New Britain Herald Newspaper, June 27, 1927, Page 10

Love’s Embers Adele Garrison’s Absorbing Sequel to “Revelations of a Wife” Beginning a New Seri Lillian Shows the New Home Pre- . pared for Her Daughter *Isn't she the eighth wonder?” Mr, Veritzen whispered to me as we followed Lillian and her atten- dant bell-boy down the hotel corri- dor to the elevator. “Of course that triumph over me was a mirthful trifle, but it is so indicative of her personality. I never yet have seen her worsted by any opponent, gith- er in jest of earnest. And yet, sbme- times I fear that she cannot always conquer Fate.” I guessed what lay behind his words. I had seen that covertly his keen eyes had appraised every de- tail of Lillian's rather shabby liv- ing quarters in the old-fashioned hotel in which she had elected to| make her home while her young daughter was away at school. The cxplanation of her Spartan sur- roundings had been given me by Lilllan herself, and I knew that the rigid economy she was practicing did not result from any lack of in- come, for orders never had been so plentiful nor so well paid as at the present time. She had told me that she was planning a ‘“suitable nest” for Marion during her vacations, and I guessed that ‘suitable” meant everything that could make her dar- ling’s life smooth and happy. “On the contrary, I am sure she can,” I murmured in answer, and as If in confirmation of my words, Lillian turned after pushing the ele- vator bell and smiled at Mr. Verit- zen. “Phil,” she sald, “can you Kkeep that chauffeur of yours waiting for five minutes—I promise it won't be longer that that, while T show Madge my new home—you also, if you will deign to look at it.” “An hour if you wish,” he return- ed promptly, with perfect gallantry, although we both knew him well enough to be sure that inwardly he was chafing at the delay in getting started upon our trip to the inn of his choice among the hills overlook- ing the Hudson River. But, I told myselt with a touch of gratified malice, it was his own fault for per- | mitting any faintest surprise at Lil lian's surroundings to appear in his | face. I knew that he had fancied himself so adroit to his glances as| to preclude all discovery of his in- spection, but he had not counted upon the sharpness of feminine in- tuition especially where sore sensi- bilities were concerned. That Lil- lian loathed her prgsent surround- ings I knew, and was sure that she had recognized Philip Veritzen's re- action to her rooms. “Nothing else becomes much as his waiting ability," master went on. “He has what my cook calls a ‘noble figger,’ and 1 think he loves to display it while posing at attention beside the car.” The stopping of the elevator punc- tuated our laughter at his sally, and at a word from Lillian we swiftly were taken to the top floor of the building, the widely-smiling bell-boy ostentatiously displaying a floor pass key with which when he stopped at the top floor, he opened the door of a suite of rooms which made me ex- claim in admiration of their possi- Dilities. The apartment was a corner one, with sunlight filling every room, and a glance from the windows showed Otto so ' Otto’s I me the balcony outside which Lillian so likes. The large living-room ran the whole length of the apartment with windows on both sides while opposite a real fireplace stood ready for the blaze which is a necessity not a luxury to her. Ivory tinted, built-in_bookcases, empty now, presenting fascinating possibili lined every available bit of wall space, their tops the exact height of the mantel, presenting ideal resting places for the rare curios which are Lilllan’s. Back of the living-room were three bedrooms, ample closets, a large bathroom, and what she in- formed us was a ‘“real, honest-to- goodness kitchen."» “I couldn’t wait until it was deco- rated to have you see it she told me—she made it appear all through the inspection that I was the one to whom she was showing her new home. “You see this was the home of one of the original owners of this cooperatite apartment hotel. He suddenly decided to spend the rest of his days in California, and 1 got the chance to rent it. It's the bulli- est studio apartment in the world, and T have things in storage which will just fit it. Do you re- member my white and crimson drawing-room Madge?” Copyright, 1927, Newspaper Feature Service, Inc. The New Home of the Coyotes By Thornton Burgess The perfect home, it doth appear, Can never be where there is fear. —Mrs. Coyote Not even the sharp eyes of Blacky the Crow, or those of Sammy Jay, had discovered the new home of Old Man Coyote and Mrs. Coyote. In fact, Sammy and Blacky and all the rest of the