New Britain Herald Newspaper, May 28, 1927, Page 4

Love’s Embers Adele Garrison’s Absorbing Sequel to “Revelations of a Wife” Beginning a New Seri Mary Buckles on Her Armor for “But she's got several more the Love Lists | thinks coming, that oriole,” she said I hurried to my bedroom door | after a little, “If she thinks I'm go- and opened it at Mary Harrison's | ing to play Puss in a Corner while soft call. Her hall was a welcome |she walks off with Noel, she'll diversion to me. 1 had puzzicd |mightly soon find out her mis a enough over the problem presente 1 shot a fleeting wondering glance by Dicky's remarks concerning our at her, contrasting her open dec- | widely dlvergent yet equally mysteri- | laration of war with the way a ous neighbors, the Lincolns, who |typical girl would have acted had had just taken possession of that|she seen a young man of her tr: stately old estate, The Larches, and | ogled for by some other girl. The the two men who were occupying | first move of that Nineteenth cen- the Grimsey shack at the rear of | tury girl would have been to try the farm. | to convince everybody that she had I guessed, however, that Mary's O interest whatever in the young “rrand was connected with only one | man in question. ember of the Lincoln family, and | A generation or two farther hack, + member the one who occupied |and a young woman would have most prominent place in my own retired from the world and “gone houghts. Eleanor Lincoln's open | into a decline,” 1¢ she had faced the ogling for Noel Veritzen's attention | possibility of losing the young man patently had piqued the attention | she loved. The present-day gi and aroused the antagonism throw down the gage 1 Dicky's lovely young niece, tragically or humurously as th 1 threw open my door and admitted temperaments dictate her, T knew that I would have an| 1T put out a tentative little snjoyable and amusing Intery tipped ever so slightly Mary is not only direct in her tr. amused malice ment of 'any problem which arises “I didn’t know befora her, but her methods arc ested in Noel, Mar picturesque as well. She put her b “Am T disturbing you. Auntie | minding rather Madge?" she asked with pretty de- ference as she came in, then broke into tempestuous exclamation. can't help it if T am,” ve simply got to talk to e ir faoler with u were <@ fnter- 1 said. d on one side, re- forcibly of o what a said, iF haven't any plans to Charleston him to the altar, or rien f0 annex as a perni cetie, played T ever did with no long, lean, lank l.and of Nowhere i: im away from mo un im over to her myself on a alve th a card ing ‘Compliments of th she Tve than and the ¥ ‘You conldn't disturh me. d: I said smlling, and drawir ward a chalr for her. “Sit down and unburden your mind. What's on with him anyhods lady Aroun fo t s 1 “That darned cat Larches e rot see the dead set sl and at Uncle Dicl matter? She evl self a regu vamp. And sb i1t all planned to have Nocl lunch there every day. hut she's a fast worker, 1} “I choked into my handkerchief, trylng to pass my mirth off as a cough, byt failing miserahly. \ary fixed me with her bright eyes, then 1 grinned widely. “Go on, laugh.” promptly T availed m permission. After a second of in- declsion she joined me heartily, at “Did ¥ for th e up ] r prayers on retorted o struck a more ¢ dan she ‘4 only - “But exeept safd. Noel aid, and wspaper By Thornton W. Burgess mystery the air doth fill t gives to daily life a thrill. Peter Rabbit Peter Rabbit had gone over to call on Johuny Chnek, It was early in morn Joll; round Mr. Sun was only a little way up on his daily climb up into the blue, blue sky. Peter had remained honie all night tecause of the mystery of Old Man Coyote, who had seemed to be in two places at once. But now ha had tured to run over to see Johnny uck, whcse home was not far away. He wanted to know if Johnny had heard Old Man Coyote and been puzzled. Just as Peter had left the dear Old Briar-patch he had seen 014 Man Coyote disappear in 1he edge of the Old Pasture, where his home is. “Good morning. Johnny Chuck.” sald Peter, as Johnny came out on his doorstep. “I saw Old Man Coy ote