The Seattle Star Newspaper, June 4, 1921, Page 9

ATURDAY, JUNE 4, 1921. THE SEATTLE STAR DOINGS OF THE DUFFS Long Dresses Cause Suspicion Nowadays Cynthia G ; ® Smoked Glasses. RY ”* Who Wears PATRICIA MALONEY rCY o "| ynthia Dreams—and a Galaxy of Pretty Girls Fail| to Find Favor With “Twenty-Si Last night I dreamed about the *'98 model in the 1921 attire,” I had) ied so much about what a really worth-while and “nice” girl would | {f she did not adopt the prevailing modes, How is she to prove that és the sort of a girl that a man tants to marry? "There were so many girls in my dream that I was longing for “Twenty joubt that the right girl was there, in) ” to come in. There could be no di that assemdlage. And while the ov r garden, who should walk in? ris were all walking about in a great Why, no one but “Twenty-Sir” him i, and he looked anziousty adowt, just as if Be fud someone very defi in mind. At the first turn in his path he @ girl in a flowered dress. The had great leg-'o-mution sleeves the skirt was fashioned with a train and @ great bustle and a amall, tight waist, She smiled and he looked at her in avery way, as if he wondered dn all the world she got there. as he passed by she wondered he did not realive that she was Moeetest tempered and the most | le and charming. girt he had met. For she was the '98 model was looking for. ‘One after another he passed by girls in the garden, but he could tell that they were very worth- giris, that they loved homes} children and simplicity, because | one of them was dressed in the of the moment and “Twenty found something about cach that he did not like. This one’s was too tong, the next too } @ third’s was too narrow, and too wide. “Twenty-Sir” wandered out of garden disconsolate. On the path outside I met Rim and he mur- , “She isn’t there, and all those Is want to marry someone. I want find some giris who are happy doing the everyday things, until | right one comes along.” Phen I woke up and remembered *Twenty-Sir” had said. He want to marry any one of girls—dut they all wanted to} married. Perhaps, after all, it is| feeling that these girls are so s to be married that drives} “Twenty-Sizes” away. A worth-| ile girl who is a good playfellow well as capable and earnest is) it he wanted. And he didn’t find because sometimes she wore one and sometimes she wore an- When, all the time, all poor Siz”! needed was to clean glasses and take a long breath. eee ‘A Good Man low Is Hard to Find” "Dear Miss Grey: In reply to the written by “Twenty-Six,” I will gay he is mistaken in his belief that | are no girls in this 20th cen-/ i who would appreciate the | ndship of nice young men like y are and who would be proud to them for friends. For such men are hard to find these | a | re are two giris, 22 and 23, rather and, 80 to speak, “98” We like to have girls, but ‘We have times in men, for they seem to care q volous, feather the good girl Like these boys, looking for the better such as home and) r that is the only road to | Don't give up hope, boys, and we the best of luck and hope with you Miss Grey: Just a little ad- to “Twenty-Six’ A | Tam afraid you do not look in the places for your old-fashioned You cannot expect to findsher ISS GREY will receive read ers of this department at The Star office on Tuesdays from 9 to 4, and at other times by ap- pointment. Please do not come on other days than Tuesday less you have an appointment with Miss Grey, as unexpected visitors interfere with her writ: ing. dressed a la the 1921 girl, She does not rouge her fi or show her knees. Neither does she frequent the public dance halls or movie shows: She is interested in more worth while thingsy You will find her in chureh on Sundays, for ll religious girls are not snobs, as most men of today seem to think. Wishing you all kinds of luck in finding your ideal, I am just a Little Old-Fashioned Girl, who is still look ing for her ideal man. ove Girl of Today Still Has Hope Dear Miss Grey: 1 read the let ter in your column last night, from the boy who is disappointed in the girls of this century, and is looking for the old-fashioned girl lke his mother was. Tam sure there are just as many girls that feel the same way about boys and I am one of those who do. Now, I-like to have a good time and all kinds of fun, But I am not an old-fashioned girl, I am a gir of today and I try to live up to my} mother’s wishes. I have been out with several different fellows, but I have been disappointed with them all. T have almost resolved to go with girls only, but I know re must he some gentlemen in the world, and I hope to meet them some day, A GIRL WITH LOTS OF HOPE. eee ’98 Girl Looks for ’98 Men Dear Miss Grey: In answer to the query of “Twenty-Six,” I wish to say that there are as few men of today like those of '98 as there are girls. The boys of today are such pleas ure-loving young men that one would think that pleasure was their only aim. The theatres, dance halls, bil liard parlors and other such places are crowded with young men, while the churches and their Creator be come less and