New Britain Herald Newspaper, February 3, 1927, Page 12

Quicksands of Love Adele Garrison’s New Phase of Revelations of a Wife—— An Amiable Little Plot Against {less. I knew that she was enjoying Mary and Noel my embarrassment with delicate, At Lillian query as to how I was/good-humorcd malice. to manage an opportunity for Mary | to meet Noel Verltzen 1 £hook my | The Plot “Mary's sixteen,” she sald, after head. “I confess I'm at sea,” I said. “Of {a pause, and I thanked my partic- ular little joss that she had switch- course, it's a very easy matter to invite him here to dinner—in fact, [ed her subject of conversation, “and at that age novelty is the greatest I already have told him that I want- | ed him to come to us for dinner| attraction in the world. But she some evening. I never have sent |Mmustn’t be given a chance to antici- him a definite date, however. But|pate his coming and thus set her 1 am afraid Mary will balk at meet- | prejudices against him. We must ing him. I fancy I told you that|take her by surprise. But how? Jack Leslie improved the time of his | That’s the question.” meetings with her to fill her brain| She cupped her with his side of that old feud with | With her elbows on the Veritzens. I am sure she belives 0ld familiar attitude. But she only Jack Leslie to be innocent and per- | remained in that position for the secuted, and that she regards Philip | fraction of a minute. Then she | Venitzen as a cruel and unscrupul- [Sprang to her feet ous persecutor, as well as being ovel “I have it!” she said. “I'll invite much touted in his line, Whether you and Dicky and Mary over some or not she belives Noel to be a thief, | €vening, after I have made sure as Leslie undoubtedly has told her,|that Noel Veritzen can come to me 1 do not know. But it's going to be | on that evening. We'll say nothing | & delicate job to have him.” to Mary about it, so when she ar-| “I'l radio the ship at sea, its all [rives there will be nothing for her of that, and then some,” Lillian to do but be courteous. I'll trust commented. “But all of this is all | Noel to keep up his end when he the more reason why the little idiot |catches sight of her. She is the should be given an opportunity to|loveliest thing."” mece for herself how perfectly fa “But, Lillian, how cinating Noel Veritzen is. He's too |relapsed into shocked silence as T much the son of his father not to realized that, carried away by my have wellnigh irrgsistible ways with | concern for Mary, I almost had ask- him as far as women are concerned.” [ed her how she could manage to en- We were looking directly at each |tertain us at dinner in her limited Pther as she spoke, and 1 fancied I|quarters at the second-rate hotel in saw a distinct twinkle of her eyes; which she was living. as she referred to the elder Veritzen. 1 was furlous with myself that I| could not kecp my eyes expression- | hin in her palms er knees, in the " I began, then Copyright, 192 spaper Feature Service, Inc. but the flip sort of girl whom you'd land another extra girl, Monica Mont NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1927. <HOLLYWOOD GIRL: © JOHNSON FEATURES | READ THIS FIRST: Bobbie Ransom, blond school teacher, a pretty little is anything | pect to be “movie struck.” But| she is. For years she has been | dreaming of going to Hollywood to break into pictures. Neither her father, a widower, nor her Aunt Gertrude, nor Andy Jerrold, who wants her to marry him, will lend her the money to go on “such a wild goose chase.” And because she's extravagant and spends everything she makes, sh has no money of her own. Finally she borrows $500 from the well-to-do Widow Parkins who is going to he her father's second wife, and goes to Hollywood with a high heart and a full purse. At the boarding house of the ec- centric Mrs. Mangan she meets Stella Delroy, who's an extra girl in the movie: Through Stella she gets two days’ work at the Magnifica Studios in a picture directed by famous Roy Schultz. The assistant director, Gus MacCleud, a handsome bachelor, takes great interest in her, advises her to play up to him. Monica is a gold digger, and Bobbi: is dreadfully upset when Monica decides to come to live at Mrs. Mangan's, for sha never pays for anything that she can get for noth- ing. MacCloud invites Bobbie to