little people had taken it for granted that Mrs. Coyote would go to live with Old Man Coy- ote in his old home in the Old Pas- ture. They had taken it for granted, just as Old Man Coyote himself had taken it for granted. So no one took the trouble to go to see if this was the fact; and of course they didn't g0 looking for a new home any- where. That new home certainly was very cleverly chosen. Old Man Coyote had to admit it. It was so well hidden in a thicket that only the sharpest eyes would ever discover it. Yet despite this, the sun could pour down on the sandy doorstep, so that a sunbath could be enjoyed even bet- | ter than at Old Man Coyote's old home. You will remember that Old Man Coyote had ventured to hope that Mrs. Coyote would arrange a back door. She did. She did more | than this. She arranged two back doors, and they were so cleverl hidden that when Old Man Coyote tried to find them from outside he | actually had to hunt a long time. | “You see, my dear,” said Mrs. Coyote, “we have no one to really fear excepting those horrid two- | legged creatures called men and the | dogs they use. Without those dogs, like Bowser the Hound, they never in the world would be able to get us. But Bowser the Hound, or some oth- | er dog, can follow our tracks, s you | very well know. Now, if when we come home we always trot along that little bare ledge of rock those dog are not likely to find our home., You know as well as I do that bare rock | will not hold our scent in dr weather. By and by, it we have some | bables, they will be quite safe here. No one will ever think of looking away up here for our home. But, | of course, we must be very careful. 1t will be well, my dear, for us to be seen more or less around your old home.” “Certainly, my dear, of mum\,-'i suid Old Man Coyote, grinning hap- | pily. “I think I shall take my sun | baths down there just as I always | have. If you would join me there, jt | would be a wise thing. Just let Sammy Jay or Blacky the Crow see us taking our sun bath therc a few | times and it will be all over th Green Meadows and through the Green Forest that that is where we are living. My dear, you are a won- derful home builder.” “Do you really like this home?” asked Mrs. Coyote shyly. “I love it,” Coyote. “Do you love it as much as you did your old home?” persisted Mrs. Coyote. “I shall love it more,” Old Man Covote. “But you don’t now?” asked Mrs. Coyote. “Yes, I do,” replied Old Man Coy- ote. “when you are here, If you were not here, T might not: hut as long | new a bit declared Old Man declared “Do you really like this new home?" asked Mrs. Coyote a bit shyly. ote and she once more turned her attention to the entrance to the house. “Do you think I have this quite large enough?” she inquired. Oid Man Coyote nodded. “It is plenty big enough for me,” said he “and if it is big enough for me that is all that is needed, for I am larger than you.” “Are there any changes you would like to make?” Mrs. Coyote asked in a meekssounding voice. Old Man Coyote half opened his mouth to speak, then glanced at her sidew! nd closed his mouth. He simply shook his head. Already Old Man Coyote was beginning to learn. He was beginning to undc some things are better left uns: (Copyright, 1927, by T. W. Burge . The next story: “Bowser the Hound Makes a Discovery. A delightful summer drink can be made for less than one cent per ass. Ask your grocer for Wil- liams' Root Beer Extrac NIGHT WORKERS U] OW clean the world looks this morning!” exclaimed Bennie. All the leaves were shi- ning green . . .. the grass was smooth as green velvet . . . . and each flower had a clean face. “The Brownies must work hard all night,” said Bennie. “They come out when all the people are asloep. Then they sweep and dust and scrub until the sun comes up to see if everything is ‘spick and span’ for the day.” Just then Bennie saw the leaves under the blackberry vine move. re was a soft rustling. “One of the Brownies must have forgotten a whisk-broom or something,” he whispered. as you arc here, I do.” « Shia appeared ta satisty Mrs, Coy~ | Toom to see if he had returned vet. | | Aukland the night h."