less important in the minds of the boys of today. They give as much thought to Him as they do to a mere dog upon the treet. “Jack” and ‘“Twenty-Six” may have to. search a long time before finding a girl of their dreams, but I think a girl would have to search much longer for a real honest, true and religious boy, one whom she would not be ashamed to introduce to her father or mother. I know some boys who deem @ married man more worth their ad- miration who goes out with other women, when his wife is away, than one who is a home-loving and a real man. And so, Miss Grey, here is another problem for you: “Are there any boys of today such as our fathers used to be?” MISS SIXTEEN. THE UPHILL ROAD” (Copyright, Hodder & Stoughton) From Yesterday) “He had selzed Ferrier’s hand with- waiting for it to be extended. 7 ‘was no mistaking his sincerity. Richard Ferrier was naturally a) thinker, but during the last few ds his brain had worked at thing It was odd that he 4 not immediately biurted out dis- fief in this man’s claim. Odd, too, | not for one second did he even its truth. He felt as if some had given him a blow over the ‘as he stood and listened to the "s rattling chatter—a blow that A robbed him of breath, of power speak, of everything save that n, swift sharpening of his wits. If this man were Ralph Hastings, Hen who was Joan’s brother? And | who—who was Joan? Like lightning his thoughts trav- | eled back thru the four days of their acquaintance, but nowhere could be find a weakness or the suspicion of @ doubt—nowhere recall a single; faltering. They knew Micky—they Micky well. Hichard Ferrier 4 his hope to that fact. He felt | inctively that he stood between Yegn and this man who held his hand in a hearty grasp—that he was for the moment a @hield between her q some danger unknown. If Joan and her brother were im-| postors! But the thought was not to, entertained for a moment. There some curious mistake, that was | some coincidence that could be | ly explained away. And yet—| reason mocked him— “1g you believe that, tell this man | about them. Tell him that you have) already met Ralph Hastings and his sister. Tell him, and have the situ- ation explained.” | Ferrier bit his lip; he knew he did} not dare; he knew he was afraid— afraid as he had never been before, of something strange and unknown that threatened him, shrinking, cow- down from the blow that was about to fall. ‘The rough life of the backwoods | liad not killed chivalry in the heart | Richard Ferrier, and all that was ‘vest in him rose now to the defense of this woman. It was not only be cause he loved her, but because she was a woman and weak : He heard himself speaking. He marveled that his voice sounded so natural, so easy-—~ ‘1 shall be onty too delighted. It's By RUBY M.AYRES but the fact is——” he hesitated, to continue again with a rush. “The fact is, I've tumbled across some friends here quite by chance, and they've asked me to go along with them for a bit. I've promised, and we're off today; but later on, when they’ve done with me——" Again he hesitated. He saw a sort of doubt in the eyes of the man watching him. “I'd like to come along next week,” he addéd lamely. Hastings shrugged his shoulders, He picked up hat and stick. “Of course, by all means—any time. Sorry you can’t come now. Hope I'm not keeping you" The impulsive spontaneity of his voice had changed in some subtle” way. Ferrier was painfully conscious of it. “I'm real sorry I can’t come,” he said helplessly. In a measure he was sorry. Instinctively he felt that he would like this man—that he could understand Micky having called him a ‘thundering good chap.’ And yet he was infinitely relieved when he had gone. He stood staring down at the card Hastings had given him, with his address in the Temple, with a feel ing of dazed unreality. Joan, who was she? For the moment that was all that mattered He shook his broad shoulders fiercely He would go to her straight away, and ask for her explanation! Ferrier strode across the hall. Thru the glass panels pf the draw ing room door he could see her still sitting at the desk where he had left her. A ray of sunlight fell on her h and sweet, grave face Richard Ferrier felt his courage turn suddenly to water—he fled precipl- tately, It was impossible to go to her with such a story. He would find the brother, and have it out with him. Ferrier had met many hard cases during the past 12 years, and he had always obeyed the promptings of primeval man in his method of dealing with them, but with his fel low—Joan’s brother—it was differ ent. He thought of her as she had smiled up at him not an hour ago, and he swore in his heart that what ever duplicity the brother was cap able of, she, at least, was innocent, As he stood hesitating in the de serted hall, the stout manageress " Peal good of you to "ave come along, ' came from the office, She carried an THINK THE WOMENS CLOTHES ARE A *EM THAT, FRIGHT THIS YEAR! THEY TRY ‘TO MAKE A DRESS WITH A YARD FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS GEE, ALEK, TI WSU I COULD TUROW MY WoIcE