The Seattle Star Newspaper, June 24, 1921, Page 15

Cynthia Grey: Young Men Write in an Effort to Convince “Just | Mary” That She Is Mistaken About Them—Some Seek to Place Blame on Girls Instead, BY CYNTHIA GREY “Just Mary,” the girl correspondent who so bitterly de- mounced the 20th century young men, especially thetr gener- ally established “good-night kiss payment plan” for an eve- ning’s entertainment, has received some interesting replies 1 GUESS DOINGS THE SEATTLE STAR OF THE DUFF. THEY SHOULD BE IN BLOOM BY THESE PEONY BULBS THAT | PLANTED || THIS TIME! WERE NO Goop! lm GOING ‘To CALL UP GET ME A TROWEL]} THERE 1S NO USE AND I'LL LOOK AT THEM AND SEE HOW ‘THEY ARE from young men. One of ther agrees with her, but says th boys. The letters follow: Dear Miss Grey: your column. Now, listen Ma T am a 1921 boy thru and should. But let me tell you of one e a young lady to two or three l this is what I heard: My gi tones to some one next to he you dance with Al?” “Yes, a “Oh, yes, but he is awfully slow.” “What do you mean™ “Well, now G@on't you tell a soul, but listen. I've Deen out with him six times and he hasn't even held my hand, nor asked for a ‘goodnight kiss’—you know I like him very much, but he is so slow.” Needless to called on her since I accompanied her home that evening. T could name some other Instances, Dut it would take too much space and make my letter too long. But gain I say, you're all wrong “Just Mary,” all wrong. Not all of the Boys “require” a little mushing to enjoy the company of a girl, or as “payment for pleasure received.” Here's hoping you meet your ideal ®ome day. Whenever I meet a girl that likes to have a good time (I said a “good” time,) and who has a little common nse, I'll either die from the shock finding her, or marry her before Miose her. So far, I have failed to find her, altho I've been in Seattle @or 24 years. Searchingly, AL. eee ble, and above all, “behavab irl, and very “decent.” But f, Dear Miss Grey: After reading Just Mary's” letter and being a mere man, I would like to say that I certainly agree with her. that most fellows do not care to are the same way. About all most giris (I say most, not all) think of fs going to jazz dances and having a money he ts out of luck. I do not drink, smoke, hang @round pool rooms and so on, neither do I pretend to be an angel. I like to go to dances once in a while and have a good time and am not a tight- wad and when I meet a Indy I treat her as a gentleman would, but tho J am past 26, I have not as yet found my ideal, real girl and had al ghost becan to think that there were any girls who cared for that kind a man. i ° ‘(Continued From Page 6) Jonger!” “No,” said Ferrier. hand from her shoulder. © paid again, in a voice of flint He bad been so confident what her an- | swer would be—it was a terrible dis- _ appointment. “You told me you would trust me.” she made the plea in a low woice. “You promised you would ‘trust me.” “2 Pog trust’ you,” he maintained P@oggedly. “But what gort of scoun- drei is a man who stands by and allows other men to fool with the woman he loves? I have had to do it up to now-—for your sak: I tell you I will do it no longer.” ~voice rose excitedly. “Oh, hush! Some one will hear.” Her voice was agitated; she looked past him toward the closed door. ‘Some ope will be sure to hear,” she ‘urged in panic. Ferrier laughed roughly. + “Let them hear,” he said. “The whole world is welcome to hear; I Jove you—I love the very ground you walk on, and ff you love me He broke off jaggedly. “Do you love me, Joan?” The quiet confidence had left his voice; his face was agitated. | Joan averted her head. “Must I always be telling you? It 4s you who cannot love me, if you will not do as I ask.” He swung around. “You never give me a direct an- ewer.” His eyes blazed passion- ately. “Why do you not answer my question? You have only to look at me to know that I love you M God!