The Seattle Star Newspaper, June 23, 1921, Page 11

& THURSDAY, JUNE 28, 1921. Cynthia Gre o Yoman in Search of Ideal, Brands All Men of Her| Acquaintance “Insipid’—Is She Following False S Light? Dear Miss Grey: I've been going to write you for some} , but I didn’t know how to begin, so have put it off. If} ny letter seems strange or I seem to be different, please don’t | Rudge me by that, for I assure neither are correct—I'm just) joing to be confidential, that’s all. I will be as brief as possible. Was married when 15 years| Pf age. Was the mother of three children (two of whom are} Aving), when I was 18, so you see I had no girlhood. I idol-| ‘zed the man I married. He was 27 then, but as I grew older} ind my responsibilities greater, I learned what a mistake I} fad made, for we had nothing in the world in common, Now} adm 32 years old, have been enstranged from my husband} or some time and my children cling'to me and I take care of | ith and of myself and have for years. This is what I am) ning to: I am a red-blooded, what you would call'a young) an, am in a business by myself which pays well, am in- dent, am a model as to figure, would call myself good- king, but I brood over what js past and that the best part Pyny life is lived, when I want to live and have someone love as much as the next person. I think I have studied and) ow more than the average, that is why I want a man that} ean look up to. I don’t want a man whom I can’t re-| Dect, for I’ve seen so much of that I'm sick of it. 1 go out! Ind am the life of the party. Can draw to me most any man | I want to, but they all seem so inSipid, or there is some- else the matter with them. I’m not boasting, please | think that, but am just candid. The girls say I am too icular. Maybe I am, but I surely can’t find the man who ses me. I wonder if he exists? Oh, yan understand what I mean to convey, Mis’ Gray, and don’t know what else to say, but give me any advice the ii help a lonely woman who has done everything in this orld that she can to make others happy and isn’t happy her-| and I will appreciate it. I eat, sleep and work. This is PS regular routine. When I do go out I don’t enjoy myself) LLY—just make believe—for they don’t seem to be m = ind. I’ve written you a long letter, and I didn’t mean to == }* when I started at all. Thanking you, I am = 5 MOST AWFULLY LONESOME Happiness, real, true, lasting hap- is a state of mind. I earnest. ye that—it has demonstrated to me in a hundred different I very much fear that should eventually find the man that) could “look up to” you would de contented indefinitely because responsibilities have made you! dent and such a type of man doubtless tafringe upon your! viduality. | :. Have you ever analyzed yourse!!) marry someone would be willing to | Ww? You say all men scem tn-|take any attentions from him. | Eh thagpataarecachyald | But those who were quietly work- | Ca ee eer erhey thon |S and waiting were disdainful or Me oeteces, ta the mee you|*tald of such love, “ So “Twenty-Six” must not expect hegey Wh sometimes happens that a man,|%© find his ideal by walking thru a| fe woman cither, who te “the Hife|sarden of girts. He may find her! a Party.” is never taken seri-|@t & dance because sometimes good —the finer, deeper traits of | Sitis go to dances, He may find her c ere hidden under the|!n fashionable clothes, because all of foculartty. style ten’t necessary ridiculous. She too, your friends may be may live next door; may haps you are looking for| where he does. If the Btyle of her! Bd tmpossidle,—your ideal. Some|Clothes or the length of her skirt | ‘women go thre life dissat-|blinds him to her real qualities, if 7 ly searching for anjhe can see no deeper than the Kterelly speaking docs|veneer the world puts on; if he Ruma form Often- is wants a smartly dressed girl, one which would happiness underneath their|rather than @ sympathetic, happy- tread im their unfortunate | bearted one, then he doesn’t deserve of the elusive will-o’-the-| her. that vague Kght ahead which} But somehow most of us in eur May never quite reach, search for ideals forget that we — must ourselves be someone's ideal. dn’t Advertise, We allow ourselves to become ws One Reader selfish, tmpatient, naftow-minded. Dear Miss Grey: No wonder |We forget there must be two ideals, enty-Six” didn't find his ideal So, “Twenty Six"— iri in that garden. They KNEW was looking for her. You must have hope and you must Doesn't he know that, altho most have faith, “us are in quest of the same thing, | You must love and be kind and so “can't advertise it? We must If you work, if you wait, you will , steadily /seek our ideals; ad- find the place ‘ing love always cheapens it.