disappearing in the Old Pasture a few minutes ago, so I thought T would run over and say ‘hello’ to vou." Chxi\c: T:‘:fl?g"‘“‘- at the same time Johnny has Peter looked hoth surprised and ‘o Pim in another. place. - Be- :uzz]cd, 1 LR Do i e e b RO R e M “You didn't sen 014 Man Coyote 1! disappear in the Old Pasture a few minutes ago,” replicd Johnny Chuck. “What is the reason I didn't? snapped Peter. “Becauss o didnt dis there,” raplied Johnny Chucl dtsappearsd in the Green Fors Nothing of the sort,” orted Peter. “I guess I know Old Man Coyote when I see him, and I gu no one has to keep track of him an better than 1 do. T saw him with my own eyes going into the Old Pasture fust as [ was leoving the dear Ol4 Briar-patch to come over here." “And 1,” said Johnny Chuch him disappear in the Gro when you were half wa the Ml ~ Hiaor, “Good Johnny morning, aid Peter 1ouse and was sitting besia. Johnny 'huck on the doors Johnny and almost rrel over it at 1 to hoih of us at Old Man Coyote must be in . “1 have one place, replied Johnny in me time. you make of that?" 4 Johnny. a0 Nothi ing at ing, Pe now close to my o adm Noth- o one is that to stick aorstep,” John- appear He Dretty | And in this you'l ny was wise, 1927, . by T.W. Burgess) pyright, bbit npare story: the Hare STORIES g BIRD-CHILDREN * ARJORIE heard excited Auttering in the apple-tree. “I's a Mother Wild Canary feeding her baby!” she whis- pered. Away up in the tree she saw a little round hall of feathers sit- ting among the leaves. It was making a loud peeping sound. The Mother-bird fluttered near. And when the ball of feathers opened, she poked a into it. Then she saw Marjorie . . . . and gave a low “peep! . . . peep!” The little ball kept very still . . . . and Merjorie could hardly see it. “Those baby-birds mind their Mothess better then we mind ours!” the said. ed A try to tell I 1 T know en For- advier Letter, H of an ol f from away when it e ould be merely pick and a qu 1 is aolish thing, 1f 1 1 to grin. “Ths ken al T lon't sec how of 1 mistaken, 1 could ‘ nl e T' ¢ im And that vou that about Old Mar night ” Peter nodded Yes" «aid “there was sometr ) queer a it that T remained ome. Man Coyote seemed to be {n nlaces at once.” “That was just it,” said Polly o Chuck, who had q‘m up ou A her s anything bout 014 two Chuck,” ne time. T don't | and seen | WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE | Garrett Folsom is stabbed to | death while swimming at Ocean | Town, N. J. It is believed that the | death weapon was a pichaq, an Ori- | ental knife, and that it was pur- | | chased on the boardwalk. | |, Folsom's bathing companions had toger Neville, a business part- ‘ner; Mrs. Helen Bernaby and Car- | melita Valdon. Anastasia Folsom, eccentric masterful sister of the dead man, takes command, and it is establish- |ed that one Croydon Sears is ! fancier of curlous weapons. Sears | admits buying two knives but not {the pichaq. | Anastasia engages Titus Riggs, an architect, to work on the case. Dan | | Pelton, Tolsom's nephew, arrives land 1s puzzled by the curious ! French dolls in his uncle’s room. Croydon Sears sends for IFleming | Stone, famous detective. He tells | him Folsom had heen blackmailing him and he had lied at the inquest but was innceent. Stone meets o ers of the efrcle, including Ned Barron and his wife, Mudeline, who puzzles him Robin S and | son of Crovdon, is | surprised when Stone mentions the | folls Folsom had owned, and Ston later discovers one doll in the im- | age of Madeline Tarron and learns that 1t was Folsom's favorite doll. | finds that Folsom had re- 1 to his hotel one certain night wheel chair and offers to pay it the chair pusher is pro- tn in a money duced NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY PTER XLVI1 ** the man told Stone, 3ill Bramber.” vou take me fo him so—{f you'll fix it with Stone fixed 1t went forth His guide soon located Rill ehanced to be idle, and wi no wverse to telling anything ew—for o consideration. And he knew a lot. “Ye e said, “T remember the 1. You see, a lady or, & real swell | and they whi matter w |wag my pas tone " sir, all alone. st wanted a breath