The Seattle Star Newspaper, June 18, 1921, Page 9

Cynthia Grey: | Bee Woman of Mature Years Encourages Acquaintance | _ of Strange Man of Same Age on Train—Was Her| Conduct to Be Criticised Dear Miss Cynthia Grey with your answers to the ma and I like the way you handl a question of my own, to-wi ? I have been much impressed | ny diverse questions sent you e them, and I now come with| t: A widow, on a visit with W friends and relatives in the East, on her return to Seattle t on a Canadian Pacific train at Montreal. Shortly after leaving Montreal, she met a fine appearing man in the ob-| f Se \ WI } i d =~ Sram aang ee = bi NE eee « © 7 servation car and a stranger i him, he asked her to play a ga © one on the train, she gladly _ They played several games t Vancouver she played with hi quite confidential with each ot widow, 40 years old, and lived in Se e was 42 years old, a single 9 When they arrived at Vancouver, train was late, so he went with to the hotel, and in the morning got an auto and took her riding und town and to the boat for ttle, and he was very fulsome in is praises of her, and she gave him r address in Seattle, and he said might cal! on her in Seattle. She did not advise him that she was en- gaged to a fine man, and that all her expenses were paid for the trip by her fiance, who wanted her to visit her relatives before they were married. } Now, the lady is a friend of mine, ‘and is much alarmed for fear her train acquaintance might call on her, and that her fiance might learn of her acquaintance and the visit that | she had with him on the train, and r fiance might terminate the en ment, and she dearly loves him, and has come to me for advice as to | their actions. I told her as to, passing the time of day with a strange man on the ‘train there was no harm; that play- | ing cards with strange men and get ting sociable or confidential was Svery unwise, and no lady would Mthink of doing it; that she did not y No the man, and no one to M¥ouch for him, or what he said; that ‘he might be a bootlegger or a man With no standing; that that kind of acquaintance might take advantage fo lead to other suggestions and complications; that the best ladies would not put themseives in a place that they might be misjudged and might invite a wrong conception of her actions. Of course she defended herself by saying that everything said by the gentleman was strictly polite; that er people played cards on the ‘train, and that she would know if the man was “fresh” with her; that was a four days’ ride, and that she Pknew no one on the train and it Id have been very tiresome if had not met this man. Still, she ‘s much worried for fear fiance should hear of the trip might resent it and terminate engagement. Now, was my advice right or PAwrons, and what would you sdvise ip matter? Sincerely yours, LucY. - Your advice to your friend was much better than I a broad viewpoint of has traveled extensively ta people readily, men upon footing with women, would, other hand, prove quite the to @ younger woman, and different type. am sick and tired of ig “sex” into such dis- of no reason why and women should @ common ground at 3 E 8 He i i i 8 to her, and after a visit with) ame of cards, and as she knew) consented to play. he first day and all the way to m day after day and they got her. She advised him she was ttle, and he told her man and lived in Vancouver. | of them were older than they claimed. M's. 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 |] om other days than Tuesday un less you have an appointment with Miss Grey, as unexpected | | visitors interfere with her writ ing. ——_———$$—$_ $e jal times and places if they choose to do so, without having the slander tag attached to them. Women are working by the side of men—| the progress of the world would be | tied without their assistance—then | why, oh why, may there not be standard rules of etiquette for both? | | eee | | Thinks There Are | |No Ideal Girls Here | | Dear Miss Gr For the benefit lof “Jack” and “Twenty-Six,” I wish |to state that there are no girls who jwould fulfill their dream# in the West. Anyhow, they are so few that it doesn’t warrant a search. I know | | because I looked for years—there are |too many adventurers and fortune | hunters from