—if you are playing with mi She cried out, shrinking from him. Ferrier strode away to the window. He could hardly trust himself to 4 speak—there was a breathless si-| lence. “[—I beg your pardon,” he said f. at length disjointedly. “I'm sorry, but you don’t understand; no wim n can ever understand what it is 7, a man to see the woman he loves and another man—” His voice grew bitter, “I have never cared for any. one in all my life till now. I'm a rough chap; if I'd had half a dozen love affairs before I met you, I sup pose I should go about the job bet- ter” Still no answer. Ferrier turned; Joan sat at the table, her hands folded in her lap, her little face n and miserable; there was of blind hopelessness in her Ferrier spoke her name ' with a half sob in his voice. It was infinitely pathetic to see the power this girl had over the big fellow. She lifted her eyes “There ant coming down. stairs,” she said apathetically. She busied herself with the coffee: when the door opened to admit Major, she ig somebody Permit me to speak to “Just Mary” thru these specimens that you describe. young lady to a dance or theatre I try to act as a young man} I do not ask for a good-night “mush session,” either. | nd tried to be as a young man ened to be sitting out a dance talking with a fellow, and I know | “step out” with a girl unless she is | fo-called good sport, but most girls) time, so-called, and if a fellow | hasn't a car and can’t spend all kinds } FTHE UPHILL ROAD” (Copyright, Hodder & Stoughton) By RUBY M.AYRES His | j m says she’s all wrong; another | e girls are just as bad as the ary, you’re all wrong. thru, and yet I’m not one of When I accompany a} xperience that I had. I “took” hows” and a couple of dance: hould be—jolly, companion-| She seemed to be a quiet} one evening at a dance I hap- i rl friend was speaking in low r, presumably her chum, “Did| nd he seems to be very nice. 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 net come on other days than Tuesday un- less you have an appointment with Miss Grey, as unexpected | | visitors interfere with her writ- | | ing. | But am sure there are some girs | of that kind left in this world of | fast | , and after reading “Just Mary's” letter I still have hopes. | | And would like to say that I am one | |who would certainly like to “step | out” with a real, old-fashioned girl | jlike “Jist Mary,” and am sure it} would be a real preasure to meet | her | Here's hoping I may. | JUST GEORGE. | ee | Dear Miss Grey: To “Just Mary” | I would like to say: Any “real good girl” should not feel hurt to be turned down by these soctal tea-| | hounds, but consider it an honor tn-| stead. Some day she will be discov: | ered by the right man, C.K, P. | eee | Dear Miss Grey: Just a few lines im answer to the letter in yester-| day’s paper, written by the girl that | signed her name “Just Mary.” ‘There are too many men that pre | fer the girls that wear their hair done up absurdly and their skirts ex- tremely short; but, on the other side, there are men that admire @ girl for | being a little old-fashioned. T am one of that type, and would/ like to meet Mary, for I would not judge her by the standard of absurd hair dress and short-skirts, but by her | character instead, for that is what counts and endures thru the advers+ ties of this life and prepares us for the life beyond, I don’t blame her for being dis gusted with the type she described. w. R out to him in the garden of her own accord as he sat in tho sunshine reading the paper. The morning papers had @ lengthy account of poor little Kitty Inglis’ suicide; they gave a photo- graph of her. Her saucy, common- ly pretty little face smiled at Fer- rier from the pages as she had smiled a few nights ago in the dress ing room at the Frivolity. Joan looked over his shoulder at the poor little dancer. “Why*are you so interested in that poor girl?” she asked him, | “I am not," he told her. He won- dered what she would say If he told her that the dead girl had been Ma "= wife—or did she know already? Be rose to his feet. “I want tg speak to you,” eaid Joan, “Shall we go out a little | way?” He followed readily; they walked down the winding cliff path to the sands, “What do you want to sxy?” asked Ferrier, He did not look at her—he stalked along beside her, hands deep-thrust in his pockets. She seemed to find it difficult to begin. ‘Twice her ps moved; once she glameed up at him @ith scared eyes, then— “You were angry with me this |morning. I am very sorry—but no, wait a moment.” She put out a hand to ward him off as he turned to her eagerly. “I want to say some thing to you first.” She stopped again; the color came land went in her pale cheeks. “Mr. fiajor has asked me to go over to Teele with him. He wants me to go |with him alone,” she spoke rapidly |now, as if anxious to get thru the words, “We shall go in the car— just for the drive and back. I thought I ought to tell you. I can’t