The Seattle Star Newspaper, June 20, 1921, Page 9

” '} yal ) i } j ven ; t | } ty a ( if had not come. Something in the gay) ring of that girlish voice behind the| MONDAY, JUNE 20, 1921. Cynthia Grey: ould Parents Be Lawfu Offspring to Repay for Two Readers Do You Think About It? BY CYNTHIA GREY Should we place a financial value upon paternal love and Training? Feare? This question was put 0, but was sort of edged out for the time being by the W“tdeal girl” discussion. Howe ject down, and two interesting letters on the child rearing | Pproblem appeared in today’s mail. They follow: Dear Miss Grey: Should parents not only expect, but law- ally demand reimbursement pr early care and training? The subject is ages old, but no one ever before, it would) pm, thought of discussing it publicly. low often do we hear the bene for you,” as if the child Med to be here. Who is responsible for the child’s being?) d he ask for admittance to this old world of trials and Be We owe the chifld a debt that we mot pay, and if we canrot at least nish him with the necessities of if6, educate and equip him to fight his own battles without taunting him of his dependence, then I say earinot be compared with the ite, for they feed, care for and Mecessary die in defense of their I’) the child is property reared, y tht respect and filial love, there Wai be no need of the question of pay—old father and mother will get Meeded love and tenderness when time comes for it. I am the mother of three, ages 7, d 14, IT have been both father @hd mother to them and earned their Miving for five years. ‘1 am not a slave to them, they and respect me, and therefore ¥y me without question. Each is proud and anxious to carry share of the load. Now, you can easily see that I be s el, when I look at my two hand sons and little daughter, that filled my measure to overflow- and wonder if I can ever repay for trusting me with His treas Sincerely, ETHELYN ly Dear Miss Grey: May I advance iW views In regard to the question: [7 Bhould we place a financial value upon paternal love and care? I would say, first, that mother ts gelfish, and like mother, so the son. What true mother would ask mere 4 for the privilege of holding a y atom of humanity, loving, guid- and watching the little mind ex- and body grow, each year it nearer the promise of manhood or womanhood? y, a true mother asks no com- tions, but those undeniably the véry joy of clasping her to her heart with the new rush of mother love compen- question so forgetful of self— he baby—is it all right, jor?” ‘Ba then the next thou for the re husband—often but a look uent in its meaning, pride, joy, for you, my all—that unspoken nee given and returned has caused doctor or nurse to turn aside many as from something sacred. Of course, there are others, some nate women not fit or having fought against h resentful of tle new they are the selfish women, but dwell on them—they cheat of all in life most dear. go thruout the years each sacrifice has its own reward, if to strengthen our character or den our vision; the more we give forget self the greater the gain. ere 1 that mother you wrote of, “THE UPHILL ROAD”| Komment netr emnee’ By RUBY M.AYRES || 4 (Continued From Page 6) enthusiastically. “Fine old sport ot a jolly pretty sister, too, eh?” He nudged Ferrier again lary. @ “I suppose she is prétty,” said slowly. “You suppose! all in love with her, Mr. Hib- I tell you. She didn’t at all ciate both of us. running away this morning, that's why we're run- ming back tomorrow, ha-ha!” ed with a detestable inflection. Whe theatre was small, and shabby wad Unpretentious, Hastings entered ; he had the air of a man who | very much at home in his sur- “reundings; the doorkeeper touched “his hat when he saw him. They had driven round to the stage-door, and a few loafers standing about | gtared at them curiously. Hastings led the wuy in. Sty dost Why They found themselves in a narrow, cheer-) “4ess-looking passage, lit by a single . The piace iwoked dusty ind depressing, but Hastings seemed to notice it—he strode on as if had been there a great many i before, as indeed he had. ‘A smiling woman in a white apron > bade him good evening. He stopped. “Mise Inglis here