of ittle rest from folks, or that, They offen do { Well, T rolled her along, and then a mentieman stopped me and he got in with the lady, and told me to roll on. As the lady made no ohjection. it was none my bus- iness, so T pushed 'sm down to the 4 of the rou then ¢urned W rly 1 saca, when the gentleman calls ont for me to stop, and then [the lady got out and got iato an- ir, and he stayed in s roll him on to tha hotel, he ot out there — at the Maju- aca.” “You know who he was?" ! “I dign’t then, Mister, but ne i T found it was the very cb | what was murdered in the occa “Why did you never tell | to anyone?” st | ol this T ‘:«.J,_gf \\ i And Ross, with no thought of melodramatic effcct, the hem of Miss Anastasia’s frock. Merely Margy, An Awfully Swe:t Girl | | + distress Lweln, obody asked me about it. and I'd no reason anything. I couldn’t any bearin’s on the murder 1'd no wish to drag in the lady.” “Do you know who she was? “I didn’t that night, but T've found out since.” “Well, who was she?"” “Her name is Mrs. sir.” “Bramber,” Sione said, “you did right to keep this matter quiet, Now continue to do so. I am authority, nd you'll get in no trouble if you v nothing. But peep one word of it, and you'll be in such trouble as you've never dreamed of. See?" Bramber saw, and egged on by a monetary agreed to keep his own counsel. “What a revelation,” thought Stone as he walked away. “Made- 1lne Barron secretly riding in a chair with Folsom that night, and sneaking into the hotel by herself. 1.00ks pretty positive, but noth- ing's positive till {t's proved. Had the astute sleuth but known it, his suspicions were at that very Barron, { moment being proved up to the hilt. The Barrons, in thelr own suite, were dressing for Juncheon, when Madeline' composure gave way. * she eried, in a sort T can't stand it! of hroken wail, can't ¥ “Of course, can’t, darling. I've only been waiting for this breakdown to come. T knew it must come, bhut T didn’t want to force it. My darling girl, don’t you «uppose I've scen every bit of your struggle, followed every step of your wa for the last few days! T know you so well, sweetheart, every tone of your voice, every 100k in your dear eyes — and now, are you ready to tell me all ahout 2" Tut Madeline, king with sobs, you her whole form st was unable to 3arron taok her in his arms and W her down to the couch, while ted and soothed her. ¥ had, i it, dear? wait till gou're ready to talk.” The great, enveloping love that was hers, instend of helping Made- line med rather to malke her greater, but the wise and £0od man heside her only held her gently to him, and now and then whisper=d an encouraging word Madd he sald, ¥ what you want to, when you like it, only remember, dear- no matter what it is, no mat- vou have to tell me, noth- n shake my love for you the cast mite. And, remember, too, that T am here for you to lean on. Here to protect you from any dan- r or any trouhle. Got that? then, aren't you mearly ready to bhegin?”’ “It's about-—about—" Yes, Madeline, about TFolsom.™ “How did you know “T didn't know. But when you £0 white if his name is mentioned and are nerveus and restless ever i that tragedy, 'T can't help knowing there’s some connection.” “There is.” Madeline suddenly wel, e Garrett knelt and kissed anything to say see as it had and 1 sat up straight and looked at him. “There is, Ned, and I 'm going to tell you all about it and then you can do with me as you see fit.” “Before you begin, dear, let me assurc you that me. I don't need to know details. You were, in some way, treated badly by him, and now it's all past {and over with. Shall we just let it go at that?" P “I'm afrald we can’t, Ned. I | think I shall have to tell you.” ) “Very well, then. We'll skip luncheon for the present, anyway, 3nnd get this over ftirst. Go on, | now.” | He | lips | | held her in his arms, his pressed to the top of her influence, willingly |curly, bobbed head, and though | again. | his heart was torn with apprehen- sion he listened steadily and quiet- ly while she spoke. | “You didn’t know me long ago, {Ned,” she said, slowly. “but I was |a stenographer—" | "Onh, I knew