The Seattle Star Newspaper, June 21, 1921, Page 11

SUESDAY, JUNE 21, 1921. fHE SEATTLE STAR Cynthia Grey: A here Is the Feminine Spirit of ’65? Asks Disabled Tom Almost Got Away With It BY ALLMAN a} | Oo) THAT'S STRANGE, BOTH MR AND IRS BROWN 4RE SITTING Jw UR FRONT PORCH = THEY suST 13 THIS BROWNS RESIDENCE P A 13 MR BROWN THERE? OH,15 ¥'| THAT SOP OUT OF THE CITY? BACK NEXT WEEK - On YES! & GOING OVER TO BROWN'S | A CALL FOR A LONG TE! MR BROWN |S OU'T OF TOWN AND WONT BE BACK UNTIL. Ai. Veteran Who Gave His Youth for Country and D). Received Isolation and Loneliness in Its Stead. Fo! \ Dear Cynthia Grey: Disabled Veterans’ week has come ¢ d gone and one who is one wuestions relative to them all. Where are the young wom famothers, the young women of '65? They who cast in their fot with our grandfathers, the disabled veterans of ‘65? hose who understood men, Ae Sb. Rit tly an invitation was $o attend a social evening at a ys a good time and will do take it that they will fall frould be unfair to them.” pit was amusing at the time, but ee then that opinion has been by several x ness, It was on the oceasion & buddie getting married. Pm and all commended the wonder spirit shown by the young lady corm! ated the fact that she Pas getting a disabled man—said he i ht to have known better, ete. sf. He could only provide a moderate \ and home, and if the years | him graciously he may advance is business. The others are shy, enjoying a good time, itlemen enough not to force attentions on anyone and un- reticent because they don't At to tuke an unfair advantage the young women. Physical mis- but the men who really need | and helpmeet to share their 5. Ph this age of worshipers of cal perfection, where are they be let off at? Who will sh boys the errors of their way? here are the women of ‘65? it In the hospitals are many young paying the price of their serv The mothers, those who un- nd, visit them. But those © women, the logical help- tes had this war not happened, re are they? I have heard many tributes paid to these but the young women's are so few and far between the boys were ill at ease in presence. What is the answer? 23 AND STILL GOING. eee She Does Some Raving, Too Dear Miss Grey: Six” sure “Jack” and started some: it makes my blood boil just to ink of all the real good girls there nae right here in dear old Seattle, then have a couple of boys rave the girls of 1921. Oh! This is a great world, all right hy don't we hear more from ‘of the boys-—nearly all the let- } bo far from girls—in one or the (Con inued From Page 6) a blackguard. You're twice my . but if I were in your place I'd the law on him; I'd bring the about his ears. I'd shove him prison fast enough—and even ison’s too good for such a swine. no use—I can't swallow it, Fer. rr, Things may be different over four side of the water, but we don't { up with them here. If you're inder the man’s thumb in any way iJ know even the best of us get in had mud sometimes—I'll stick by pou: but—good God, man! I should pave thought you'd have been the to want fair play. It makes blood boil to think that I ever rank his beastly wine, and smoked cigars. If he were here now, I'd ih his face, that I would.” His voice rose excitedly: hed his fists. lerrier half smiled; he admired . a wave of real tiking for this blooded boy surged thru him. “There's such a thing as biding ne’s time,” he said quietly. “There's day of reckoning for us all.” He Jd out his big hand. “Shake,” he id, “i've never done a man a mean ick yet; I'll not do one to you: I " Wke your pluck—shake hands.” = But Hastings made no move for- 4, he flushed crimson, “It it was only myself, I might 4 you on trust,” he said jerkil *But—there’s Miss Inglis—and any man that hurts her—well, he'll an- to me. Thts Major—" “Leave Major out of the question IM settle with him.” F The other laughed dryly. “I suppose you know what you're ting me think?” he suid. Ferrier made no answer. “You're letting me think,” the ounger man went on slowly, “that ou're in with him, I hate to say to a friend of Micky’s; I hate to y it to any man, You can knock down if you like.” Ferrier made a swift movement, checked himself; his “clenched 4 fell to his side, his face was ite, “You're welcome to think what ou like.” he said. “I don't alto- ther blame