| Where the four-leaf clovers grow. the girls who just wanted to thin Ne Cast om mice sme 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 un- less you have an appointment with Mis Grey, as unexpected visitors interfere with her writ ing. PENNY. “THE UPHILL ROAD” joorrane neaew aroun) By RUBY M.AYRES He laughed (Continued From Yesterday) hesitancy on her part. “Phe words came clumsily to his / now tenderly. from the depths of his heart. “Am I happy? I am so happy that nd ucross the moonlit landing,|every morning when I wake up I fa locked door, Joan crouched | tell myself that it Is too good to g at her bedside in an agony |last. Every night when I go to bed ‘shame and misery. I am afraid to go to sleep, for fear “t wish I were dead! I wish I/I shall wake and find it has all been fe dead!” @ dream.” : He colored. It was not often he gave way to such bursts of elo- rier's | quence. “Nothing lasts,” said Joan. even happines: She looked CHAPTER XV ) The two days following return to Eastsea passed unevent The weather was glorious; warm, F golden sunshine by day, cool, silvery | D moonlight by night | )) Joan's brother hired a motorcar rom the next town along the coast, |! nd drove his guests into the coun. | that ry for long day excursions; for the| She moment hostilities seemed #us-| faintly. a “Oh, you impatient man! Sometimes Ferrier almost forgot * only two days—only two days that he was in the enemy's camp; | since—since you—" lor the moment his suspicions wei “Since I kissed you,” sald Ferrier. ed. to sleep. |"Joan, do you remember the first thought I 5 t Joan and he were alone for some/|time I kissed you? I rt of each day; they wandered to-|hated you—I wanted to hurt you.” Sther on. the sands, and along the| “You were very rude to me,” she “Not away from him out over the sea; her eyes were sad. “Our happiness will last,” Terrier, “When you going to me the right to prove to you it will?” . shook her sald are head, smiling Why, puntry road which ran across the|said. She averted her head—she ow of the cliff_-between grassy |forced a laugh that did not ring adows. true. “I think I wag wonderfully Twice Major had been up to Lon-/ good to forgive you so soon.” wn for the day, and each time when! ‘They waiked on a little way; w eturned ‘he seemed worried and|they reached the bend in the fangry. He would sit at dinner, his|fow path where the red letterbox lark brows scowling, hardly speak-| was built In the wall, Joan stopped. Be “I must go back—I promised them nen Joan would devote herself |some music. No, let me go alone, him—would tease him and coax | please.” n into a good humor, almost, so! She smiled at him. ft seemed to Ferrier, as if she feared| “Don't look so fierce, you frighten in bis sullen moods. me.” She paused, then she asked a Ferrier had kept to his promisé;|siow question. “Supposing—suppos- no word or sign of his had either |ing I didn’t love you after all? What ‘of the other men guessed the secret| would you do?” f which be and Joan shared Ferrier hesitated; he frowned a “Are you happy, little girl?” he | little. asked her once, wistfully. “What should I do?” he repeated It was evening, and he and Joan|slowly. He lifted his band and ad sauntered down the cliff path the moonlight. For the past two ights there had been no question cards. Bennett had declared that Mt was a sin to stay in when the moon shone; he spent his time do ng, and drinking, in the depths of be hammock in the little front gar | pointed to the radiant moon. A bank |of dark clouds was drifting toward it, and as Joan followed the direc |tion of his hand they glided acrons its golden face and left the world In |darkness. ‘That is how my life would be,” said Ferrier, She did not answer; she stood {twisting her fingers together nerv. lously, Suddenly she looked up and smiled, “Then it is just as well that |I do love you,” she said sweetly stood on tip-toe; she lifted her “Are you?” she asked him. ms and pulled his head down to She so often answered his ques-|ward her. “I think I should like to pan did not answer Ferrier’s question immediately, She shivered a little as they stood together in the warm night; then— work | tions by asking another; Ferrier had| kiss youg’ she said. moticed it, and put it down to shy The blood rushed to Ferrier's’ WELL; PM TELLING You SOMETHING! THINK YOURE THE OH, YOu THAT Wi sO SMART! y: (P A q NOW, LISTENS ALL OF US CAN'T SWING AT ONCE, ISO AS GACH KID FINISWES HE'S GOTTA CHOOSE ONE HE WANTS ‘To ° SWING NEXT. EVERETT TRUE evcre PLCTURS 't JUST _HAD TAKEN 2 I HAVEN'T Got THEM WET, BUT HERO'S brown face; she had never vol tarily kissed him yet. As ber lips touched his, he caught her him with rough passion “You asked me what I should if you didn't love me,"Ferrier s “Do you know what I should di His eyes and voice were fierce. un- soft to do think I should kill you if you didn’t love me or if you fooled me. T song of yours, Joan; I used to thi —what is it She had turned very white, her} 3 were closed, Let me go," she said weakly. “You hurt me—let me go.” ink He released her instantly; he was of rem norNe full “I'm such a great clumsy chap,” he said stammeringly. “1 don’t r ize how strong I am. ter? What can I do?” She laughed. “Don't be frightened Are you bet- it's nothing, but you're such @ bear, you know. And now we really must go back. Let me go on—you may come in five minutes.” She ran away up the narrow cliff path. Ferrier followed some later. When he reached the top of cliff he remembered that he had tobaceo. He disliked minutes the no cigars and cigarets, and, as a rule, there was nothing else to be had at the tage. He retraced his steps a li