all over the world who can talk more romantic than I or | |any local product, to these gambling | spirited girls, and spoil their sense of appreciation with promises of a million dollars, a silk dress, jear. You might make |you are a coming genius or | lionaire in the making, but how to keep it up, for if it ever dawns on ‘em that you will remain a mediocre | success, the judge might help them | to your first payment on that home | you dreamed about, under the title of alimony, and you're done. Why prospect for gold where there | is none? A tramp pal of mine once | told me that there was a better class | of girls, and people in general, in the Eastern states. They are not so | money-mad, he said, and the girls were “sort of respectful-like toward a fellow—kinder meek and humble,” because there were more girls than men. He was a very interesting tramp and caused me many a happy day dream., He had been all over the world, and among the peasantry tn many of the European countries. He said the girls there were fine girla— jolly, whole-hearted, laughing, frob icking girl, as free and pure as the many lakes and rivers from which they gained a livelihood; nothing art- ful or assuming about them—natural treasures as he called them. One time I asked, “Aren't they very ignorant?” He answered me thus: “Ignorance is bliss, you'll find out, my boy, if you ever fall in the clutches of these educated vamps.” So I'm working hard for my first million, so I can traverse in differ ent climes and see if these girls are as natural as he said they were. If they are, mebbe I can build up a ro- mance yet. All's well that ends well; give up nothing, and I haven't started yet. ONLY 28. ‘THE UPHILL ROAD”) coomen, nassr amore) By RUBY M.AYRES}|| (Continued From Page 6) hands relaxed. He had taken bff his hat, and his close-cropped head jolted uncomfortably from side to side. ‘The train plunged suddenly into a tunnel. The man Major rose stealth fly to his feet. Ferrier had only slept intermittent ly. The man whose mind is a chaos of trouble and unrest does not sleep restfully. thru chasms of darkness and wind ing uphill roads, straining, always) ining, to find a woman who cried ‘ut to him in the darkness. He could not see her, but he could hear her voice—a voice he knew @uite well—a voice that had roused him from sleep at midnight to the pound of the sea, and her own bitter sobbing cry, “Don’t hurt me! Oh, @on’t hurt me;” Ferrier groaned. He flung up his arms with a shout, to find himself fn the darkness of the tunnel with the man Major bending over him, He was on his feet in an instant. His hand flew to his hip pocket. He had awakened to a sense of danger almost he had seized the man hose dark face had been s0 close to his own when he opened his eyes, when a ray of light pierced the dark- ness, an instant and they were again in daylight. Major dropped back to the seat with a forced laugh. , “My dear chap, are you going to murder me? You have been dream. ing—you shouted out—and I was just going to wake you when you started up and nearly knocked me over. I shouldn't care to make an enemy of you!” He laughed again— an uneasy laugh, Ferrier joined in. “I must have been dreaming,” he maid, “Dreaming. 1 went to sleep "eh the sun on m5 head.” As Major went back to his own seat, Ferrier looked after him with sudden suspicion in his eyes. He felt for the belt which he wore under his coat, and which contained his money. It was there safely nough, and yet— Feeling again ‘cautiously, his fingers touched the flap of one of the little purse-pock- ets—it was unstrapped. A wry smile twisted Ferrier's lips; he was almost sorry that he had awakened #0 #0on, for the belt contained noth ing but the spurious notes and coin Which Muior and Uw other two men % In his sleep he struggled} had passed over to him the previous night. “We shall be at Paddington tn 10 minutes,” said Major. He stood up, | and took down his bag and bat from the rack, Ferrier noticed how his |hands shook. He began to con |sider the situation more gravely; for the first time he realized that he might be in serious danger. This man was désperate, and a desperate man stops at very little to gain his own ends. ‘Which way do you go?" asked Ferrier, as they left the train. He had no intention of accompanying | Major further. His voice said as/ much plainly. “Oh, any hotel; don’t let me keep | | o. Tl be getting along. See you later.” “Yes. I'm staying at the hotel where you met Hastings. Look me up there, we might catch the eve ning train back to Eastsea tomor row.” 7 “Good. Ferrier tossed his bag with Major, then he directed driver in a loud volee— ston Road.” He was perfectly well aware that Major had purposely lingered to hear the direction. He took himself off immediately afterwards. When the taxicab was outside the} station, Ferrier spoke thru the| tv». “Drive me to the Adelphi.’ The taxicab whisked round. Fer: rier leaned back, laughing to him- self—the game was very amusing in spite of its danger. He felt al | most light-hearted when the taxicab | stopped é I'll let you know.” hailed a taxicab, He in and shook hands the “Which number, sir?’ Ferrier fumbled for the card th real Hastings had given him. As he did so, another cab raced past| them, and glancing up. rrier jcaught a glimpse of a man’s face—| dark and handsome, leaning well} back, as if anxious to escape ob- servation. He sat still for a moment, his| lips grim, for the man was Edward Major. Apparently he, too, had| found the game amusing—suffi-| ciently amusing, at any rate, to in-| duce him to foliow Ferrier to his destination, | Ferrier stood looking after the| speeding taxicab with a comical mixture of anger and amusement | THE SEATTLE DOINGS OF THE DUF NOW DON’T COME OUT ANY FARTHER! WATCH DADDY, HE'S GEE WIZ1* S WONDER You LADS WOULDN'T TAKE JUMBO BACK = T HAFTA JUMBO = STAR Danny Gets a Swimming Lesson wT i LAY DOWN. 4 THESE BERRIES LOOK PRETTY Nice. Yes, THSY'RS tg to hava let you know, in « burry, to me wo on his face. He had considered) ‘I himself very clever to have out-| but I witted Major; but apparently he had/and the idea occurred not been clever enough. He paid| look you up.” his own driver generously, and “Delighted; entered the house where Hastings Hastings name was inscribed on a neat brass/and glasses plate among others. he poured a yenerous supply of ‘There was a lift up to the third| “hisky into a tumbler, and filled floor, where his rooms were situ-| t up with fizzing soda water. ated, but Ferrier preferred to walk| “Here's good 1ck to us all!” he he was not at all sure of his wel-| Said sententiously. come; not at all sure that he had| Hoe pushed a deep armchair for done a wise thing in ‘calling upon| Ward, taking another opposite him- Hastings at all. His long strides | self. He smiled at Ferrier with a slowed as he neared the third floor;|#0rt of boyish delight. he looked at the bell-push rather] “You've come to stay, of course,” dxhlously. he said. “I'll show you round. You'll have the time of your life. The lift whirred, and stopped at C2 i thie landing pon which te stoons| LO, Se wee Fee, Were th: Loe don?” the gates grated backward, a man - 7 “Twelve carn, tt stepped out, and as Ferrier swung T years, bu - “Well, you won't know it. Care round he found himself face to face tor theatres? There are some rip- with Hastings. ping pieces on now. I know a little The two men stared at each other) gir) round at the Frivolity; she for a moment; Hastings was the! knows how to dance, I can tell you first to recover himself, and they've got a ball on after “So you've found your way here!|the show next week. Haven't got I thought you didn't mean to come.|a dress-suit? Well, we can soon but I'm glad to see you.” He seized | rig you up—mine wouldn't fit you Ferrier’s hand in a hearty grip, and|bot my tailor Johnny will knock srinned up at him. ‘There you up one in a couple of days. hing irresistible in that grin,| We'll make you at home, my boy. and Ferrier felt all at once glad] You won't want to go back to that he had come. Here, at least,|Canada after a week with me.” was someone after his own heart Tie tossed a silver cigaret case a genuine, downright man—a man! across to Ferrier, and got up to whom Micky out in Canada had de-| search for matches, hetalked away scribed as “a thundering good|the whole timo. sort.” “If only old Ferrier followed Hastings into the| now, we'd paint London red be- cory, little rooms Hastings | tween us. He was a sport, old switched on the light and threw] Micky. Does