UKE “TuaT. LISTEN Now= Mad, ages \] | 2, . | wae | ‘, | I A Day ——- A DAY"! GOES NOW A BOOK !! armful of ledgers. When she saw Ferrier she stopped, went on a step or two, and then came back. She was @ flushed and embarrassed-looking. She glanced ‘round nervously before she spoke— “You are leaving us today, sir?” “Yes.” Ferrier passed a handker- chief across his brow. He was sur- prised to find that it was damp. He forced himself to smile down at the woman's kindly face. “I'm going with Mr. Hastings and his sister,” he added. ‘The woman gave another nervous glance ‘round, When she spoke again her voice was low, almost frightened. “Asking your pardon, sir, if T might speak to you for a moment.” “Why, certainly,” he said. He fol- lowed her into the office. “| don't know whether you'll think I'm exceeding my duty, sir,” the stout manageress said hurriedly. “Maybe it's no business of mine. |But—well, you remind me of my lown boy. If he'd lived, he'd have been just your age, and I couldn't }let you go without a warning, sir | You've not been tn London for some years, I know, and—she 1s pretty. I'm not denying it.” Ferrier had been leaning careless: ly against the mant@shelf, hands in pockets, but now he stood up sud: denly, stiffly erect. “{ don't know what you mean,” he said. The woman flushed scarlet at the curt words, but her eyes met his bravely. “['m speaking of them as you call Mr, and Miss Hastings, sir, It's not my business, maybe, but they've |stayed here before many and many la time. I might say that they live |nere on and off for most of the year. We know them well, Not that I've anything against them, sl. They pay regularly, and the BOY A NEW NOvec, TO READ, AND HE Very PIRST PARASRA BEGINS UKE THIS; "COMES NOW little | WOLD ON LAD © T KNOW AN EASIER WAY “} BUMP OFF You CAN BE A SPARRING PARTNER FOR DEMPSEY ! (F T DIDNT HAVE ON MAYBE “THiS GUY]/ “TIS BOILER “TUXEDO, TD BE PICKING CANVAS OFF MY BACK FOR A MONTH APTER ONES OF + bet b ROS, BY CONDO BRING Ir HOMES PH "Comes NOW A Dav’ "COMES Now j gentleman is lopen - handed — but — but —— broke off. “I beg your, pardon I'm exceeding my |again distressedly “Go on,” said Ferrier. His voice was hard, his mouth looked grim. “Their name isn't Hastings, 1 know that—go on. | “You said you were going away ‘with them, and if you've got money ‘they'll hav all out of you, sir. |Not that it’s any business of mine, She *|but I felt I couldn't let you go with Jout a word of warning. It’s not generaily known here, or they | wouldn't be allowed to stay, but I know. Fivé years ago they had a house down Kensington, and young gentlemen used to go there to play cards, and the police got wind of it, and the house was raid ed, and—and——” | “Go on,” eaid Ferrer, He was chalk-white, but his eyes met hers steadily. “Phey were fined, but they hadn't the money to pay, and—the gentle- ;man, and—and the young lady——" Well?” Ferrier spoke the word | between his teeth.” | “They said she was his partner, his decoy, they called her, and—and | they gave them both six months’ fm- |prisonment." (Continued on Monday) alleen. BuginessGllege ! | open - handed — very | if} duty,” she said | a * * THEYRE ALL WeaRinG | &5 SHE HASN’T HER LIMBS ALL PxPose 7 OMW*+ OOF - OOMF = JACK CANT GET ANNMORE. SPARRING PARTNERS, SO 3 HAVE “TO DO THE GRUNTING FOR HE CEMENT DUMMY © Seal Page 381 THE HOUSE THAT Peggy and David bounced ex- citedly up and down on the cushions in the car. “Are we really going right by that nice old pioneer’s house, and see the park that he gave to Enumclaw?” Peggy squealed as Miss Elsie steered her big car along the road from Seattle to Enumclaw. Miss Elsie was spending her holiday from the university taking Pegsy and David up to McClellan's pass, up beyond Enumclaw, and she was telling them about the pioneer who had built his own house. “Well,” Miss Elsie said, “I'm afraid we won't really see the park. See that cornér up there right ahead of us? If we turned to the left there instead of to the right the way we have to go to get soon come to a beautiful park with a little stream running thru it and about this time of year there are millions of forget-me- nots growing right In the water. The big trees make it nice and shady and cool, and all the under. brush, except a few lovely shrubs, are cleared out, and that is the park tMat Mr. Mahler gave to the people iv Enumclaw.” to Enumclaw, we would DIDN'T STAY ,BUILT “Is he the one who built his own house by himself?" David wanted to know. “I don’t see how one man could build @ house by himself so that it would stay put.” Miss Elste laughed. “That's just about what he couldn't do, David. He built It, but it wouldn't stay put “He built a big fireplace in one | end of the one room and plastered | his own chimney of nice round stones, “He did all his cooking in the fireplace; he fried his egrs and bacon and boiled his coffee and | roasted his meat there. “One day he was frying his din- ner, helding his frying pan over the coals, Suddenly a big round stone fell—plop—right into the grease, and the boiling hot stuff splattered all