‘mr‘. { had beer and that | NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, MONDAY, JUNE 27, 1927. My Sons Stee JLYSIRATED AND COPYRIGHTED BY JOUNSON FEATURES INC. WHAT HAS HAPPENE Phillip Wynne Tracy 1V has had a childish engagement with Natlee Jones. Becoming int sted in Lyra Hilliard, an old friend of his moth- er's, Phil soon finds himself falling in love with her. Natlee, overhearing him making love to Lyra, breaks her engage- ment, The whole affair, however, sinks into nothingness because Amecrica enters the World war, Phillip enlists and is soon in France. Just before leaving, Phil meet Natlee again and they plan to be married. The immediate depart- ure of the troops, however, prevents this. Soon after arriving in France Phil s wounded and is decorated for bravery, While convalescent, armistice s | declared and as he meets certain requirements, Phil is awarded a scholarship in a French university and returns to Paris. His mother, not having heard from him for months, goes to Prance to hunt him, and Major Aukland, who is devoted to Anne Tracy, accompanies her. Unexpect- edly she comes face to face with her son. Mrs. Tracy learns with dismay that Phil intends to marry Pat, a French divorcee with a four-year- old child. Phil goes to see. Pat and they go to Maxime's to announce their en- gagement. Phil ‘wakes the next morning in a bedroom in Pat's apartment and is told that having returned from a cafe at a very late | hour, she had asked him in. Here the story further unfolds— CHAPTER XLVIT THE COMPROMISE “You were much better to me than I descrved, Pat dear. Why are you 5o good to such a worthless dis- abled American soldier as I am?” “I will not have you ' call any American soldier who wears France's croix de guerre ‘worth- 1 and besides, 1 lo 5o “Pat, you are very sweet. T wish 1 were more worthy of you.” The maid brought in the e au lait which Phil hurriedly drank. He knew he had done something which | his mother would find hard to for- give. He must get to her at once and fix up scme kind of a compro- mise with her. Pat’s tenderness held him, but at last he started for the Ritz. When Anne Tracy arrived home from her expedition at Montmartre, her first act was to look in Phil's She wos not greatly disappointed not to find him there, When he did not come to the hotel the next morning, she waited until 12 o'cleck. Then she deter- mined to brave the annoyance of the French ,telephone service and call up Pat to ask her if she knew anything about Phillip. “Yes, Madame,” answered a voice that Anne know was Pat's. “Mon- sieur Tracy has just left for the | Ritz. T think he should be there very soon now."” “Thank you,” sald Anne, and rang | off. For the life of her she -could not show that she recognized the voice. When she knew that her son be with her _very shortly, became almost panic stricken. What should she say to him? What would he say to her? She was not left long in doubt. He came in perfectly unconcerned, | but with a look on his face that she had seen so often on his father's— a face which told her without any words that he would brook no ques tionings. Before he arrived, Anne Hunting- ton Tracy had definitely come to the conclusion that she would not give her consent to Phillip’s marriage. | “Of course if he wants to s over here and work in some capac- | ity in “Madame Pat's’ s k factories, why, that’s all right. T could mot make any serious objection to that, but T do not think I would he do- ing my duty as a mother if T gave my consent to such a marriage a he contemplates hefore he is 21. “The time would come when he | would call me to account for allow- | ing him to do such a thing.” Anne had said all this to Major | and she | somewhat plaued becanse With he had made no comment. characteristic honesty, however, to- that John | said nothing | under the circum When Phillip ¢ however, | and the peculiar gray look on his face that she had seen | 50 often on his father's, she d |--| mined that he must begin the d cussion. she saw s | sent to my marriage | strated “Would you like to go to opera tonight. Mother?”" he asked. “Yes, Son, I'd be delighted to go." “And don't you think,” he said, “that we had better go to the tailors s0 that I can have some new civil- ian clothes made, It will only be & short time now before I am out of uniform.” “Then you have decided to stay over here, Son?” asked Anne, her voice trembling a little, “Whether I stay or not,” Phil answered, “I'd like some English clothes. All the Bond street tailors have a branch over here. I hope you will help me to get discharged on this side. T don’t think I could stand another trip back like the one I had coming over. That doesn’t sound very brave, does it? But com- ing over, you know, I had a definite object in view. There was a herolc gesture before me. As someone has said, we started over as heroes and I at lcast would be going back as a disabled man, unless I was dis- charged on this side. “Of course, Son, I'd love to have vou go with me, and we will start things in preparation for that right awa “Mother,” asked Phillip abruptl “are you in love with Major Aul land?” 3 “Why do you thing 7" “Well, 've been wondering just what I would do on the other