go to the Mexican gambling town of Tia | Juana with him, and tries to make love to her, but she rebuffs him. She feels that he's too sure of her. But after Roy Schultz's wife, Lot- | tie, tells her that both MacCloud | and her own husband are interest- | ed in her carcer, Bobbie begins to be nice to him. Slowly she feels paper clothes closet. face of the the C the c: 80 but to ever, he Mangan’, on the pillows and peace- o “I don't know It was she were p: of for rowed chiefs, Ler face powder as if it own. Bobbie. sn't it wee; ntral much to wa stand having her in not,” she told herself, miserably. . worse even that she ex- pected it to be, for Monica simply took possession of the room, ving She played hours ev Bobbie's her silk stockings, and w k, v nice that we the same ‘shade?” cheerfully, dabbing it and neck and arme. I haven't any of my own left On an afternoon toward the end | Bobbie tired and discouraged by a visit to | casting _office sting office of Magnitica. She had gone to Magnifica, not |was in a great hurry to f slippers in whether I can with me or the rent instead the radio She bor. handker- d her night. clean were both would k all over her “Decause use she k came home see the casting director, | e Gus MacCloud. s nowhere in sight. How- 1 haven't heard from him arly a week," v home, Roy Schult n test they think I'm no good.” w “And she thought, on not a word Maybe Mayhe either. a5 poor. She went up the stairs of Mrs. house tg her was in wild disorder and the smell | of the “Subtil” perfume seemed to room. Tt on its | the | ag if | and \oJ Beatrice byB urtor\ -author of CoLovE BounD* *HER MAN* "HONEY LOU ETC | auiet place to herself, especially at|to her lips with fingers~that shook night when she could sit propped up against fully read herself to sleep. She liked to have everything in }mere was a smile in them. its place—every dress on its hang. er, every pair trees, every hat covered with tissue | whispered the top shelf a little, In the mirror her pools of shining amber eyes were light, and The corners of her mouth went up. “Oh, I'm happy—happy! she to the girl in the glass, and ran down the stairs. | Mrs. Mangan was standing at the front door, talking to some one, land she turned around just as | Bobbie reached the hottom of the |stairs. In her hand she held a | telegram, | “It's for you,” she said. Her eyes were round and frightened. She stood behind Bobbie and tried to sec what the m age said. I always go all of a tremble when- ever telegram comes to the house,” she declared. “Oh, I do hope ther no bad news in this lone. Miss Ransom, dear.” She | | aln wrung her hands as she | spoke. “It's from home!" “My Aunt Gertrude Oh, what WILL T d ver Ve left her. ve stayed with her! out of doors there came loud honking of Gus machine. Evidently he | be back a t ' gasped Bobbie. is sick—appen- i 1 | | | dicitis! hould ne should ha From the sudden | MacCloud's at his house. | Bobbie ran out to him, holdin Ithe telegram in her hand. ‘Oh, I'm sorry, but I can't go | with you!” she said, and her breath came jerkily between the words. “I've got to go home. My aunt’s dreadfully sick, and my father wants me to take the first train | for home.” | MacCloud was silent. He stared | moodily down the length of the street and grunted She had a glimpse of him from the window of the car as her train pulled in. Andy, all alone on the platform, looking so sober that she never guessed how his heart had begun to pound at the sight of her. She came straight into his arms and kissed him about the way she would have kissed an older brotner if she’d had one. Calmly, and without warmth. She had been thinking of Gus MacCloud most of the way home, and suddenly she thought of him again as she kissed Andy Jerrold. She thought of the way Gus had kissed her that night in his white hillside house. Those Kkisses had meant something. They had left her thrilled and breathless — and even now she caught her breath a little at the memory of them. “Good old Andy,” she said, look- ing up at the man beside her. She hadn't realized that Andy was 80 geod-looking. That clear, smooth brown skin, with a little scar near the mouth. And his eyes so keen and clear — Andy would make an awfully satisfactory husband for some nice girl, some time. “Where are your bags?" he asked and she