over him. “He dropped the pan and whirl- ed around to see who was throw. ing rocks thru his window, but no one was in sight. “Must wouldn't have ducked so 1 him,’ he thougtit; then, turning around to gather up his spoiled dinner, his eye fell on a big hole in his chimney. “A piece of his chimney had fallen down on him." see 5 lin iain Confessions of a Husband ‘We were driving along one of the beautiful roads in Westchester coun- ty when a grinding noise was heard and Edith brought the car to a sud- den stop. “What's George. Edith muttered something about the carburetor and jumped out of the car. I went with her, tho I knew no more about engines than 1 did about Greek. eorge confessed he was equally ignorant. After lifting the hood and fussing with something Edith got back into the car and tried to start the engine A whirring sound was the only re- sult, She tried again with no better success. For half an hour she worked over the machine, What on earth can wailed Dot, “I p by 6. 1 know mother bie the right things f George was coughing wouldn't be sorry, either, the matter?” asked we “y get badly to home,” he sald Edith was apparently at her wits’ end, “Give me just a few more min utes, Dorothy,” she begged, “and then if I can’t get the old bus run ning you and Tom had better take (Copyright, 1921, by N. B.A.) 26. A QUEER MISHAP a train.” Fortunately there was a station within view. “I'll go down and see when there's @ train back to the city,” volunteered George, ' “I don't think it’s fair for Tom and me to leave you,” said Dot, “It would be much better for George to take me home so he won't make his |cold worse by riding back in an open lear in the cold night air.” “That's sweet of you, dear,” agreed Hadith. “To tell the truth, I have been USED 5() YEARS FORSKI Write far book N 2| LOOK, NOW THERES A SENSIBLE DRESS! D WHAT DE %),¥ ae Sprinkle-Blow took out a key and unlocked the door of the Nuisance Fairies, Then he opened a Uny crack and poked in his nose. “Jack Frost,” he called, “I want you. No, no one else is to come out, only Jack Frost." Jack Frost, being thin, squeezed out thru the crack, and the Weather. jman closed the door and locked it again, minute Jack appeared, the air grew icy. Jack smiled, for he badn't for gotten that time in the Land-Where- | Spring-Was-Coming, when the twins had gone in search of Mr. Sun and chased him (Jack) away. “Jack!” said Mr. Sprinkle-Blow, “there are a few times every year when you are decidedly useful. In) jthe fall, when you are needed to make the grapes and pumpkins sweet and to crack open the chest- nut burrs, in the winter when the kiddies wish to sled-ride and skate, and in the spring when Old Man Flood gets out before it is time for |him. He got out a few minutes ago reproaching myself for George out. ‘You won't mind stay- ing here with me, Tom, will you? We'll manage to get a tow or some- thing.” I had to express my willingness to | stay, altho I didn't like the prospect. Edith was startling enough when my | wife was along as a chapero! | George returned with the informa- tion that a train was due in 10 min- Jutes. There wasn't another for over jan hour, It seemed the part of wis dom .for him and Dot to take the first train back to the city. George made only a feeble protest at going. | It was apparent that he felt far from station. I had heard something of the vagaries of suburban schedules on Sunday, but the train was exact: | jly on time, I kissed Dot goodby and | promised to get home as early as I | could. Fdith and T walked back to the car, “Jump in,” she commanded. T obeyed wonderingly. She got in with me and pressed the self-starter. The motor spun as swiftly and truly ‘as tho there had been no mishap. (To Be Continued) CHAPLIN HASN'T ANYTHING Nancy and Nick shivered, for the | | taking 1 SAW HER AT THE BATHING BEACH LaST SUMMER! BY AHERN TRE WUT BROS-CHES & WAL- IVE STARTED WY OW! MOVING - MEAN Jack Frost, being thin, squeezed out-thru the crack by mistake and you know what be. will do, He pulls the icestoppers out of all the little streams and they go rushing into the big streams and then there’s a flood. I’m going to telephone to Mr. Sun to go away, for when he's shining Old Man Fleod can get the stoppers out as easy as, pie. Now, Jack, you jump down to 'the earth and follow OM Mam Flood and whenever he pulls out a stopper, you freeze it in again. Be- sides, if the ige on the top of R creek is bi ‘ing, freeze up | cracks. When you are thru, let know.” (To Be Continued) , ‘ (Copyright, 1921, by N. Bo AQ” WHAT MADE * THE CHANGE? Fiabe ished the last me what made the in me. I told them about Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound Irecommend it wherever I can. o help dies i suffering womenasyourreme- godsend and made | woman of me.”’—Mrs, F. A. ‘BAKED, Why will women fter 4 , suffering from lown beari: rvousness: Pthethies, endurih ge misersnie coches for ys t jb forty years this grand herb wadicine has been restoringthe. women of America to health, “Good apple pie; go te Boldt'saa@e § apple pie; go te at’ vertisement, . ; Re