side, if, when I got back there I found you had determined to make Lim your husband.” Anne smiled. “That sounds rather funny, Phillip. If you ask John Aukland about it, he'd say the last thing T had determined upon was to make him my husband.” “Well, if you want to put it an- other way, Mother mine, let's say has John Aukland determined to make vou his wife?"” “All of John Aukland’s and my friends have said for the last 20 vears he has stayed single because I have refused to be his wite.” “Are you beginning to think you kave made a mistake, Mother?” “T don’t know, Phi “I don't like him Phillip saia the words impatiently. “I cannot hear to see him hanging around you.! “That's a characteristic of your father's, Phillip. He was jealousy personified, and vet he arrogated to himself the privilege of paying his attentlons to any woman he wished, n after he was married to me. Phillip, do you realize that if you marry this French woman, you will cut me entirely off from your life?” “Why, Mother, what do you I mean tHis. I cannot live here. You know that as well as I do. Of course, I do not know how lonely vou were without me, but it seemed to me that only half of me was liv- ing when you were away. “Mother, can you remember our meeting a few months ago, without realizing that I am nearer to you that most boys are to their moth- ers? T cannot think of my future lif: being lived where I might not be in communication—where I might not see you every day.” “You couldn't do that, dear, if you married Pat.” “Do you mean that, Would you do that?” If by ‘that’ you mean separate myself from you, T weuld have no choice. T canriot live in France. I am an Ame n by birth and edu- cation, and T am quite sure that Pat would not be willing to live in America. She is French with all the ask me such a Mother? | French ideas of life. There you have the impasse. “Then you will not give your con- Not till after you are-21, and vou know in France a man has to have the consent of his parents of they are living, whatever his age. the family, not the romance, considered In a marriage “Are you intimating, Mother, that vou will give your consent to my marriage with Pat after T am 21?" “Why, of course, Phillip, it you are faithful to your love and to her for that length of time. I would be it t and not give r Aukland for “Will you also your answer to M: that length of time “Gladly, Phillip, espeoially as he has not asked me lately, and T am sure the time will come when you will thank sme. You have demon- in the last two or three cars that you did not know your own mind in regard to love and marriage.” Phil got up from the chair in which he was sitting and walked to the window. He stood there a long fcarts not interrupt his thoughts, When he came back to her . he said, “All right, I promise not to marry Pat except with your con- sent, but I cannot help thinking it isn't quite fair to her.” CHAPTER XLIX John Aukland and Mrs. Tracy Part | “I think it's very fair, Phillip.” said Anne, quickly. “If Pat really loves you, under the circumstances two years is not long to wait. . . Ot course you will not believe it now, but I am sure you are: both much more in love with love than you are with each other. You two met at just the right moment, but ! if you had not. T am sure it would have been someone else with both of you.” “Well, T wish T didn’t have to tell her, anyway,” sald Phil, boyishly. “Still T do not think it will come to her in the nature of a surprise, for all the while she has said that you would not give your consent." “She knew, Son, that reasonably T could not.” “Perhaps I had better see her to- night and get it all over with. I the meaniime,” he said, slyly, “you might tell the Major the conclusions we have come to.” “Phil, you do John Aukland a great wrong. He is really the finest man I have ever met, and I often wonder what my life would have been had T married him instead of your father.” “Don’t, Mother, that old idea again, rather not have been born have had him for a father. your wraps, we'll go over to the legation the first ghing. Il have to work fast it I'M discharged be- fore the Sorhonne classes break up.”