waved her hands helpless- ly. She hadn’t noticed where the porter had put them when he lifted them from the train. A red cap must have taken | them,” she answered vaguely, look- ing around her at the hurrying peo- | ple. “Wait he for Andy said, and dashed away. In a couple of ! minutes he was back. “It's all right. I found them and | put them into my car. Come| long.” He led the way to where | his car was parked outside of the station. Andy never had a car for very long time — only until he could 1 it. This one was dark blue with shining windows and | v velvet ts. They got in and he tucked a rug| around her knees. She leaned heavily against him as they started | m | on— stay in the Locust strcet house an- | other minute, but rush off to make the next train for Hollywood—and MacCloud. Then the mood would claudy weather, and she would go about her work again singing at|thin crcam, crisp broiled the top of her lovely voice—swing- | fried cornmeal mush, syrup, ing the dustcloth like a banner of | coffec. freedom, polishing the f\n‘niturnn‘ Luncheon—DMaock sausages rinsing out the tea towels andicd celery, new onioms, rye hanging them out in’the cold crisp | sliced oranges, eocoanut sunny air to dry. milk, tea. ¥ “Dgd,” she sald, looking up at| Dinner — Boiled fish with cgs him, want to go back to Holly- | sauce, plain boiled potatoes, ten-min- wood. "But I hate the thought of | ute cabbage, head lettuce with Thou- leaving you. How would it be if I|sand Island dressing, bran rolls, open stayed at home another month | apricot pie, milk, coffee. while I broke some good woman in | Stewa dried apricots are rubbed here as housekeeper? She could ' through a colander to remove the make you just as comfortable as skins. Orange juice and sugar are Aunt Gertrude her voice broke added “to taste” and the mixture and then went on—"as Aunt Ger- | used to fill a baked pie shell trude did. Or almost as comfort- | Whipped cream is piled over the top ‘able. T'd stay here forever with 2 dellaloliy dessert: Tesiilta: 'you, if it meant just giving up | Mock Sausages school teaching. But giving up my | chance to make good in pictures is another thing. I've a wonderful start—" Her voice trailed off. She knew | a1, 1-§ teaspoon pepper, milk, her father hated the thought of her | oak beans in cold water to mor living in Hollywood, and she didn't | tnay cover for three hours. Drain want to talk about it too much OF | Cook in boiling water to which 1-4 teaspoon soda has been added for too often. But his face did not grow stern | ten minutes. Drain and rinse in cold | water. Return to sauce pan and at the sound of the word this time. Instead it cleared suddenly. !])uul' over boiling water to cover mmer until tender. Drain and rulb He gave a little dry laugh. “Well, it so hapened that I was going to ns through a strainer. Add talk to you about that very thing | crumbs, nuts, egg slightly beaten. this morning,” he said. “And I melted butter, salt and pepper. Mix well and add milk to make moist didn’t know how to do it. I couldn’t Shape in the form of frankfurters, sée how we'd settle everything. But your wanting to go back to rollin crumbs, brush over with melt- ed butter and brown in a hot oven Hollywood straightens it all out. 3, (Copyright, 1927, NEA Service, Inc.) Mrs. Parkins and 1—M Parkins At Palm Beach Menus for the Family lift like (By Sister Mary) Breakfast—Baked apples, ccreal, bacon, milk, , creain- bread, cooliies, is One-half cup dried lima beans, cup fine drled bread crumbs, 1-2 cup | chopped nut mea 3 tablespoons | melted butter, 1 egs, 1-2 teaspoon nd I thought that since yow'd left home and your aunt had passed He groped for words. “I—we—I think we may as well get married. She and I” e finished at last. “There's no usc in my living alone | here when she has a comfortable home where we could live to- herselt falling in love with him, ‘ ShEw Bap 5 be more overpowering than usual: | ™.y ” He threw his motor off through the cool fresh A Glorious By Thornton W. Burgess When life scems dull with blue, A good surprise will change one's view, —Ch and tinged erer the Red Squirrel Chatterer the Red Squirrel is not easily discouraged. No, sir, he isn't easily discouraged. When he starts gomething, he keeps at it. Chatter- er had started out to find some new storehouses. 