yet” , Yes, sir; just come, sir. She said Bi was to ask you to go to her if you led, sii She smiled again. Good: ¢ !” Hastings turned to the sht and stopped at a door which ajar. A pink-shaded light shone ithru the crack; a girlish voice was @inging 4 snatch of song within ings looked back over his shoul- with a curious blend of excite- nt ‘and pride in his face— “You chaps wait here. u can come in.” Ferrier upped at the open door, and in an- wer to a gay “Come in,” entered. NWerrier and Major looked at each our friend seers at home here,” the latter, D*Yes, evidently.” ‘Ferrier felt bored; he wisited he vd r clesed door reminded him of the way had sometimes called“to him. & moment Hastings came ou, em no® worrying about future pay. | He} Tl ask if looked amused; Major) rugged his shoulders. Hastings) lly Compensated by Their) = Early Care and) Answer “No.” What| to Star readers nearly a week} ver, you can't keep a good sub-| from their grown-up children expression, “After al) I have had been favored by being al-| Miss Grey, who was suing her grown | |so nfor the money she spent on him | [before he could care for himself, I should blame myself for not having jtaught that boy the true lessons of | life. I would work at anything, In jthe poor house, if need be, rather than proclaim to the world my love of money and failure to have grasped from life's lessons the truer, deeper meaning. Had she been @ real mother, giv. he in turn would give her a son's devotion, love and honor, also see to | lit that she would never want for the | | material things in life. If $63,000 will compensate her in full, she needs pity rather than cen sure, for she has but the ashes and has never lived in the full sense of | the word, nor has she yet learned that money cannot buy happiness. More than that, some things are | Priceless, among them, mother love. My words seem inadequate to ex- [Press my real feelings, but perhaps they will lead others to reply who will =express clearly. 1921 Girl in Mask (Dear Miss Grey: I have been a constant reader of your columns for the past year and I find them more than fnteresting. I have taken a themselves R M. B. . jing her boy love, counsel, guidance, | more) special interest in the few lines written by “Jack” and “Twenty- express my opinion. They are look- ing for a "98 girl in ‘31 attire, and don’t seem to succeed. Is It becausé they can't see or just can’t spare the time to learn the real true heart and personality of our girls who are sweet but must wear this horrid mask of today’s morals? There are thousands of girls like our mothers, altho they are in dis. guise, indeed, as one reader re- marked. Why? Simply because it is the only way’they may glean one moment's pleasure out of life. Girls who are modest, who love to care for a home, who adore little children More than they do the Pommeranean pup, are passe with our boys—they are Classed as prudes, stay-at-homes or a mamma-girl. This problem is the most serious one of today, be- cause it is leading the’race to no where. Why, in a few more years, if the men and boys keep up this same old nag, the girls will ab- solutely all modesty and prid®, and mostly the great love that's in every woman's heart. “You may come in—she’s dress- ing; but 1 told her you were very particular friends of mine.” ‘The two men followed him into the room. smelt strongly of scent. A girl sat at a littered dressing table, rouging her face with a hare’s-foot, “Comg in, boys—come in,” she said cheerily. She swung “round her chair, one cheek tinted, and waved the hare’s-foot to them gaily. “My!” | she, said, and stared up at Ferrier. “They never told me there was a giant outside——” She stretched up |@ friendly hand to him. “How are you?” ‘ Ferrier emiled down at her; she was rather a common-looking little girl, with saucy eyes and much curled hair, but there was a certain frank, goodgumored air about her that was disarming. One felt in- stinctively that a warm and genuine | little heart beat somewhere beneath the smart, rather low-cut gown. “I'm very well, thank you,” he answered rather formally. “I hope you are.” She laughed. “How serious! Yes, thanks, I'm |always well. Where's your other friend, boy?” The