you, anyway. Good he vi eh He took his hat from the table, fnocked the ashes from his pipe into the fender, and strode toward the \ Hastings stood watching him with n odd mixture of anger and shame his face. There was something about Fer. ‘Her that he knew made it impossible the man to be the cad he had fife all intents and purposes called , and yet when he thought of itty Inglis and the way she had bobbed out her story to him, he set teeth. Ferrier went out of the room into ‘the little passage; and his heavy gistops rang ominously thru the Mint night. When he heard the Sht door unlatch, young Hastings rted forward. “Ferrier! Here, damn it all ‘errier.’ He overtook him on the winding stone stairs which led to the street; T say nding kept those old heroes’ heads “above water”? e who madé it cautioned, “Of course, they want to show you disabled men tn} They | of them would bring up a few en who will equal our grand- whose sympathy and under- extended several disabled men young woman’s house and the their utmost, but don’t any of in love with you because that M's GREY will receive read ere of this department at The Star office on Tucedays from 9 to 4, and at other times by ap- pointment. Please do pot come om other days than Twesday un leas you have an appointunent |] with Miss Grey, as unexpected | visitors imterfere with her writ ing. |around. Yes, I know, I've tried it if you don't wear your hair like one jof the tribe women in Borneo, or paint up like a Fiji on the war. path, and your skirts—oh, what's |the use to even talk about it; you're |simply not living, that's all, as far! as the boys and men are concerned. “Walting’s” letter was just right. You see, Miss Grey, I'm 2%, consid: | ered sweet and pretty by all of my }friends. I've traveled quite a bit, ‘and when I make friends with any one, my friendship is true blue. | At parties and dances I am always |popular, but why don’t any of the boys ever ask to take me out? Yes, | WHY? One or two have, but then, you see, no good-night kisses for the dear boys, and one of them was sweet enough to tell me I should have'been living about 25 years ago, jinstead of now—too old-fashioned, be claims, Now isn’t that too bad? I was brought up by a wonderful mother, as “FL 1.” mild, a fighter. Yes, mother and dad are great. They'd fight for each other until the end. Their married Ufe has been one long courtship—87 years. My brothers think their sister ts the only girl, but I've given up hope of ever thinking there is a man somewhere in this world who would | measure up to my ideals, even if 1 | should happen to make a hit with him. I have even quit going to parties and dances because of the way most of the girls and boys act. The girls seem to think that the boys don't like a nice girl, and I suppose the boys think the same of the girls. where it will always be he grabbed his arm boyishly. “Come back; I want to tel something.” Ferrier resisted, then he shrugged his shoulders laconidtlly, and fol- lowed the younger man back to the lamp-lit room. “Well?” he @emanded uncompro- misingly. Hastings looked embarrassed and distressed. “I beg pardon, if I've tnsufed you. I lost my temper, but if you were in my place—if you loved a womap——" “Go on,” sald Ferrier gently. Has- tings turned away with a sort of smothered groan. “If you cared for Kitty, you'd have had the devil roused in you, too, by what she told me—that brute—Ma- jor—" “wel “He's Kitty's husband,” aid Has- tings with a sob in his voice. There was something pathetically | tragic in his voice, and the forlorn! droop in his shoulders, Ferrier made a step forward. “Her husband!” he echoed. A sud- den flame of color rushed to his face; in a flash he had recalled the way he had seen Major with his arms | about Joan. If this were true, it| made the insult offered to her a| thing utterly unspeakable. “Yes.” Hastings spoke with his face averted; he stood against the open window looking out over sleep- ing London, and the rows of street lamps, which looked lke sentinel eyes in the summer darkness, “She only told me tonight, when I found her crying. I never knew, never dreamed that ‘she was already mar- ried!” His voice broke. “I never could understand why she always put me off, and put me off. f thought there must be something, but that