way and turned down the r which led. to the village, Most of the little shops were sh but (he one kept by the young m ried to the bank showed a light in window cot ttle ‘oad ut woman who had directed him the Ferrier opened the door and went in ing to the young married She turned as Ferrier entered was the smart maid from the tage a “Good evening,” said Ferrier, A girl stood at the counter talk: woman. it | cot He IT, WHAT DO YOU THINK Of my tur a | | | | thought she looked like a marion ette, with her short skirts and high heeled shoes. “Good evening, sir,” ene smiled and simpered. | Ferrier filled his pipe and helped himself to a match, The two women hed him interestedly. he London paper is just in, * vent the young married | woman. “We don’t get them till rather late.” She pushed one across the coun- ter. “Thanks.” and, bidding the ning, went out hand. It was past 9 o'clock. He won. dered what they were all doing down at the cottage, and quickened his steps. Hastings apd Bennett were smok- ing in the little front garden; from the sitting room came the sound of the piano, Glancing sharply toward the window, Ferrier #aw Major bend ing over Joan as she sat playing. The hot blood rushed to his face. He wondered how long it would be before he had the right to resent such liberties. “Hello!” gnid from the hammock. were lost.” “I went down to the village to get some tobacco.” Ferrier sat-down on the doorstep. Tho light from the hall fell on bis face and the paper he carried / He was on thorns to go into that lamplit room and interrupt the tete: atete, but he had told Joan that he trusted her absolutely, and so he did, he told himself doggedly, as he unfolded the paper and glanced | casually down the first page. There was nothing to interest him He turned it over laconieally, then | his eye caught a glaring headline. Ferrier bought one, smart maid good with it in his Bennett = sleepily “Thought you SEATTLE STAR Tom Straightened It Out, All Right LBUR THINKS HE’S SUCH A WISE GUY! KNOWS IT Aut! Ke “Now then,” said Sprinkle-Blow, after Nancy had returned from the telephone and said that Mr. Sun had promised to chase Jack Frost right away. “Nick, you bring the yellow watering-pot, and Nancy, bring the green one, and we'll go to my back yard and fill them from one of my magic rain barrels.” So they all trooped to the Weath, erman'’s back yard where he kept bis queer contraptions for weather: making. T' ‘© were several barrels marked “Rain,” one being marked Spring Rain,” another “Hard Storms,” another “Regular Pourdowns,” another “Mixed.” “What is the ‘mixed’ one?” asked Nancy curiously. Sprinkle: “I plumb forget,” said he. “I forget what mixture I put in there last, whether it was sleect, rain 'n’ hail, or wind 'n’ rain. Probably one of the last two, because I scarcely lines. Bennett, the shadowy garden, saw the gud. den clenching of the hands that held the paper, “What's up?” he asked. Ferrier did not answer; he was en- grossed in the paragraph before him “Miss Kitty Inglis, the popular young dancer, committed “suicide early this morning in her flat at Kensington. When her maid went to call her, she received no answer, and when the door was forced, Miss Inglis was found dead on her bed Death was due to poisoning. A let ter was found in the room, ad- dressed to a gentleman to whom Miss Inglis is believed to have been engaged. Great regret will be felt among those who know this clever young dancer, who was only 24 years of age.” Ferrier rose abruptty to his feet. He went ifito the house and pushed open the closed door of the sitting Major turned sharply as he room. entered, and Joan broke off with a discordant chord Ferrier held the paper to Major. His voice was tense when he spoke, “Read that,” he said. Major stretched a languid hand for the paper, He carried it over to the lamplight, and for a moment there was silence in the little room. (Continued Tomorrow) IF ‘Herpicide “Suicide of a Popular Dancer He read on down the Uirst few OWL DRUG CO. Special Agent thy ) Wi v, PAA gd xe ° afte, TWINS HE WAS TRYING TO TELL ME THAT | WAS Too FAT To WEAR SHORT DRESSES. OH DON'T EVER THAT BIRD SAYS i Be ‘ Sprinkle-Blow scratched his head. “I plumb forget,” said he think that I would be absent-minded enough at this time of year to put Jin sleet.” “Which one shall we get our rain jout of?” askeg Nick, He was think- jing of Ben Bunny's letter, and won- jdering which kind of rain Ben liked best. “Warm Spring.” Sprinkle.