well refuse; I have told my brother. He-—he does not mind; but, of course, | I could not go without letting you know. Thete is no harm in it—and if you trust me—I must go. You |don't understand, and I can't ex- plain; but—you don’t mind, do you?” Ferrier’s big strides had «neon: jsclously quickened; ehe almost had |to run to keep up with him. His jface was gray, his eyes stared | straight before him. | hard!” said Joan appealingly. |She had never spoken his Christian | name before: she did so now timidly. | |The little faltering appeal st [him like a blow; he was nearly r with rage and jealo’ He he jit only as a new subtle means with | whic h to subjugate him The roar ioe the sea, and the soft breeze |seemed to fling the words of her song to him moockingly- She can both false and friendly be beware! | Trust her not; she is fooling thee— | down the suspi as laughing and chatting with Fer fooling thee” or, as if she bad not a care in the| He stood still; he turned, looking orld. |down at her with flaming eyes from Major glanced from one to the|the gray pallor of his face; his other with jealous suspicion; he sat| voice was terrible when he spoke. down sulkily, “You ask me if I ‘mind’? You Ferrier had no further opportu-| keep on throwing in my face that I nity for conversation with Joan till|do not trust you? Do I mind, you late in the morning: then she came ask mo—if you go alone with a man SAY-I Gor TH" BATH TUB FILLED NOW = HURRY UP AN' TAKE YER BATU SO WE CAN Go To AW, SEE WHY T HAFTA “TAKE A BATH AN You FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS GEE~T DON'T Al: a Ne GOOD AND BROWN ION THIS -STUFR ! — Haw - HAW pte k : | \ Y vA whom you know to be a scoundrel and a blackguard—to spend the whole afternoon in his company. Why should I ‘mind’?” There was a sneer in his voice—the voice that could be so wonderful in its depths of tendefness for her. “Go by all means! But if you do—" his breath tore from his throat. “If you do, it is an end ‘to everything between us You are afraid to anger him—you have never known my anger yet! 1 would give my life for you, but if you go I will never fargive you, or take you back!” CHAPTER XVI It was characteristic of Richard Ferrier that he waited for no answer to the words he had flung at Joan's appeal; he turned and strode away from her. He was beginning at last to real- ize that he had walked in a fool's adise. Common sense told him plainly enough that had “this girl cared for him, nothing would ever have parted them. He tried not to believe it—he would have given 10 years of his life to have shouted ion in his heart. He did not go back to the cottage to lunch. He stayed out on the cliffs, fighting the despair in his heart. If she went to Teele with Edward Major it would be his answer once and for all He was face to face with grim reality, Joan had been with these men for so long, seen with their eyes for so many years, that it had become impossible for her to think or act independently. He recalled what the stout man: ageress at the London hotel had told him. “gix months’ tmpridonment—stx months’ imprisonment!” ) What chance had she had? One weak girl in a den of sooundrels, i THAT Makes {ve GOT To seTTLE WITH — THS One THaT CHEATED MS AND THE ORE THAT SYM PATHIZED |The inevitable revulsion of feeling }came, pity surged thra him. He |remembered that day on the sands |when he came back from London. He could still feel the light pressure of her head above his beating heart, the soft touch of her lips on his. |She loved him—she did love him; |how could he doubt her? He went back hurriedly toward the cottage; there was a new buoy ancy in his step, He told himself that she had not gone, that he would find her in the garden or in the house, that he would hear her voica, meet the sweet frankness of her eyes—and the black clouds about his sun would disperse once more. He pushed the gate open eagerly, there was nobody in the garden. He | Strode on into the house; there was a sleepy silence over everything. The dming room was empty—a | big bee droned lazily on the window the piano stood open, some music on the rack. He went across to the Nttle room on the other side of the hall where ad played bridge the night be Hastings lay asleep in one of the big chairs, his eyeglass dangled ninst his waiste . bis woranish hands, with their slim, rather cruel looking fingers, hung limply at his sides; Bennett was writing letters at