it was this—curse the fel- low, curse him, I say.” ~ His young voice rose passionately. He swung round, looking at Ferrier, his white face distorted by grief. “He deserted her before they'd been married a year, and left her to do the best she could. She was only @ girl then, not 20, and he used to knock her about—there is a scar on her forehead to this day. She wears her hair low down to hide it. I've often asked her how she got it, and she wouldn't tell me; and he did it —the man you shake hands with and treat as if he were your equal— the blackguard, the infernal black guard! Wait till I meet him again. We'll see then if he’s going to get off scottfree, “She says there is a regular gang of them—gentlemen sharpers. When she found it out he half killed her. They had spent half their time dur ing the few months she lived with him crossing to and from New York, | fleecing fools on the liners, and in the winter they ran a place in Lon- | don. “Kitty had nothing to do with it, {but @here was another woman they used as a decoy. Kitty says she was pretty, and half the men went there because of her, but she was a thoro bad lot. She was band-in-glove with Major and several others who ran MAY, MY TPRIGUD, WHILE THs CORTAIN IS DOWN, L WANT “TO ASK You Ir “Nouv CVE THAT AN OSTRICH CAN HID] WELL, THEN, WHY TRY To K(D YouR SGLE THAT You'Re NOT BALD BY COMBING FOUR OR FNS LONG HAIRS OVER THe TOP oF the place, She helped to ruin hun dreds of infatuated boys who swarmed to the house night after night--the worst of the whole gang | Kitty says she was—and she made up to Major, as you call him—that's not his name, needless to say—and it was for this woman he deserted Kitty.” “It’s an infernal fle” The words seemed torn from Ferrier’s white lips; his eyes blazed, “It's @ lie—an infernal lie.” Hastings was staring at htm open mouthed; instinctively he had fall- en a pace back. There was a ter- rible silence. The two men, each desperately seeking to defend the woman he loved, faced +h other with hatred im their eyes. t whatever cost, Fer rier knew that now he could never tell Hastings the truth of the whole inexplicable tangle; that come what may, he must do his unavailing best to protect and save Joan. Hastings looked up at the man towering above him; he spoke thru clenehed teeth. “It's absurd to talk about fighting you—you could smash me up with one hand, But"—he stepped past him ded flung the door open—-"you called me a liar! Liar yourself!’ He flung the words defiantly at him. “And now get out! Ferrier had caught hold of a chairback; he felt as if he must grip something to keep himself from vio- lence; and yet he knew all the time that Hastings was entirely within his rights; that he could mot resent the attitude the younger man had adopted. Twice he tried to speak, but no words would come; he turned and flung himself from the room, * It was nearly 2 o'clock in the morning when he found himself in the street. There was not a soul about—London sleeping depressed and awed him; he strode on with a Cover horrible feeling of loneliness, He had liked Hastings; would have been glad of him a friend; and now they had irrretrievably quar- reled. Micky would hear all about it—an exaggerated story—hear him, Ferrier, dubbed not only lar, but coward! A thin, starved-looking cat, mew- ing forlornly, crept toward him. Ferrier stooped and mechanically stroked the creature's rusty coat; it purred with a peculiar sort of diffi- culty, as if it had not done so for years, and had forgotten it was cap- jable of yttering any sounds of pleas- ure. Ferrier looked around him. He had turned on to the embankment. The slimy water lapping the stone wall filled the silence like a sinister voice. It was impossible to go to a hotel for the night. He sat down wearily on one of the seats, The thin cat looked at him doubt- fully for a moment, then jumped up beside him, rubbing its head against his arm. Presently it curled up con- tentedly, still purring rustily, and keeping one eye open half-suspi- clously. The night wore away. A gray streak of daylight pierced the dark. ness of the sky. A weary-looking policeman appeared noiselessly from nowhere, and glanced suspiciously at Ferrier. Finally he ventured a “Good morning, sir.” Ferrier answered curtty. He felt cold and