he ever talk about open the windows. It was a hot|coming over?” night. London lay like some ex-| “He was always talking about tt hausted monster beneath a cleat|1 could never understand why he gray sky; the sullen roar of dis-| went out there at all, he was like tant traffic sounded pleasantly and|a homesick kid all the time.” reminded Ferrier of the seal He plunged into random speech. ought came away all have a drirk.” had fetched decanters from the sideboard; Micky were here “Find the woman!" he said mean |place they keep finely, | nothing |damp, soggy weather, igh la he fo} al NE, TWINS “Please don't send any rain for a while” ‘The next letter that Nick read was from Scramble Squirrel. Here's what he said: “Dear Mr. Sprinkle-Blow: Please don't send any rain for awhile. Sam- antha and I have used up the store of nuts and acorns that we had put away in our tree-pantry for the win- ter, and now we are using the ones we stored away underground. As it will likely be some time before nuts and acorns are ripe again (for dear knows the leaves on the trees where they grow aren't even out yet), would you mind keeping the weather good and dry so they won't ii? If they are kept in a dry but there's quicker than spoils ‘em “"Nother thing! We've just come home from Scrub-Up Land where we got spring-cleaned, and we're clean as new grass. We don't like mud “Micky was ¢rossed In love, my dear chap. Didn't he tell you?" “No, but one night—when he was he talked a bit, and I drew my own conclusions, ‘There was a locket, too——" “Poor old Micky?" Ferrier lit his cigaret ‘and let It go out without taking a single puff. “Who was she?" he asked. “Any- one you knew?” and he wonld never tell. What's more, he came down to High Chimneys one night raving like a madman. I thought he'd gone off his nut for certain, but I couldn't get a thing out of him, and he cleared out of England a few days afterwards. It smashed his mater up completety; she adored Micky.” “Hic was one of the best,” said Ferrier. He looked round the room appreciatively. There was not much furniture in it, but what there was had been built for comfort. There was a huge divan, a couple of lounge chairs with luxurious cushions, a thick Persian carpet, flowered casement curtains, an open piano, and a violin thrown down on the couch. “Do you play?” asked Ferrier, “Yes, rather! Do you mean to say Micky never told you of the evenings we had down at the old piace?” rrier flushed. I'd forgotten. cian’ “Those were nights,” Hastings went on musingly. ‘My sister was there, and sometimes some pals of hers. We used to rouse the echoes, I can tell you! Gad, those were times!" {Continued Monday) ingly. m Of course he _ BY BLOSSER FRECWLES WY Do You “TELL JUMBO To"LAY Down! WHEN You KNow ‘LIE DOWN" 1S CORRECT ’ and we get dreadfully mussed dig- ging in our ground-pantry after a damp spell. So if you'll just kindly send dry weather, we'll feel greatly | obliged, “Yours in hopes, “SCRAMBLE 8. SQUIRREL {and wife). “P. 8.: Will you kindly also keep Jack Frost away, He's very useful to us in the fall to crack open nut- burrs and fetch down acorns and so forth. But just now we've all taken off our winter undies and we'd be | obliged for a warm spell. Spring’s| no tme for Jack anyway, the way | he freezes things 'n’ all. 8. 8. 8.” “Land o' Ned,” groaned Sprinkle- Blow to Nancy and Nick. “Do you spose I'vé got to go to the earth gin and call off Jack Frost? Why, I've just given him a job to stop old Man Flood's mischieft’ “They don’t know what is good for them, do they?” said Nick. “If Jack Frost didn’t chase old Man Flood their ground-pantry would be ruined.” (To Be Continued) * ATM {hi OF WASTIN’ GRAMMER, ON JUMBO ? UE + * _By Mabel Cleland Page 393 : BY A HIGH-PRICED PIG Grandmother's beautiful Pats ley shawl lay across the end of the couch and David threw him- self down on it as if it were noth- ing of value “Sonny? grandmother protest- ed, “can't you see that you're on my shawl?” / “I didn't hurt it," David grumbled. “It’s an old one, any- way, isn’t it?” “A very old one, dear, but I don’t take any such chances on your not hurting it. I was offer- ed $350 for it only last week.” “What's that? Three hundred and fifty dollars for a Paisley shawl?" It was the voice of the pioneer who