'That is, he had started out to find some places that he could use for storehouses. He had had one busy day, he slept soundly. You see, he was tired. But the next morning he was off again. “I'll find a new -tore- house today or my name is not Chatterer,” he muttered. Wttle farther away than T Thave been before. It will be good business to go farther away, for other folks are less likely to hunt for anything of mine farther from home.” So Chatterer traveled through the trectops, jumping from one Lree to another where the branches almost met, and presently he was far enough from home for him to feel that no one was likely to look there for a storehouse of his. Then he be. g£an to hunt high and low for a| good hiding place to be turned into = storehouse. For a long time he found nothing that suited him. Then he discovered a tall dead stump. Others had dis- covered that stump. Drummer the Woodpecker had had a fine time on that stump. He had made many little Yoles in it, little holes that went in only half an inch or so. He had . made them in digging out grubs wheih were ltvingin that old stump. But halfway up he had made a real hole. In fact, he had made one in which to make his home. He hadn't used it for a year or two, so there it was for any one else to use who wanted it. Chatterer didn’t think of 1t as a possible storchouse. He was Just curfous about it. He wanted to ace it any of the other feathcred folk had been living in it. So Chatterer scampered up, poked his head inside. It was a nice hole. | It pleased Chatterer at the first look. He began to think it might do bim far a home sometime if he wanted to make a change. So followed his head into the hole. “Huh!" sald Chatterer. Fody's had a nest in here. der who it was.” You see, C 1 won- terer had found some nice soft material, | material that would make the softest nicest kind of a bed. But Chatterer didn’t curl up in it. Not a bit of He right away began to examine that bed. He wanted to sce how much of that ni there was. He pulled away. You see, he wanted sec how deep that hole was pulled away that soft bed his hands felt something hard. He stopped. Yery carefully he felt of v had found. It was three-sided. were three quite sharp edges. terer didn't have to see it to what he had found “A beechnut!" der his bre wonder if there are any mors You should h tear that bed to didn't take him half a discover that that hed to hide from searching rnicest lot of swee terer had seen. 1 s ow exclaime chnut 1 un- bec 1 the 1t to piec minute t heechn hey were those beethnuts h: stored away and from him y as good, 1 out. had which The e had were just ex: asted one to “They eame from the very tree that those beechnuts I came from,” muttered Chatterer. know the flavor. Yes, T kn flavor. They came that tree. T wonder’ sudde though struck Chafterer. be—could it be that theee were his lost beechnuts? same had L rom vy A really Could of the one who had -stolen beechnuts from his storehouse? and that night | “T'll go a| he | “"Some- | * |insigni w the gy Could n it | 1 ba that he had found the storehouse those Sud- but she never loses sight of the fact that he can help her become a film actress. One night he takes | her to an actors’ henefit, and to- ward midnight suggests that they leave and drive down to the ocean. Despite the lateness of the hour, Bobbie says she'll go, and ‘hey start off. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XIX It was a blow to Bobbie to hear from Mon own lips that she, too, had been a visitor at Gus Mac- Cloud’s hillside house. It always is a blow to a woman to find out that there have been other women in the life of the man she happens to be in love with. “And yet,” Bobbie told herself, remembering that she had secen | Gus with at least three other women in the time she had known him, “It's only natural that a good- looking bachelor in his thirties should have had love affairs by the dozen.” She ‘slowly stirred the coffee in the cup that was balanced on her knees. **Moni from it, Gus Monica shoulders. “Come on in my room a minut I want to show you something, she said, and jumped up. “Tt came night just after you left with looking up you know a,” she sald, “How well do A\ shrugged Ther slender ome- here” | “Huh!” said Chatterer. body’s had a nest in denly Chatterer was