last words were addressed to Hastings. Major came forward, smiling. He was the only one of the three men in evening dress, and he was pleas- | exaggeratedly; he made a smart, | handsome figure beside Ferrier’s al- most clumsy proportions and Has- tings’ square shoulders, “Delighted to mect you,” he mur: Mured; then he looked up. The little dancer had risen to her feet—-the hare-foot had fallen to the ground. She looked ghastly; the one rouge spot stood out in horpible con: grasped at the chair-back as if with- | out it she would have fallen, Ferrier made an involuntary move toward her, but she waved him back and forced a laugh. “I'm all right—only the room's so hot—and you're all such a crowd.” went over to the small window | which opened on a narrow court cory: It was small, and untidy, and/ trast to her white face; she had — You co | RIGHT OUT OF THERE THIS MINUTE! FISH BOWL + “THIS WiLL MAKE A SCREAM OF A GOOD MORNING UTTLE CARLY Yes, tr gag aS Six,” and I would like very much to| [{T'S ONLY 43: 30— sate dia vet EARLY, DOINGS OF THE DUFFS SEATTLE STAR They Failed to Make a Hit With Danny WHAT GOOD DOES 1T DO “To CLEAN You UP? IN FIVE MINUTES You ARE ALL DIRTY AGAIN- SHAME ON You! What Could Grandpa Do in This Case? WY NOT, REEL OF YOU EATING YouR = THANKSGIVING p= oy But You , ALWAYS COUNT ON MS SETTING |UP AT THIS TIMES IF YOU START ENOUGH NoIsE $3 SAVE DAYUGHT IF You'RS CRAZY TO Do IT IN WHE EVENING INSTGAD OF HANGING AROUND Tus “are you ill? Can I do anything for you?” She shook her head. “No, silly! Don’t look #0 scared— it’s the heat. I—I'm quite all righ She pushed the hair back from her forehead; she laughed again. “I must turn you all out now, anyway —I've had my first call. Come round afterwards if you like” She looked straignt at Major as she spoke, and the words seemed a direct invitation to him alone. Fer- rier looked at him sharply; he was smiling. ‘The three men took their depar- ture, Hastings lingering for a last word, and then they were shown to seats in stalls that were not at all well filled, ‘The entertatnment was slow—the artists seemed disheartened by the empty house; Ferrier found himself nodding once or twice till he was roughly roused from a half-doze by a blare of trumpets, and opened his eyes judt in time to see Kitty Inglis, | urably aware of the fact, and bowed/ ag she was deserived on the pro gram, dance onto the stage, Hastings leaned forward, clapping his hands loudly, He had no eyes or ears for anything but the little filmily clad figure on the stage. “Can't she dance?” he whispered ex citedly to Ferrier. “Fine! said Ferrier, He didn’t care for it particularly, but he ap: plauded with all his strength for| Hastings’ sake, Major looked on with a supercilious smile. “Quite good,” he sald condescend. ingly. Before the dance was over, Has- tings had Ieft his seat and gone round again to the dressing-room. Ferrier looked after him laughing She pushed him on one side, and} ly— “Quite epris!” said Major, stifling a yawn, He sat up. “I've had yard. Hastings followed her in con-| enough of this show,” he said. “Let's o% oul* J but AaeasR STORE HY “[ must wait for—Hibbert.” Fer rier nearly forgot the name with which he had dubbed Hastings. “But don't let me keep you, if you wish to go.” “Wel—if you don’t mind—I think I'll get off. How about tomorrow? What time are you leaving town “1 don't know—Ijl ring you up.” ° “Yes, do—any time will suit me. I shan't be sorry to get back to Eastsea; it's too hot in London.” The two men parted outside tire theatre. Ferrier walked slowly back to the stage-door; it was a hot night, the sky was a myraid of stars, and Ferrier wondered what Joan was do- ing doWm at Eastsea, as he walked slowly up and down the narrow path, watting for Hastings. ‘The time passed slowty, Glancing at his watch, Ferrier found that it was nearly 11. He went into the theatre again, and asked the door- keeper to see if Mr, Hastings was ready. The man stared at him. “Mr, Hastings left more than an hour sir, with Miss Inglis.” “Oh!” Ferrier’ felt annoyed-—then he laughed; he turned and walked back to the Adelphi, The door of the little flat was open, he walked in unannounced. Hastings sat alone in the sitting-room, He