stiff. When, presently, he rose to hig feet, he ached in every limb, The thin cat jumped up also with a deprecating mew. The policeman, watching the strange pair from a distance, eng: gested that there was a coffee-stall farther along under the arch, Ferrier half smiled, “Thanks,” he said. He walked along in the direction indicated, the cat following at his heels with Uttle runs, THANK You mes. BROWN! WELL! WuATCU A CRMIN' FoR ? & bes OF A NEXT WEEK. y DVENTURES NIN You can make spring by just coming out of your hole on Groundhog Day and not seetng your shadow. ‘There were more letters, but, as Sprinkle-Blow said, eo many of them seemed to be about Jack Frost, that no doubt the others were pretty much alike. But Nick had noticed one from Wally Woodchuck and 80 the fairyman said to read it, too, There isn't any use in repeating it all to you, my dears, because it ‘was as long as your arm and so full of complaints that Sprinkle-Blow sald he felt like a regular adjust- ment department. You may not know what that means any more than Nancy and Nick did, but your Daddy may, particularly if he's had to pay the gas bill twice Well, Wally Woodchuck, otherwise Mr, Groundhog (you know he has two names), said that everybody in the neighborhood was down on him. He bought a cup of steaming co- coa, and asked for a saucer of milk for the cat. Then he fed it with bits of bun, and some beef from the inside of a thick sandwick. ‘The stall man looked on with a sort of contemptuous amusement. “We get plenty of them strays about *ere,” he said laconically. “Poor devils” said Ferrier. It was quite daylight now; the grayness had vanished, the vell-like mist over the river was lifting. Ferrier looked at the thin cat doubtfully; he hated leaving it again to starvation, but he did not know what to do with it; when he walked away from the stall, the poor crea- ture followed him, mewing plaintive- ly. Ferrier stopped; he stooped and picked it up, and stowed it away in- side his thick tweed coat, glancing round almost shamefacedly to see if any one had noticed; then he strode on in the direction of the hotel where Major was staying. A rush of memortes surged over him as he entered the hall with the group of marble figures at the foot of the stairs and the wide-spread buffalo horns. 1t was still too early for many people to be about; a sleepy-looking porter in a green apron passing thru the hall stared at him, then bade him a regpectful good morning. The stout manager- ess came rustling down the Stairs. She flushed when she saw Ferrier. “Oh, good morning, sir.” Ferrier unbuttoned his coat. “I've got a cat here,” he sald “The poor brute followed me. It's starving.” She looked at him eriticany; sud- den tears rushed to her eyes, (Continued Tomorrow) “IL tell ‘em I don’t make the weather,” said he, “but they don't believe me, Just yesterday Chris Crow said to me, ‘Why, Mr. Man knows you make the weather, Mr. Groundhog. He says you can make spring by just coming out of your hole on Groundhog day and not see- ing your shadow. If you'd only stay in your hole you wouldn't have to even look at your shadow, and I'd like to know, when you're so lazy ‘n’ all, why you have to come poking out just for one day anyway and spoil the weather for six weeks.’ “I couldn't talk to him, Mr. Sprinkle-Blow, for his voice ts louder ‘n' mine. So won't you please help me out, and tell him that it's not my fault. Also please take Jack | Frost out of the neighborhood. He's most disliked ‘round these parts. “Your very worriedly, “GRUBBY GROUNDHOG.” “There it is again™ declared Sprinkle Blow, “Something must be done at once.” (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1921, by NE A) “You dont mind using my mother as a nursemaid even if you don't like her to visit us.” Dot said that to’me as we stood together downstairs, Edith and George had invited us to ride out to a roadhouse with them, and my mother-in-law had offered to stay home and take care of Bobbie. No effective reply came to my mind, but I was saved further em- barrassment when the Slocums drove up. “I hope the car ts mn better shape this time,” and Edith gave me a meaningful smile as she said this, “Well, no matter what happens, I'm going to abandon Tom to you again,” laughed, Dot. It seemed to be understood that