that.” “Well, I was stenographer Garrett Folsom.” His clasp tightened a little con- vulsively, but he said no word. “And—he—he married me—" Married you—' that's it—he he pretended to—" “Madeline, what !ing about? Have mind?" “I wish 1 had. But I haven't. Keep still, Ned, and let me get this over. He took me away with him and pretended to marry me, but it wos a mock marrlage. dian’t. But are you talk- you lost your —just in time. He, Mr. Folsom I mean, didn't know Father, and Jidn't see him, and Father got me y from the place—" “You hadn't been alone with him—" “Not for a minute!” Madelinc looked straight into her husband's eyes and he read truth there. “Father wanted to kill him, but he realized that any revenge or punishment would only bring my name into it and make it worse for me than it alrcady was. So Father took me home, and we moved away to New York, and— and then, I met you.” “My precious, darling and you've beén bearing alone ever since! told me long ago and saved your own dear self these years of secret sorrow. For I know it has been a sorrow to you. Now, Madeline, is that all?"” X s, Ned, that's all.” at's why he kept over, at you, In the ocean morning?"" “Yes; oh, Ned, come in the night before, 1 thought I should scream. And then I went out, as you know, for a chair ride by myself. I | times did that, you know." “Yes, T liked to see you do it once in a while. It always seemed to give you a new outlook or somefhing.” “Yes, I did it when I needed to bring myself up with a round turn, Well, thas night I went out, never dreaming he would follow, and he did, and he got into my | chair—" ‘Go on, dearest, kissed her tenderly. “And he said unless T left you and went away with hiim he would ! publish to the world the story of ny going away with him. And he (said nohody would believe that Father came and took me a fore we were alone a moment. il you didn't kill him, little girl, this all ¥ i looking that and Barron CHAPTER XLYII Madeline told her husband, “hut } think 1 would have done so iit I could have accomplished ft. how was I to go about it, Ned? Well, he gavs me twenty-four hours to think it over, and told me I must make up my mind to go away with him or he would not only tell you, but he would see to it that it was put in the rapers and would be th biggest sort of scandal imaginable. “And you didn't tell me that night?” “I coulinm't. T tried, but T couldn't. T was going to tell you the next day, and then—you know what happer ed.” “Yes. Who killed him, dear?” “Don't ask mo, know, reatly, and ye “But from now on, my girl, there's to be no shadow of a se- erct between us, No tiniest film of shadow, no faintest trace of re- serve. So, come on, out with it And Madeline told him, but he couldn’t believe it. Now, had Miss Anastasia Folsom known all this, she would not have done what she did do. he had finished and had repaired to her room to rest and thi over rmatters per- taining to her brother's death, The new detective, she felt sure, was going to ferret out the truth. He hadn't told Ler much yet, but she kune i itively that he would succeed in finding Garry'’s murder- r and bringing him to justice. her luncheon you needn't tell to | And then— | then Father came and rescued me ! 1 wish you had | when 1 saw him | some- | impelled only by came Myrtle, the And to her, mere curlosity, chambermaid. The girl had been deeply im- presscd by Stone’s surprise and excitement at the sight of the doll Pelton had given her, and she was deeply desircus of knowing who it was that the dool looked like and who was, therefore, Garrett Folsom's best girl. So. without mucli concern, she presented herself to Miss Folsom with the inevitable clean towels, and with the doll slung over her arm. “This i the doll Mr. Pelton | gave me,” she vouchsafed, for Miss Folsom was of a chatty sort when in the mood. “Is 1t?” and Anastasia took the lovely doll in her hands. | | And then, to Myrtle's secret de- | | light, Miss Folsom showed much | | the same amazement and agitation | | that Stone had done. | | But only for an instant. Then | she ¢ was her quiet, dignified self | A beautiful doll, Myrtle. Do | be