assoclated in some manner through clubs or other relationships with other physicians in the community. The {ndividual physiclan is not boastful of his skill; he will never guarantee.a cure, and he will originally never exalt his merits above those | of other physicians in his commu- mtg; ¢ practically every community ofsany size nowadays there is =a which be- | county medical society. It {8 pos- sible to learn' the name of the eec- retary of such a soclety, and he | may be taken as a reliable source |of information as to the repute jand honesty of physicians in the community. | Ménus for the’Famin (By Bister Mary) Breakfast—Stewed prunes, cereal, | thin cream, ham toast, creamed po- | tatoes, graham muffins, milk, cof- | fee. Luncheon — Parsnip chowder, | croutons, lettuce and cream cheese | sandwiches, apple snow, molasses cookies, milk, tea. | Dinner—Itallan stew, baked po- Aatocs‘ creamed carrots, cabbage-cel- | ery-pineapple salad, Boston cream | ple, whole wheat bread, milk, coffee. “Threads” of pimento are added to the dinner salad to give a bit of color. A French dressing made with lemon juice and without mustard Is the perfect dressing for | the combination of vegetables and fruit. » Parsnip Chowder One slice salt pork, 1 small onlon, 2 cups sliced parsnip, 1 cup sliced potatoes, 3 cups bolling water, 1 tea- spoon salt, 1-4 teaspoon pepper, 3 cups hot milk, 1 tablespoon butter, 3 large soda crackers. Remove rind from salt pork and cut in small pieces. Try out fat in soup kettls, 2dd onion cut in thin slices and simmer filve minutes. Scrape and slice parsnips and pare and slice potatdes. Add to onion and pork, pour over bolling water and | stmmer until vegetables are tender. | It will take from 20 to 30 minutes | Add salt, pepper, milk and butter &nd bring to the bolling point. Split crackers and place in a hot serving dish. Pour over chowder and serve. isome people prefer to dice the veg- | etables instead of slicing them. Bac- | on can be used in place of salt pork. | | | | (Copyright, 1927, NEA Service, Inc.) TF WOTHERS OALY KREN cnndm arevom*- Yr Heuuehn. ‘everls] tomach Troubles -mi Tireediar Bowels and take ocold easily. It mothers only knew what MOTHER GRAY'S NW- o DERS do ) their children no unny \ wvn:uwlover behwumt m for nse when need- ;:r?mn.:r M'as° P efeotire. tha and s0 ve o ARYSUBSTITUTE mothers who once use them always tell others about them. At all Druggists, Trial Package FREE. Adaress Mother Gray o, 1e Roy, K. Y.