-Blow told him. “You and Nancy fill up |your watering-pots and I'll go and set my bag.” | “Your bag! exclaimed the twins er, wondering what he meant. “"M, h'm!" repeated the Weather: man, “Don't you remember that | Ben Bunny also asked me to stop the breezes from blowing away the low seratched his head, |earrot seeds in the shss-hatch gar-} den. I told those breezes to be good | when I let, them out and they prom- |ised, but evidently they've forgotten their manners, It's my job to catch ‘em. The best way to catch breezes lis by using a bag like mine. ‘They watching him from |think it's fun to blow on things and | jpuff them up. When they get in- side my bag to blow, I'l pull the string.” (To Be Continued) At the roadhouse we ordered some “soft’ drinks—we could have gotten anything that we were willing to pay for—and then I showed Edith the letter I had written to her father. She made a few suggestions and appeared very confident that I would land the job. The “roadhouse” was beautifully decorated and furnished. Except that you had to take a long automobile ride to get here it did not differ very much from similar restaurants in the city. The music was fair and |the dancing extreme. Nor wag there anything to distin- guish this roadhouse from a score or more other establishments on the outskirts of the city, but this season it was “the thing” to go to this par. tic! place. We had been tn the restaurant about half an hour when a foreign- looking person strolled up to our table. then greeted him very cordially. It appeared to me that George did not seem so glad to see him. The stranger was introduced to Dot and me as Mr, Salter. Edith immediately began to ask him a great many questions—when « ANY NOTICE OF WHAT MY WIFE USES HER IMAGINATION “1 KEEP COOL SHE'S IN “THE HOUSE FANNING HERSELF TAKE BODY ELSE MYSELF a David said, “I ‘spect . that Powder story was a good one to tell us this close to the 4th of July; it'll make us let it alone.” “I certainly hope it will,” re plied the pioneer. “It would if you had any idea how the poor lad suffered with those awful burns.” “But I do like stories with guns and things in ‘em,” David went on, “I wish you could think up one more.” “I could tell you one on George,” he said. “Some folks thought it was a joke, but George Edith gave a quick start and) never cou™ see it that way. When he was quite a young man he bought a very fine double-bar- reled shotgun, It cost a lot of money and had all the points a fellow likes to have in a gun, and George was most awfully proud of it. “He took good care of it, too; \] kept it clean and never let a speck of rust get on it, and he loved it almost like a live thing. “You see, in those days a man had to have his gun with him pretty nearly all the time, and it helped him out of so much danger, and got him so much of his food that it wasn’t to him what a gun would mean to a boy now. “One night } | George and two (Copyright, 1921, by N. BA) pie had returned from abroad, why he hadn't let her know he was in town, what his plans were, etc. George listened in dismal silence. |He had taken one look at the man j}when the latter approached our |table, and that one look had evi- dently been enough, Salter? Salter? * * * I tried to |place the name, Then I remembered |hearing something about a man with a name like that who had caused |some trouble between Edith and | George. I glanced at the man ‘at our table. He was a thin, waspishlook- ing chap, black bair, black eyes, |black mustache twisted into sharp points I didn’t think much of Sdith's taste, Salter left us for a moment to make his excuses to his friends and jthen returned to our table. He [seemed completely at his ease and jauietly ignored the fact that George avoided speaking to him. He ad- dressed most of his remarks to Edith, altho he oceasionally included Dot or me in the conversation. From the casual way in which he chatted one would have believed that he was on intimate terms with most of the crowned heads of Europe and HE NEVER HAS AN IDEA OF HiS OWN - HE ONLY REPEATS LIKE A PARROT WHAT EVERY TI CHOOSE SWING AGAIN i By Mabel Cl Page 397 THE SHOTGUN. BREESE Confessions of a Husband 1S SAYING! BY BLOSSER To » other young fellows were in George's cabin, when the door was pushed open and some In dians filed in. “They never knocked, you know; just came tn. “Well, the boys weren’t afraid, the Indians were around so much, they didn’t think anything of it, except to see that nothing was lying around loose for the rascals to steal; they’d steal anything, these Indians, and you couldn't make them give it back, either, “The unexpected visitors stayed quite a while, and then with a few grunting, queer sounds in their throats, they passed out into the night. “But one thing’ the white man failed to notice. When one tall In- dian folded his blanket about him, he folded into it the treasured | gun. “When he missed it, George rushed out into the night and ran |down to the shore and called out to the man to bring it back— “Whizz! Right past his ear sang a bullet, and that was the end of his effort to recover his stolen gun.” 42, EDITH MEETS AN OLD FRIEND never spoke to anyone below a duke in rank. However, I had met that kind before and promptly put him down as a first-rate bluff. 1 triéato open a conversation with |George about the baseball race, but jit was hard to make any progress Against the current of chatter that came from Edith and Salter. ‘The latter was explaining to Edith why a. |royal engagement had been broken off, and, altho I heard only flashes lof ‘the story, it seemed to me that he was hinting he had been partly responsible. When the time came to leave, | Edith insisted on Salter driving back |with us, He was given the seat be- side her that T had occupled on the ride out, while I was squeezed in with Dot and George on a seat that was meant for only two. (To Be Continued) Bh