careful with it, it is & very ex- pensive one.” | “Do you think it looks like any- | {one you know, ma'am?" | | “No, of course not. | pow, you hother me.” | Myrtle went, and as she de- parted, Miss Folsom went to the { telephone and called for Fleming | Stone. | | And when that gentleman pre- | | sented himself, she told the story | | of Myrtle and the doll. | “So you notlced the resem- | blance. too?” Stone sald, his deep eyes sad and his whole face som- ber. | “Of coursc. And so. she was Garry's best love, and so she had | some secret affair with him, and so she is the one who killed him. | “On, Miss Folsom, don't go fast,” he fmplored. | | Dut she was adaman®. | “Past!” T'm going stralght u to her room and confront her wi |it. Then if she is innocent there's | no harm done. You may go with | 'me or not, as vou ke, but I'm! going and I'm going now. i !” And rather than have her go without him, Stone accompanied | her. They found ready to go down to luncheon. | Tarron, eeing that the matter | was of grave import, decided to i Go away D h ! such a possibility. | antique dagger | and my brothers murder the Bagrons getting | avenged.” Folsom's former valet, stepped into the room. oy he said, say. to say, Ross, on the subject we are discussing,” Madeline sald to him. “Please leave the room. I urge you to do so.” Stone stared at her, but the man Ross gave her what seemed to be a meaning look. *I must speak, madam,” he said, “for I have a confession to make. I killed Garrett Folsom.” “You, Ross,” Miss Anastasia said, in utter bewilderment. *Now, why in the world would you kill him " “I cannot tell my reasons for it,” Ross said, with a dogged look. “I only say I confess to the murder and I want to give myself up.” “But, it's too absurd, Ross" Miss Folsom went on. “You were in the hotel at the time he was kilied.” “No, madam, I spoke falsely as to that. I was in the ocean.” “But you were at the other end of the hotel beach. You were far away.” T ecan awim under water, madam, as well as any other w I did so, and I killed my master, and then dressed and returnad to the hotel quickly, &o that I might not be suspected. “And why are you making your confession now?"” asked Stone, who ! was beginning to see through some dark places. “To save the innocent from he- ing suspectec. It is possible that Mrs. Barron may be charged with this thing, and T want to forestall I assure you, Mr. Stone, you will find- T am tell- ing the truth” “Then you are the man with the white mustache who bought the late that night?” Stone satd. “Yes.” can scarcely bel Ross,” Miss Folsom sald, is true, then our quest is end. You shall pay the penalty will be “Yes, madam,” sald Ross. “He shan't! He shall not!" rr“‘dA Madeline Barron, wildly. “Listen! have the whole thing out then and [ that man you call Rosy is my fath- there. | ome tn.” he said, as the v tors appeared. “T think you have some matters of importance to dis- | And that instant Fleming I Stone realized that whatever the 'truth was about Madeline Barron, her husbend knew it. “Yes, we have” Folsom, who was spokesman by I her own election. And there’s no | | nse mincing matters. Mrs. Barron | you were acquainted with my broth- or in the past, although you have | denied it sines his death.” T will answer for my wife.” Bar- id, quietly. “Yes, she was Folsom.” This took the wind slightly out | of Anastasia’s sails, but ghe went | i on. | were in love with him, Mrs. Barron?” “ie was in love with her.” Ned Barron answered, inexorably dster- mined to do the talking himself. And, Miss Folsom, it not an | Thonorable lov ! My brother dishonorable.” “He did, could do nothing | in this instance. He jurcd the girl. not twenty years old {then, away, vnder false pretense | of marriage. By which T mean he | had a marriage ccremony per- formed which the girl thought genuine but which was only a mock marriage. After the cere- mony he laughed at her, and—but I need not go into details; by good ' luck the girl was rescued from | ! his cluiches in time by her, | tather.” Now, | was 10 hor brother, there was onc | ! thing toward which she had abso- lutely no mercy. And that was the wrong-doing