quite sure that it was. He grinned all over. This was the most delightful surprise he had had for many a day. they're mine,” he kept saying and over. “I know they're mi: (Copyright, 1927, by T. W, Burgess) The next story: “Chatterer Works and Plans.” Bobbie put on her kimono and slippers and followed her across the the hall. On the table in the cen- ter of Monica's room was a radio. An expensive looking one. “Where did you get it?" Bobbie | asked, and Monica laughed her shrill, gay laugh, “Oh, from one of the electricians over at the studio,” she answered. | “His brother has a store where they scll these things and he's been ding-donging at me for a month to buy one from him. So I told him to bring one over and here it is. 1 hope they don't expect me to pay for it. If they do, they're going to be awfnlly disappointed. She shook her head sadly. “I haven't ten dollars to bless myself with,” she went on, closing the door of the room gently and lowering her voice. “And I was just going to ask you to do me the biggest kind of a favor, Bobbie.” Bobbie looked at her, waiting for her to go on. “I was \going to ask you it I and my radio could move into yout room with you for just a week of s0,” Monica explained, after a mo- ment's hesitation. “You see, neither cne of us would have to pay Mrs. Mangan as much money that wa as we do now. And honestly, Bobs I'm just stony br.ke. If you won't take me in, I'll have to go and sl p in the park until I get work.” Bobbie's eyes traveled her up | and down. She looked tawdry in | her flashy clothes, but there \-as a | genuine diamond in a ring on her left hand. How could anyone be stony broke with a ring like that. “All right, when do you want 10 double up? Today?” she asked, wishing she had the cowrage to | suggest to Monica that she sell the diamond. She almost offered to lend Monica the money to pay her boari hill, something told her that if she it once, there would be no end to the money Monica would borrow from her. But all the same, she hated the thought of having Monica in room. For sloppy. ! How to Keep It— Causes of Illness BY DR. MORRIS FISHEIN [Editor Journal of the American Medical Associatiop and of Hygola, the Health Mazazine Hundred of books are available innumerable ar cles have been writ- ten to prove that their authors have discovered the secret of the deter- Imination of th e sex of an unborn |child. Among the peculiar unproven |theories which have been advanced |are the views that the matter is gov- erned in some manner by the dlet; |that the amount of sunlight received [by the mother has something to do |with it; that tfie age of the parents is the determining factors; that the eating of an unusual amount of sug- ar will incline toward maleness; that the side on which the mother rests has some definite influence, usually the right side for boys and the left for girls. As has been stated, practically everyone of these theorics has been disproved by the assembling of a |sufficient number of statistics to es- tablish the falsity of the view. A. S. Parks of Manchester, Eng- land, studied the records of $000 births in a hospital in that city. These | figures showed that if the mother s | voung, the chances are greater that the haby will be a boy, and when the | mother was over forty, the proba- bility was that the child would be | However, cant track entusiasts r upon them others around twe ould be 1.2 to 1 for a mothers around forty 0.9 to 1 for a hoy dence ind ¢ ost important e sex of th the proportions were so t even fanatical race would not place a | The odds for nty years of age boy, and for | years of age | Monica was Her own room was fairly running over with things that shiould have been hung in the clos- t or put away in dresser drawers. sckings of an amazing thinness » slung across seats of ng that abtil” perfum used lay in corners one thing, selentif it heredity is the | ctor in determin- | Moni child room. Monica apparently ity ped out” of it night undressed herself. The dresser w der puffs, roug packa cigarett that Monica used for h | complexion, water-wave combs gled up in hair nets, soiled kerchiefs and tissue for removing cold cream from the skin. There was a plate of dried brown apple cores on the table beside the radio. The radio! Bobbic W Mon ould keep that radio all time. Tt