. The day was very full. At the Iegation Anne found that Phil would be able to get his discharge papers on that side, but it would probably be a week or two before he would get them. At a branch of the London tailors on Due de 'Opera it took some time for Phil to order six suits of clothes and then Mrs. Tracy was ready to g0 back to the hotel for dinner. It seemed to her when Phil bade her good-bye &t the door of the shop be- fore getting into the taxi, he seemed much more carefree than he had in the morning, and although she was tired, her heart was lighter than it had been in many months. When she arrived at the hotel she found John Aukland waiting for her. Until then; she had forgotten, as she always forgot, everything but his wishes when Phil askeg her to do a thing that she had promised to dine and go for a motor ride with him that evening. “What have you been doing to yourself, Anne,” he said, “you are looking happier than you've looked for weeks.” “Phil is going to be discharged on this side.” “I shouldn’t think that would make you happy, flear. Then you've glven your consent to his marriage with this French woman?" ot at all. He's going to return with me to the United States, but | I can't tell you about it now, dear | John. Wait for me about twenty minutes while I get into a dinner dress. I'm really very hungry.” Anne Tracy did not look into John Aukland's face, or she would have seen a film or sadness come into his eves. However, he said nothing, except “I'll wait for you here.” He thought she had never looked more beautiful than when she came toward him ig the hotel foyer, and something clutched at his heart, be- cause he knew that it Phil was go- ing back to the States with her, he had probably exacted from his mother the promise that she would stay single for his sake. However, nothing was sald about it until they were sitting over their coffee and cigarettes in the lovely Te Doyen restaurant on the Champs Elysees, It was Anne's favorite cafe, 50 quiet and far from the maddening crowd. Her thoughts were particularly happy tonjght un- til Major Aukland asked, “When do you expect to go home, Anne?” “As soon as we can’” she an- swered. “I hope you will be able to £o on the same hoat. 0, T will not.” Why are you o sure, John “Because, Anne, 1 have decided that I shall dangle no longer ahout you. Yon haven't been kind to me.” “Don’t say that, John.” “T must say it. “You know I've been in love with vou all these years, and you know for the last two years, love has al- ,ways been trembling on my lips, and when tonight I had determined to tell it to you again, and for the last time, I knew by your face that it don’t bring up I think I'd than Get on L is uscless, John,” said Anne, with a sigh. “This morning Phil promised me that for two years at least he will not marry Pat, but he also exacted from me a promise that I would live for him alone.” “Selfish, arrogant young cub,” said John Aukland, under his breath. “What did you say, John?" asked Anne. “Nothing, dear, except that to- night I'm going to accept your decl- sion. T have been putting off for nearly «a week an answer which T was to give the Near East Expedi- tion, hoping against hope you would tell me you carcd for me, and we could go home together. T have seen from the first that Philllp disliked | me, and I knew that it it ever came to a shotwdown between us, it would be I that would lose out. Tomorrow | 1 shall tell the expedition that T will go with them.” “Then you'll Anne, “Probably the day after tomor- g0 soon?” asked row, and as I shall have much to | do, I shall not see you again.” “John, John, you're not angry with me?"” | T coulin't he angry with you, dear,” said John Aukland, wearily. “ see you have finished your coffee. May I take you back to your room?" “Yes, you are angry with me, John, but don't you understand that T have really never cared.for any- one except my boy? I felt that his | fathier had wronged me so ferribly | that I've never been able to forgive lis memory, but Phillip was a part of me. Our hearts are bound to- gether and I cannot give him up even at the sacrifice of some of my own happiness * “Then you do care for me a lit- tle?” said John Aukland as he helped her on with her cloak and bent down and looked into her eyes. “Very much. I live as\I shall care for my son. He could ask of me no sacrifice I would not grant. It he had only known it—if he had stood out zgainst me, I would have given in.” “Anne, Anne, you are impossible, but I expect I would not love you as much if you did not have this self-sacrificing as well as stubborn nature.” o The taxi drew up in front of the Ritz. The Major stepped out with great formality and took Anne Huntington Tracy to the: elevator. There he bent over her hand and said, “Good-bye.” Before she could say anything in return, he had wheeled with mili- tary precision and walked away. In a kind of dream she allowed her- self to be taken to her suite. Even then she would not permit herself to think. Instead she reassured her- self: “I will see him in the morn- ing,” she said. as she turned out her light. X (To Be Continued) Phil visits Pat to settle their tan- gled affairs. What does she Eay? Read what happens in