of a man toward a Woman. Perhaps her own spin- sterhood made her even more bit- ter, but if she were convinced that her brother had really wronged a | woman, that would be to her a ! blot that could not he wiped out. ‘[ suppose you can prove this?'” she said, slowly. “Yes” and anickly. “Mr. him down there wrote him—" Like a flash, it came to Stone. Carmelita had taken those letters | with her own. Dan Pelton had | missed them and was glad they were gone. After all, Pelton was | a good sort, and Carmelita, too. | But though Anastasia Folsom was gently inclined toward the | |victim of her brother's passions, | that could not condone murder. ! “I don't wonder vou wanted to Kill him,” she began, but Barron inierrnpted. v wife did not Folsom,” he declared. kill him T do not know. on the job now. and down the murderer, cven if it means the exposure of my wife's past history."” I There was a knock at the door, |and when it was opened, Ross, ! Madeline spoke Folson: had with | some letters I kill Garrett “Who did But T am T will hunt { woman he devoted though Anastasta | ! perhaps, | anyone ler. He saved mo from the wrong | Garrett Folsom would have done me. Then, for Mr. Folsom did not know him, he gave up his own career, and went to be valet to Mr. | 5, "y vastigator found Folsom =0 he could keep watch on further molestation of me, and de- 5 i i voted his life to that. He went with | said Anastasit | greerr Wolsom wherever he went. He never let him out of his sight, and when they came down here— | tell them, Father, what Mr. Folsom sald.” “He sald,” the man they called the only wanted. He sald he meant to get her, too. He had no idea 1 was her father, and he de- clared he would manage it. He said he should confront her in seen here at the hotel the ocean and claim acquaintance, | and then he would be guided by circumstances what course to pur- sue, but he would get ler away | from her husband and would have | her for himsclf. This he told me with a leering chuckle that night he arrived, as he was dressing for diuner. So T knew the time had come when T must strike, what- ever the consequences might be. “I had no weapon, but I went for a walk and saw the auctions here and there, and realized I could zet one of those old daggers. The white mustache T always car- ried around, thinking I might some day meet Madeline and it might be necessary that she shouldn’t recognize me. As minor precantion I put it on, be- fore T bought the knife, and the est T think you all know. T Rave no regrets, T rid the werld of a scoundrel. T am sorry, Miss som, to speak thus of the brother vyou adored, but I knew him better than you did, and he would have ruined my girl's life had he been allowed to live."” Then Anastasia Folsom spoke. “Ross,” sh> said, and her voice was gentle, but it sounded full of heartbreak, ‘“vou are right. I am, a strange woman, and T worshiped my brother. But T see now it was an imaginary ma worshiped. If he did these things vou tell of, and T cannot doub what T have heard, then you did right. T don't mean T am glad you killed Garry, for T loved him so, but T can see it from your poin of view and J can understand what you have heen through these years of watchful servitude to a man you hated, T can appreclate it all, including Mrs, Barron's agony of spirit, and T withdraw all charges and T wish the {nvestigation stopped. “I don’t know what must done, cxactly. but you, Mr. Stone, and Mr. Barron will know how to arrange matters. Only I want Ross to go free, to be unsuspected at ali. T want the police to be told that the mystery will remain forever unsoived. T want Croydon sars exonerated, and— oh, T don't know about these de- have intruded, gentlemen,” looking from Stone to Barron and back again, “because I have been listening at the door and 1t is time 1 should have my “I'm sure you ¢an have nothing Fol-+ quently to keep the by | talls, but I want them all attended to. This does not mean that I c done the killing of my brother, but that Jexonerate the man who, killed him, because I understand, To me there 18 no sin on earth like the sin against & woman's virtue, And since my brother was