was ter to Monica and | room with ! of the 18t pparer st excercises matter. T cells of two kind which male ele s a ma hoxe s of pow- chocolate in one of ments pre- dominate . or fema the parents vothing in ‘ncing the their progeny. The matter |#11 determined for them in advance. ¥ s s of Children like Kno - KEMP'S 'BALSAM ing o L that her. Sha Foing radio in the same Aldn't want anyone with was Bobbie put things Monica had Then, away. left around — ribbons, handkerchiefs, strings of beads. all at once, groaned as she began to Things that she saw that Monica had left a note pinned on the blue. on the dr “T've gone t He telephoned for both of silke pin-cu er. “Bobbins dear,” she had p to hion that stood Gus MacCloug us. 1 Torrowed your black satin dress to wear. You're come right along, too, Supper e party!” She had not signed it. But vou read th thing! Ni is. to bie told herself have known writing, seen ft. it was Mo; no matter where she had | It was like cab nd the o get a he would ca's hand- that Monica—wild and hurried and careless looking. “I won't go!” Bobbie said aloud, | and she said feeling. The it bitterly and with least Monica done was to wait for her and drive | her up in her car! to go rushing off ahead of her to| have an hour or o alone with Gus | No as she tried MacCloud! vamp him, d could have Rut no, she had oubt trying to to vamp every man who came along. “Sure, T belie thing from every man that I she had told Bobbie only the “And all betore. e in getting ever: an, night that stops me from getting more from them than 1 do is that instead of four!” = . e The telephore in rang loudly. “A gentieman for you, I have only two hands the upper hali dearie Mre, Mangan's voice came floating up from downstairs. It was MacCloud, and at the sound of his voice Bobbie hegan to weaken. She knew she was going up to his “nize party” after all. Not that she fclt like meeting a lot of new people, b ut because she ‘would see him again, her. “T'll for you.” Well, coming clicked ou've got send everybody home it you don’t come. I'll be up the to for re back to her room. She cream-colored the house. “Be right down!"” she leaning from the window to him, of her room. car come,” e told that was different — if he Bobbie and flew her! ceiver 1> was trig and fresh in a tan silk sports dress and hat when his stopped before sang out The sight of him lolling there be- hind the wheel of the sweater his excited in and Sor Coughs/ : her! e liked having the orderly her, added a last touch of scarlet p: “IT'S FROM HOM Li" long low car and cap, thrilled somehow. aint Bob- | right down ! into gear. “Well—sorry. See you later, maybe!"” Bobbie gasped. “For cat's sak You act as if I'd hurt vour fe ings! I should think you'd be sym- | pathizing with me instead of act- ing like this!” He swung his head, and kept his {eyes straight before him. “No, but it's doggoned funny that you never can do anything I want you to do,” he said, sulkily. “Rushin just because your aunt tummy ache, or something! {when I throw a party for you! et your aunt isn't half a | you pretend to think she {don’t you long-distance your folks back home and find out exactly how she i Bobbie shook her They wouldn't send for weren't dreadfully sic {him firmly. “I've got |T've got to go right away. very first train She stopped. Tor without other word, MacCloud was gone. His car slid into motion and |moved down the street between the palm trees and the neat |lawns! He did not look back, al- | though™ she watched him until he was out of sight. ond Bobbie hated him. | just a big spoiled | said to herself. “He really fsn't worth bothering about. She could imagine Andy Je rold, for instance, acting the way MacCloud had just acted. But she kept thinking about him, instead | of poor Aunt Gertrude, all the time she was packing her bag and tele phoning about trains. It was more than two hours aft- erward that she read her telegram once more, as the train moved out [ot Los Angcles and headed toward | home. i She looked back at its receding {lights with wistful, unhappy eyes. “I'll be back soon,” she promised herself, staring out of the window at the darkness of the countryside a halt hour later. Against fits blackness she secmed to see a man's face with fine features and a pair of close-set sulky blue eyes. “I wonder