sprang up when he saw Ferrier—his face was white —he looked as if he had a bad shock. He passed Ferr.cr, and shut the door, then— “You haven't broveht your friend back, then?” he said; there was a sneer in his voice. “No, why?" Ferrier question sharply. His big figure looked almost threatening ad he stood there, but Hastings faced him unflinchingly. “You may be Micky’s friend,” he said determinedly, “and you may be all that he makes you out to be— ‘® pot playing the game to asked the Jack Frost comes along and freezes up the ground again It did seem as tho nobody wanted Jack Frost around, for no sooner had Nick read the letters that Scramble Squirrel and Ben Bunny had written to Mr, SprinkleBlow, the Weatherman, than Nancy held ap another she had found in the fairyman’s mail box. And when Sprinkle Blow asked her please to open and read it, wasn't it from Robin Redbreast, and this is what he said: “Dear Mr. Sprinkle-Blow: “When I came up from the South to fix up my summet home in the old apple tree, I ‘was as sure as anything that Jack Frost had gone for good. Mind you I left the warmest, sunniest, grandest place you ever saw to come here and see my old friends, Besides, Mrs. Robin wanted to see the world. But every time Mr. Sun warms up the ground and the fat, juicy earthworms come up to the fop where we can grab ‘em, doesn’t Jack Frost come sneaking along and freeze up the ground hard pass off a biackguard and a cheat like that fellow Major on a man as if he were a decent sort, and if you don’t mind, I'll trouble you for an explanation.” — CHAPTER XII. For a moment sheer astonishment kept Richard Ferrier silent; a wave of color ran up into his tanned face; then he laughed. “So you've guessed.” “Gyessed!” Hastings’ boyish face was ugly with distrust and sus- pion, “It didn't take much guessing, but I shall be glad to hear what you have to say. I've treated you as a friend, and I call it a lowdown trick to play on me in return.” He stopped.’ Ferrier took a stride forward; his eyes flashed, tho his voice was qui}t enough as he spoke. “You'd best walt before you say anything you'll be sorry for,” he said. “I'll allow no man to speak to me like that. Sit down,” The eyes of the two men met. Hastings shrugged his shoulders and left his place by the door. He flung himself down in one of the armchair#, cocked his feet up on an- other, and Ht a cigaret. “Well,” he said briefly. “I think you'd better tell me what you suspect,” said the elder man. “Tl clear the air a bit; and then I'll tell you the truth.” Hastings flung his cigaret down, and «prang to his feet as if he found the situation intolerable. as stone again, and we can't make a decent living at all. My yellow bill is nearly worn out. So if you please, Mr. Weather man, will you lock up Jack for good ‘n’ all and give the wo a chance? Also give us a chan at the worms, “Another thingt We can’t bring up @ family with Jack watching his chance to give the babies pneumonia, So if you can manage it, Mr. Sprinkle-Blow, and even if you can't, will you please get him out of this neigh- borhood? “Yours very hungrity, “ROBIN R. REDBREAST.” “Lemon lollipops” groaned Sprin- kle-Blow, looking more worried than ever. “There it is again! Jack Frost is down there now on the earth and dear knows what he's doing. Are there any more letters?” “My goodne: yes! answered Nancy, reaching away down im the mail box. “Stacks of them!” (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1921, by Newspaper Enterprise.) LOOK AT THOSE LITTLE BoYS~ AND CLEAN “THEY LOOK SEE HOW NICE t ar. Sea Page “PIGGY WON'T GO “Threw the pig into the water!” chorused the three listeners, and grandmother added, “I didn't know hogs could swim at all” “Oh, yes,” the pioneer went on (with his story, “hogs are pretty fair swimmers, but the thing that worried mother and father was that the poor thing had been wandering around somewhere on the island for the two weeks since the man dumped her overboard off the sloop and he didn’t know how she had fared on a strange island. “Well? he eaid, ‘the best I can o is to go to the point where he says he threw her in, find if there are any tracks and follow them up.’ “He did that, walked the six miles, and sure enough, there were the pig tracks, so he follow- ed them along the beach, then the trail turned off into an Indian trail and was harder to follow, but by close watching he kept on the right way and after a while he thought he heard a soft grunt. “He stopped and listened. Sure enough there it was, but he didn’t see any sow rooting around. Not far from him a great fallen log lay and he went over to see if maybe she was on the other side of it. y OVER THE STILE” “And when he got to the other side, you can’t guess what he found. No, you'll never guess; that sow had « whole family of bi new baby pigs and was happy as could be there behind © the log . “Father sald that never, never | in all his life did he work as hard © as he did getting that family of pigs home over the six miles. But it paid. “He had planted a lot of barley and the pigs grew and fattened on tt; yes, all lived, and were very lit! le and then father | was able to help out other pio neers who Were in need of lard and bacon and ham, for when the pigs grew up he sold them as mea ” needed them, “They had a great way of dreas- ing their meat in those days. “Put a barrel on the beach, filled it with hot water, made a big fire of beachwood, heated smooth stones in the fire and then—there was your boiling salt water, in a jiffy the meat as § clean and ready to put on board a boat of some sort and taken home. m “Great heads they had in those days; used them, too. I never get over admiring thelr clever ness." FREES, Confessions of a Husband pyright, 1921, by N. E A.) . 89. DOES NOT SUSPECT ANYTHING? Dot harily spoke to me at break- fast. For the most part she stared right thru me as tho I were no more real than Santa Claus, When she did address me it was because she simply couldn't help herself. I wondered whether she realy had any tinge of jealousy because I had been seeing so much of Edith lately. I didn’t think she actually suspected anything, but it was unfortunate that our visit to Bristol’s chophouse had given Dot the idea that we ate in one of the cosy little alcoves there. Apparently she had forgotten about that suspicion, but I afraid the idea was merely sleeping in her mind and would awake at the slightest excuse. Still, I had to see Edith about that letter. “When have we an engagement with Edith and George?” I asked my wife. “We haven't any.” ‘Can't you make one for tonight or tomorrow night?” “What for? You're getting mighty interested in them.” It was the first thing she had said to me that she had not been absolutely compelled to say. “Xou know, Edith fold me her 1} to that!" I told her. father wants me to write him a let- ter about that job,” I explained. “It will De a good thing for her to look it over before I send it.” “Humph!" “You know, this idea of my work- ing for her father didn't originate with me. You and Edith were the va who were so enthusiastic about rt. “If you hadn't let the firm cut your pay there wouldn't have been any need of your looking for an- other job.” “It's like a woman to come back “Is it my fault that business is bad? To listen to you and your mother one would think that I had asked the firm to reduce my salary in order to spite 3 my mother got to do with this? Why are you always picking on her? I should think you'd been| mean enough to her without bring,| ing her into the conversation in that way when we're merely trying to de- cide what night we're going to see the Slocums. I'm glad my parents aren't up yet. I don’t guess they are 40 anxious to see you.” “Well, if all we're trying to do ts to decide when to seo Edith and George, ft strikes me you are brings ing a lot of other things into the conversation,” I returned. " I stopped right there, for T ‘he sense enough to understand anything I said would be used gainst me. I felt like a criminal on trial, and I told myself that my home was getting more and more like a modern jail—everything clean and orderly, but mighty strict dis — cipline, The telephone bell rang. Dot am swered it. “Hello—oh, is that you, Edith? How are you, dear?” I thought her voice was almost too sugary. (To Be Con‘inued) TICK-TOCK CLOCK SHOP We Specialize in the R All Makes of ae be We Call For and Deli PPORTUNITY, TARWANZTADS 2