guilty but that I exonerate the man who took the law into his own hands and who saved the daughter he | loved.” { And Ross, with no thought of melodramatio effect, knelt down | and kissed the hem of Miss Anas- tasia’s smartly tailored frock. THE END Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of [ BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Editor Journal of the American Medical Association and of Hy- geia, the Hoalth Magasine Of all of the polsons found in in- dustry, lead is most common and claims the largest number of vice tims. A complete book on the sub. ’Jecz was published in 1839, and numerous subsequent investigations have pointed out how this sub. stance acts to produce severc pois- oning in Industry. It is known that more rapid {and severe poisoning follows the breathing of lead fumes and dust than occurs if the lead is taken into the mouth from soiled fingers and swallowed. When the lead is taken up by the blood, it exerts a destructiva action on red blood cells 80 that the person becomes anemic. It tends also to affect the tissues of the brain, producing severe mental disorder. The lead is deposited in the | teeth, as well as in the bones of "the skeleton, and may be an im- portant factor in causing early tooth decay. 2 One of the important signs of |lead poisoning may be a degen- oration of the muscles, and seems to affect particularly those mus- cles which are most used. Persons show paralysis of certaln portions of the body, apparently due to weakness of the muscle, althought in the same persons there are some- times found degenerations in the #pinal cord in the nerves which cone trol the actions of the muscles. | It was suggested vears ago that | printers suffered more than other { persons with tuberculosis of lungs! that the into contact | work brought them {him. He meant to keep him from | ¢ particles of carbon, silica, whita |lead and atomized or vaporized metallic lead. This lead was disposed | of by the body with great ditficulty. | When deposited in the lungs the lead scems to lower the power of | the tissue of the lung to reaist dis- | case. | Ross stated, gravely, “that he had | Menas for the Family | Breakfast — Stewed dried apri- ! cots, cereal, cream, spinach with | poached eggs on toast, crisp graham | toast, milk, coffee. Luncheon — Vegetable loaf, head lettuce with French dressing, cocoa- nut custard ple, milk, tea. Dinner — Casscrole of lamb and | vegetables, watercress salad, straw- berry shortcake, milk, coffee. Cocoanut Custard Pic | One cup canned shredded cocons | nut, 3-4¢ cup sugar, 1-4 teaspoon | salt, 3 eggs, 3-4 cup milk, 1-4 tea- spoon vanilla, 3-4 cup flour, 3 tablespoons lard, 1-3 teaspoon salt, cold water, | Mix and sift flour and salt end | rub in flour, using tips of fingers or | & pastry mixer. Rub lightly. Add cold water, about 1 1-2 teaspoon- fulls and work into a dough, han- dling as little as possible. With the hands, form into a flat round cake. Roll on a lightly floured molding | board, turning a quarter-round fres shape round. ¥oid one side over the other and place on a pie dish. The fold should DLe in the center of the dish, Open out and fit the dough down into the | aish. Do not stretch the dough and | take care not to break it. Fold and | crimp edge of dough and place on {1ce white preparing the filling. | Deat yolks of eggs until thick, | gradually beating in sugar and salt | sifted togother, Fold in the whites of the eggs beaten uptil stiff and add cocoanut, vanilla and milk | which has bgen heated to the acald- | dns polnt. Mix thoroushly, being ure the sugar is dissolved. Pour into the pie dish lined with pastry { and bake in a hot oven for ten min- ! utes. Then reduce heat ‘and bake thirty to forty minutes. Serve cold. | The rule will fill a seven-inch pie | dish\ The oven temperature should [be 450 degrees F. when pie is put in and for the first ten minutes, and | reduced to 475 degrees F. to finish | baking. 666 : Colds, Grippe, Flu, Dengue, | dilious Fever and Malaria. i It kills the germs be | N (Iv/*t THE C'—!IEFS \ TROUBLE 2 7 - (AE YOU DISPPOINTED i IN_LOVE ? — By John Held, Jrj vEST \ EVERY TIME