how well Monica and he know each other,” she mused, thinking of them in the white plas- ter house on the hillside right at | that moment—together. Then she gave an impatient shake. “Oh, he wouldn't look at |Monica!” she Xkept telling herself. | But she wasn't so sure of it, at that! CHAPTER XX It was Andy Jerrold who met | | Bobbie at the station. has a Just | head. “No. me i sl she told to go and, The | an- T "another | Bob |his arm around her, drawing her | close to him. ! didn't want to shock you, but your | —the air. ¢ | Somehow even there in the heart jof the city it smelled of autumn— of burning leaves and rain-soaked | carth. “How's Aunt Gertrude?” ed. “Better, T hope.” Andy did not say anything answer for a minute, and she| turned to look sharply at him, His 1ce had become even more solemn | than before, and the corners of his mouth were shadowed with | fine-drawn lines. He cleared his throat Well, you see—"" Then he stopped and waited for | half minute or so before he finally answered her. “Well, you see it was this way, | he began again. He put Bobbie in and said. “Your father and I aunt—" Then he stopped again. It| seemed impossible for him to go on | for a minute or twt “At the time we sent the tele- gram she was dead,” he got it out | at last. ‘“There was no use jn tell- | ing you until you got here. Dar- ling, don’t cry. Don't cr: He turned the car in toward the side of the street and stopped it, while Bobbie clung to his coat | leeve, sobbing into the rough ! cloth that smelled of pipe smoke. | Aunt Gertrude dead. It didn’t| seem as if it could be true. Why, she was dead while Bobbie was getting dressed to go to Gus Mac: Cloud's party. It seemed impossi ble And think if T had gone! How dreadful I'd feel now!"” Bobbie told hersclf, clinging to Andy Jerrold's rough coat sleeve. She wanted to go, too! Even after she had told Gus MacCloud | that she couldn't go, she'd still wanted to—because he wanted her t She'd wanted to please him, even though she was angry with him for acting like a small spoiled child! . The difference in the two men struck her, all at once. Andy on| the one hand, trying to shield her from the shock and hurt. On the other hand, Gus MacCloud urging her to forget her aunt's sickness and come along to his party with him. “He's a selfish beast,” thought Bobbie, through all her grief and sorrow. “He doesn’t care about nything but himself and his own good time—his own pleasure.” But he was the last person she thought about that night as she lay in her own white bed in the Locust street house that was so quiet—so hushed with the mys- terfous rustling whispering silence at Death brings into a house. It was two weeks later. Bobbie and Mr. Ransom were sit- ting at breakfast in ‘the sunny din- | ing room of the house on Locust street. It was an ordinary breakfast, in a way. Toast with butter on it, sliced oranges, boiled ecggs and coffee with thick cream in it. The unusual thing about it was that Bobbie had cooked it—a thing | that she had sworn never to do. A | thing that she had always detested | idea of cooking, and every other branch of housework. Phe queer thing is that T like it,” she was thinking now, as she | looked at the clean table, the shin- ing silver and china, the spotless rug, the ferns that she had just watercd before they sat down to eat. I T weren't going back to Holly- wood it wouldn't be half bad to stay here and p house for Dad,” she went on thinking, as she broke [off a it of hot buttered toast and | popped it into her mouth, “I might make a good housckeeper if T didn’t want to be a screen actress so | much She during s she | way had not been at all unhappy the last two weeks. Much missed Aunt Gertrude, in a she had not minded being alone in the elean, orderly house. SHE GASPED It had beerf fun to make beds, scour the bath-tub and the nickel | faucets, teleplione for the grocer- |ies, wash ables and put them jon to broil ste | tables. | That is, Vi boil, aks and set it would have heen fun if it hadn’t been for Bobble's home- sick longing Hollywood. Sh didn't know which she missed most | —Hollywood and the |or MacCloud | But there were moments when it scemed to her that she couldn't exel | career she wanted.” led to marry her ever— ment. | gether."” Bobbie looked at him. do you expect to be