Dot was to ride in back with George, while I sat beside Edith, who drove. And how she drove! The fact that it was night and that many other machines were hurry: ing northward to Westchester re- sorts made no difference at all to her. She took corners recklessly, dodged in and out of traffic, cut in front of other cars, and permitted no one to pass her, “Where's the fire?” asked George, \-VES~FRIDAY IS MY BIRTHDAY AN’ NOW T WON'T Cs} ore (0) * + Some people come West for ad- venture, some for gold, some are ¢rawn by the lure of the mild winters and the cool summers, and some are in search of lost Dealth, And among this latter class ‘was the good doctor. Tt was in the spring of 1852, and the winter in the East and Middle West had been terrible; the doctor was ill, and against the ad. vice of his friends, he decided to try. the long trip across the Plaina, so he sold everything he had and bought cattle and wagons and started to Puget Sound. He had three wagons, nine yoke of oxen and one good cow when he started out and in the wagon train which he joined there were 57 other wagons. One day, on hearing this story, David said: “I'd like to ask you one quéstion, Mr. K. Did any- body ever tell you of a single thing these coming-across-the- plains boys did that was bad?” “Wellm Mr. K. hesitated, “Wen, “a BA» Or: s Page 395 MAKING A VOLCANO : chief then as now, some more and some less.” 7 Then he told the story of the volcano, You see, these little folks had long weeks and months of slow travel which grew very tiresome, and being children, they made up plays of their own with things they could get hold/of. And one of the forbidden plays | was to get alittle pile of gun- powder, wet It, pat it into a tiny mound, and light it, when it was supposed to amolder and burn and spit fire like a real volcano. 2 In the doctor's party was one Kittle boy who had heard of thit stunt and one day when nobody was watching, he slipped a little powder from. his father’s’ supply, crept off behind the wagon and wet his powder and made his mountain and thought he was go ing to have a great time. BUT! When he put/fire to It* instead of a nice, well-behaved volcano—Bzzzzz-ooff! it went off all in a terrific flash which burst into the boy’s face, and burned deep, deep. It all happened in less than a second. Powder acts that way, You can plan and save up for it and think it’s going to be such a lot of fun, and then poof! it's you see, my father was the doctor /fone, and either somebody gets in this story and he seemed to hurt, or else it's just a second of racket, that’s all think boys average up pretty much the same in the ‘badness’ matter. I think boys got into mis Poor little boy! But after all some good came of that suffering. (To Be Continued) BRREE (Copyright, 1931, by N. BR A.) 40. A SUDDEN HALT “That reminds me,” replied his wife. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she felt in her pocket with the other, drew out a cigaret case, and put one of the tubes in her mouth, “Give me a light, wont your” It was the first time I had ever seen a woman smoke tn an open car, and I suppose I looked surprised. “Are you very much shocked?" she whispered as ehe puffed con. tentedly at the cigaet, “Not so very.” “You don’t object when Dot smokes at home.” “That's different” “Or in a restaurant.” “That's different, too.” “Is it?) Think it over.” There was a stretch of open road ahead of us, and Edith put on more speed. I watched the indicator mount upward—40, 45, Soon we were making 50 miles an hour, I had often ridden at that speed, but not at night and with a woman driving. “Isn't this too fast?™ It was Dot's voice from the rear seat, “That depends on where, we are going,” returned George evenly, “If Confessions of a Husband Edith is bound for Kingdom Coma, it's just about the right speed.” “But what—about the—rest ef us?” The words were fairly bumped out of my wife's mouth, “We'll get our pictures in the papers.” “Not—much—consolation in that” Fast as wo were going, & man in @ dark blue uniform rode up beside as on a motorcycle and seemed to main- tain the pace without effort, “Cut that out!” he commanded, “What do you think you're doing? Stop! Do you hear?” Edith obediently slowed down,, and then brought the car to a halt. OWL DRUG CO. Special Agent