a table in the window, He looked up and nodded at Fer- rier. Where've you been? he asked. “We thought of sending the town. erler round he grinned. “Awful hot, “Where is everybody?" asked F rier, “Major and—Miss Hastings? Bennett carefully biotted the let ter he had been writing. “Gone out in the car—blazing hot; he ja gone over to Teele to tea The latter was a sharp exclama tion. Bennett rose to his feet in sudden alarm, Ferricr’s tall Uigure AW ROMEO, JUST THINK = WA COZY FLAT WITH A WIFE E! DAFFY OVER YOU, MENDING YOUR 5*\SOCKS, AND COOKING YOUR FAVORITE 2 MEAL OF SPAGHETTI AND ANGEL CAKE! Tom Didn't Give Them a Chance IN FUSSING WITH THEM NOW! VLE CALL “THAT BIRD AND TELL HIME ve Loy: SF “%, Kei jin Atos Nancy and Nick turned the tap on the barrel marked “Warm Spring Rain” and held their watering-pots underneath the sprout. Sprinkle Blow, the Weatherman, stood by and told them when they had enough. Really It was surprising how much rain those watering-pots held, but then it was magic rain, 60 that made a difference. Then Sprinkle-Blow took a bag out of his magic umbrella and remarked that they'd better be going. “Do you know just where Farmer Smith's sass patch garden is?” he asked the twins, “Up here on my star where I live I get things mixed up, and I'm just as likely as not to make it rain on F ter wheat.” Nick 8% for once he id he knew, had staggered a little—he put his hand back, catching at a chair for support. “flave some brandy,” sid Ben net promptly. “I suppose you've been in the sun; sleeping, perhaps, eho “No, but—it ts hot—thanks.” He took the tumbler held to him, and gulped off the contents; the swimming sensation cleared from his head—his heart began to beat again slowly. Bennett watched him. “Better?” he asked, “Good! Sit down for @ bit.’ He went back to his writing; Fer- rier sat down on the edge of the sofa. The world was not quite steady about him yet. He sat staring dully at the car. peted floor—it was a green carpet with scattered roses, and a border, Ferrier counted the roses backward and forward, then he counted the petals. It annoyed him because some of the flowers had nine petals and some seven, Save for the ridic ulons detail, his mind felt numbed —blank. Presently he got up and walked out of the room. Bennett let him go without comment, but after a moment he leaned across and shook the man sleeping in the chair. Hastings woke up with a start and a long yawn. rrier’s ill,” said the little man meaningly. “Nearly went down in a faint just now; go and have a look at him--gone upstairs, I think.” Hastings got to his feet; he smoothed his hair and readjusted his eyeglass. “ii” he sald vaguely. “Um! Looked bad.” * Hastings went up the stairs slow: ly; he tried Ferrier’s door, but it was locked. He called his name thru the keyhole. (Continued Tomorrow) E| mér Brown's field of win- | It was surprising how much rain those watering pots held. ‘SUPPOSE HELL HAVE A LOT OF ALIBI'S ABOUT THE SOIL AND HOW THEY WERE PLANTED BUT 1 PLANTED THOSE MYSELF ANO 1 KNOW HOW ‘THEY WERE ‘ COME UP - THEY WERE TRYING TO GROW THE WRONG WAY-You ANY WONDER “THEY DIDN’T PLANTED THEM UPSIDE T'M GONNA SEE IF T 1S -AW= IT GEE WHIZ7~ IT Is SO ! THe WUT BROS-CHES &WA WERE YOU EVER ON A DIET? A DEER TO “Mr. Abrams,” asked David, “did you live tn Seattle all the time when you were a pioncer?” “Not quite, David,” Mr. Abrams: replied, “I remember one time when I was up on Whidby island I came near not coming back to Seattle, or anywhere else. “I was out hunting deer, had my dog and my gum and we chased @ deer out of the brush and he ran across the beach and jumped in the water. “That's what a deer wi do every time if he can, because he knows he can outswim any dor and it is his best hope of getting away. “Well, I saw htm striking out across Saratoga passage and I didn’t want to lose him, so seeing a canoe on the beach, I called out to the Indian and his squaw who were nearby. ‘Take me out after the deer, won't you? “But the man shook his head and said the canoe was too small; big enough for only one. “So I jumped in and struck out by myself after the deer and before very long, about two or three hundred yards out tn the deep water, I came up to him and gave him a whack with my paddle, but he didn’t act as I ex- had helped Farmer Smith to patch a hole in his fence. To tell the truth they had patched the hole to keep | Ben Bunny out, and how Ben knew | #0 much about the