married?” asked. “Week shortly. Of course, that was the natural thing for her father to do. To marry the buxom, comfortable well-to-do widow. He had t widower for more than 20 and that was no way for a ma live, And yet when he bie went upstairs ing at the picture with heavy wondering It hung over the bed in her room, anl it showed her when she was a voung thing, not much older than Bobbie was now. There were wide flat honey-col- ored braids of hair pinned around her head like a crown, and beneath it her big eyes looked out eagerly, the way Bobbie's eves looked out upon the world today. She had given up her career, n up her starry ambition to be a concert singer to become the wife and mother and what had it availed her? “She might be alive today—alive and famous—if she'd not married Dad and had me,” thought Bobbie soberly. “If she'd gone on with ||wI “When she he answered or two,’ was gone, Bob- and stood look- of her mother eyes. This Basque linen bag in red, yel- | low and white plaid is smart for the woman who takes her recreation on the American Riviera, TLAPPER FANNY SAY T Tn that moment she felt very close to the girl-mother who had died— closer than ever she had felt to anyone in all of her rather loncly life. “She’d have known just how T} feel about going back to Holly- | wood,” she said to herself, and a| | moment later she was wondering | it she'd give up her career If she| loved a man and he wanted to| marry her—If Gus MacCloud “am.l The ringing of the front doorbell | of the house broke shrilly upon her day dream. “Probably another peddler, or a | man selling needles,” said Bobbie | with a sigh as she started down the stairs. She had been experi- encing that greatest of all house- hold pests—the early morning ped- dler—since she had been trying to | keep house, There was a scowl on her lovely face as she swung open the front door to—Andy Jerrold. | “It's only me” he said ungram- | matically. “I thought you might | have some coffee left over breakfast to give a poor blind man | with both legs shot off—" He | limped into the house, looking so | comical and woe-begone that she burst out laughing. “Do you really want some cof- fee?” she asked him, and started | down the hall to the dining room, where the pot still stood on the | table. | He nodded. “Sure. And I came | to see you.make it for me,” he told | her. “I get an awful kick out of | seeing you doing housework. It | makes me look forward to the | happy days ahead of us.” Bobbie wheeled on him, pot in her hand. “Now, don't you start getting soft and sentimental or I'll throw | you out on your head,” she said briskly. “I've heard about all the marriages I care to hear about this morning. Dad’s going to get mar- ried to the widow woman.” Andy grinned. “That just about throws you into my arms,” he said with a gesture worthy of a movie actor. “That leaves you all alone in the world, with no one to lool after you but me—" He was starting ready with more nonsense, | she surprised him by bursting s caught him by the Lv]ml. of his coat, and sobbed into | the o where his shirt-pocket | ..nrm) his heart. | Oh, everything's and | gone to the dickens, | cricd wildly. | Andy. You're alway I'romise me you'll alwa same, no matter what Promise me—" Andy stared up where the sun threw and shadows. “Sure. Tl \Nu\fl bitterly. | That's the king of fool | bie—the kind that never Not about you, anyway could."” Spring styles will look better on a slender figure than on a slen- der income TREE-TOP |ISTORIES THE WATER-DROP FAIRIES MILY liked to be out in the rain. The rain-drops were taking their time about falling through the air. They ran down the branches and leaves slnle and stopped to chat with eacl other. The Fairies are having a game of Water-Drop,” ily said softly. One crowd of ‘Drops’ hopped n a lilactwig all in a row. Than aniay tiey 2l allthe ey ound and hid under & dirt. to the limaa "BI" Goodbye, little Drop- Falrit” calld Empilit Dot et ot dowr there” coffee | toward her, | when | into | tears. e changed, vou, same. be the happens. 'Lvr‘ fo season SAUCES GRAVIES soups POT ROAST GULDENS Mustard the céiling queer lights at never change,” he “That's the trouble, | I am, Bob- chang I wish 1 (To Be Continued) | Andy tells Bobbie to take him or |leave him in the next chapter of “The Hollywood GirlL”