the next chapter. But I shall never the | time and for once his mother did |care as much for anyone as long as| Greek at the age of four, and by the age of ten had completed the entrance fequirements for Oxford University. Macaulay, the eminent English historian and statesman, read in- cessantly at the age of three. Be- fore he was seven, he wrote a com- pendium of universal history from the creation down, and before he was ten had written a long poem discussing the merits of Christianity. In contrast with theso geniuses are many who were not extraor- dinarily brilliant intellectually, par- ticularly in childhood. George Washington, LaFontaine, Coperni- cus and Cervanfes had intelligence quotients not much above the average. There are only eight women in the list of 301 geniuses. They are Charlotte Bronte, George Eliot, Mrs. Gaskell, Mme. de Maintenon, Harriet Martineau, George Sand, Mme. de Sevigne, Mme de Stael. George Sand wrote twice as much in a week as many authors do in a month, and Madam de Stael by the brilliance of her intellect influ- enced the history of nations. All of the Bronte sisters were gifted writers. An investigation of chil- dren today shows many boys and girls with intelligence quotients well up to those of the genluses that have been mentioned in this Menas for the Family BY SISTER MARY Breakfast — Sections of grap§ fruit, ready-to-serve cereal, cream, creamed fish on toast, crisp whole wheat toast, milk, coffee. Luncheon — Baked spinach, rale sin bran bread. raspberry bavarian, drop cakes, milk, tea. Dinner — Broiled mutton cutlets, scalloped potatoes, kale in lemon butter, head lettuce with Thousand Island dressing, oatmeal bread, strawberries with sponge padding, milk, coffee. Sponge Pudding Two cups rich milk, % cup sugar, few grains salt, 1 tablespoon granue lated gelatine, 4 tablespoons cold wue ter, 2 eggs (whites), 3 teaspoon vanilla. Soften gelatine in cold water for five minutes. Scald milk, add suga salt and softened gelatine. Stir until sugar and gelatine are thoroughiy dissolved. Let stand until cool and beginning to thicken. Beat until light. Add whites of cggs beafen until stiff, Turn into individual molds and put on ice to chill and become firm. Serve with strawbere ries and whipped cream. (Copyright, 1927, NEA Service, Inc.)} and in previous articles on the sub- ject. It is every parent’s duty to see children are given every chance possible to develop themselves for ' Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of Iliness By DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Editor Journal of the American Medical Association and of Hy- geria, the Health Magazine A review of the studies of genius published by the psychologic de- partment of nford University ruises the question as to who was the brightest child that ever lived. Geothe is credited with an intelli- gence quotient of 180, which means that at five vears of age he was as far advanced as the average child. of ten. When he was 12 years old, he amused himself by planning and sketching out a novel written in seven languages. It is said of John Stewart Mill, the Knglish economist, that he had no childhood, since his interest and activitics were mature from the first. He began to learn Greek at three, was reading Plato at seven and by the age of nine had mas- tered conic sections. The English jurist and philoso- pher, Jeremy Bentham, was writing little compositions in Latain and What's the use of being young if you have to go to bed' at 9 to keep your youth? or i i ¢ the good of civilization in general. Bracelet Strap A flexible bracelet strap which transforms opera pumps into danc- ing slippers is very new—gold with yellow rhinestones. makes left~ overs GULOENS Mustard omfort POWDER Heals and Soothes the Skin Chafing, Rashes, I > Scald- ln(.S'::hm,Bod Smc.wulll&h Women’s Hygienic Mistakes Being ended —New way discards like tissue By ELLEN J. BUCKLAND Registered Nurse ECAUSE one woman told an- other, and because doctors and nurses so urged, millions of women are discarding old-time sanitary ways for the new way called Kotex. ! First, you discard Kotex as easily as tissue. No laundry, no embarrassment. “» Five times as absorbent as ordi- “mary cotton pads, it enables one to \ wear sheerest frocks and gowns ‘without slightest fear of embarrass- ment. Also deodorizes, thus ending ali danger of offending. Eight in every 10 better-class ‘women employ it. Once you use it | o “)‘ you'll never again dare the uncere' tainty of old ways. Obtain_at any store simply b; saying “Kotex.” Box contains 12 Be sure you get the genuine. Onl; Kotex itself is “like” Kotex. KOTE X No laundry—discard like tissue the greatest