carrot seed ‘n’ lettuce seeds n’ all, he couldn't say, unless Ben had found another way to get in. It might be that he had burrowed under the ground. | Well, Mr. Sprinkle-Blow spied a} nice fleecy cloud coming along just! then, and as it going in the very direction that Farmer Smith lived, he said, “One for the money,” and the rest of it, and they all jumped | from the star tozether, and the fairy | Weatherman sified down safely as usual under his open umbrella, with Nancy and Nick after him in their Magic Green Shoes. They landed right in the middle of the cloud and | peeped down thru a hole. “There's the place, right there,” | cried Nick, pointing down, “Farmer | mith's garden is right underneath us.” Sprinkle-Blow lowered his bar for catching breezes, and told the ms to turn on the rain. (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1921, by Seattle Star) | (Copyright, 1921, by N. BA.) 43. A SELF-INVITED GUEST I was not greatly surprised when, zebra. a few days after our foursome at] There were some things I had to the roadhouse—which had turned] admire about Edith. One was her into a fivesome—Kdith called me|courage—some people would have up. called it cheek. ‘Another was her “Don't you want to take a charm-| habit of being punctual. She was on ing lady to luncheon?" she asked.| time that day to the very minute. “Don't I?" I echoed, “Should I have worn a heavy “All right, What time should 1| veil?” she demanded. “You know make my appearance on the scene? | you do seem so afraid of being seen “Where are you now?” with me,” “Shopping at McComber’s. Must] “Nonsense,” I answered easily. I tell you what } am buying?" “You may not be flattered, but the “No.” (I said this hastily) “If| truth is you don't look a bit like an you take the subway downtown, I'll | adventures.” meet you at the William st. station ‘or heaven's sake, don’t tell me I at half-past twelve.” look like a respectable married wom- “Are you afraid your stenographer| an. Not in this skirt™ will become jealous if I call for you] «1g respectability so terrible at the office again?” “No, humdrum. Koring.” It was irritating the way she had] “still, you haven't escaped It.” picked on that sore spot. Of course,| “It's ‘very discouraging of you to ‘is So! GUESS I KNow=TM ME AN' You are Sell By BA> Cle * * Page 398 BEMEE Confessions of a Husband knew there would be a lot of com ment if she came by for me at the office again Talk about women having to be careful of their steps! A married man who so much as looks at another woman is the victim of more un- timely curiosity than a two-headed \ 80. no one would become jealous, but I} say I'm going to get even by picking out the most expensive items on the menu, Are we going to the same place for lunch?” “No, we'll try another restaurant this time.” I remembered what Dot had said about Bristol's chophouse, BY AHERN No, BUT ONCE TWAS ON A GONDOLA THE RESCUB tle cance and gave it such a eat under shove that the next thing ¥ knew I was floundering around tm deep water. “I was not a good swimmer, shore seemed a long way off. “I reached out to get hold the canoe and got hold of so thing. I didn’t know what, hung on, and I felt nryself being — swiftly towed along thru the water. 4 “I spluttered and spat out the water I had in my mouth and then I realized that I was being towed in by the deer. I was | clinging for dear life to his tafl and he was swimming for dear life. “When I got my eyes clear of water, enough so that I could see, I realized that my peculiar tow Tine was uncertain of his dires tion and I assure you I had some. very anxious minutes before my friend the deer decided on his course, . “But I did my best to swim and help him along, and after what seemed an awful time, we reached Camano island. “It's a good joke on me now, but {t wasn’t so funny then.” Pegey said, “But I do feel most sorry for the good little deer.” I was going to see that she had” nothing to complain of this time. So today ‘we went to Francois, where the prices were much higher and the food not nearly so good, ~ Hadith fulfilled her threat by ordert a luncheon which began with clams” and ended with an ice, and inelad almost everything in between, morning spending poor George's; — money that I'm as hungry as a lion*| “As a couple of lions,” was myj| only comment. (Continued Tomorrow) |Are SSRIS! and how she had suspected us of lunching in one of the alcoves there, STAR WAN TADS re.