had been telling the shotgun story. “I had no idea they were so valuable,” he said. “Why, when my father and mother lived on Whidby island in the very early days, mother traded her shawl like that for a sow. “Only one man in that part of the country had any pigs and he wouldn't sell. It was one of the very hardest things to get hold of in the early days; to get a start in hogs was next to an im possibility.” Pegy broke into the conversa- tion at this point (Copyright, 1931, by N. E. A) It was Dot who cautiously opened the door, “Well, I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself!" she declared, coming into the room. She had thrown on a negligee, and I could tell from her manner that she had not closed her eyes. “Have I kept you awake, dear?” I asked: “I thought you were asleep long ago, Cards always make me restless, #0 I decided to read a bit before I went to bed.” She paid no attention to what I said. : “How can you sit there like that after the way you disgraced me to- night?” she demanded. I knew she was referring to my unfortunate remark to her mother about paying her carfare home. I also saw that there was nothing to be gained by beating about the bush, “I'm sorry I said that to your mother,” I asserted. “It was Just a slip of the tongue. I meant to cheer her up; she seemed to take it so hard that your father was losing.” “I think it's just awful the way your friends win his money,” went “And partly the man who did have afl the pigs and wouldn't ~ sell any was a pig, too, wasn’t | he?” she laughed. “Yes,” the pioneer continued, “partly he was quite a pig. “One day, however, the wife ef that man saw my mother’s shawl and more than anything, more even than she wanted all her pigs, she wanted that Paisley — thought, and finally she told mother she would trade her a sow for the shawl “I don’t really need so large a shawl tn this warm country,” mother said to father. I have — hardly used it since we came, I believe I will let her have it, & would be such a great help if we could get the sow.’ 3 “So she let the woman have the big soft shawi and the woman said her husband would bring the hog down right away. q “For two whole weeks they heard nothing more of the man or the pig, then someone told father that the man had told him he had put the sow on a sloop and sent it down, but they couldn't get close to the island and had thrown the sow into the water to swim ashore about six miles from our house.” (To. Be Continued) _ ; ¥MERN Confessions of a Husband (Copyright, 1921, by N, BR A.) 88. DOT LOCKS A DOOR on Dot as though I had not spoken. “They ought to be ashamed of them- selves.” “Dear, they arent particularly anxious to play with him—” “Do you mean my father isn’t good enough for them?” “Nothing of the sort,” I hastened to assure her, “I only meant that this game was your father's own idea, He asked me to get it up for him, and I don't see what right you have to complain because I did him a favor, As for what I said to your mother—" That very instant I was sorry I had returned to the subject. “Yes, what you said to my mother! Up to now you've been satisfied to say mean things to her in private, but now you come out and do it while your friends he-haw and you pat yourself on the back and think how clever you are.” “Dear, I didn’t mean anything at all like that.” But it was impossible to convince Dot. , My offer to apologize was tak- en only as proof of my guilt. By this time Dot had persugded her- self that I had sat up half nicht before planning that retort to her mother, to “If you object to them staying here, and I gues# you do, you wont have that worry on your mind long,” she told me. “They're sick tired of the way you've been treat ing them and they're going to leave right away.” | “Tomorrow?* I asked hopefully. “No, but prcbably the day after.* “Well, when they go I suppose we'll have some peace in the family again,” I shot back. “Doesn't it strike you as queer—no, listen to ‘me, you've heen doing enough of the talking—that the only time we quar “4 Fi rel is when they're here? I'd like for you to give me some answer to that!” Dot's reply was to stalk out with out looking at me. A moment later I heard a key turned in the door of our room, (To Be Continued) OPPORTUNITY, STARWAN TADS