The Seattle Star Newspaper, September 19, 1921, Page 9

ri ona Ea En NCCE lB: SEATTLE STAR Wilbur Tries to Make a Hit SAY, BOSS I'VE BEEN STUDYING UP NIGHTS HOW WE COULD IMPROVE OUR WINDOW DISPLAY = | WORKED OUT A STUNT AND | WISH You'D TAKE A LOOK AT IT AND SEE NOW THAT '"M MARRIED I'VE GOT ‘TO GET BUSY AND DO SOMETHING AROUND “THE OFFICE THAT WILL MAKE ‘THE BOSS GIVE ME A RAISE- "LL DRUM UP SOME BUSINESS SOME THATS A CLEVER STUNT! By RUBY M. AYRES ere ‘ All Right BEGIN READING HERE TODAT WHO's WHO IN THE STORY ROPERICK BRITON, familiarity called *Roria, whooe rich father has just diet, Ring Roderick off with 200 pounds ce father haw seared to dlailke erick ever RODERIC’S BUTTERFLY MOFUER TOM Away with another man, The mother A deen dead At @ clre K rescues ROSALIE, a trapere performer, Just BHERNEY, the oltre ger, iD fo beat her IAN FANE, bat she throw A mocretly weds jon eatate to Ko M.A UNC elreus, shadows NOW Go ON WITH THE STORY {Continued From Yesterday) oderick had staggered back a He stood leaning against the . staring before him with in “efedulous eyes a“® He felt as if he could have flung} Sup his arms and shouted with wild) He was awake at last-—awake' He was free—tree—anf ich! _ dey. ) Hig troubles had fallen from him; 4 ‘ who suffers ae , a fair trial. ON, Cocoanut Oil Makes Vi Lilian Fane was his for the asking: | | was his for flashed him & picture of a country lane and a Biel with tears in her eyes, a girl with quivering lipsethat, unasked,) been ritised to bis. . “Whatever happens, I shall always be glad you married me~whatever Memory Roderick flung up his hands to his} face with a distraught gesture; then he began to laugh. Ho laughed end es till old. Fergerson grew 4 ee he said, sharply laid a hand on shoulder, shaking him roughly “Pull yourself together, Roderick.” He crossed to the sideboard and d out a stiff dose of brandy® He sht it back and made Rorte it. Then he pushed him down the armchair. fou've had a bit of a shock, T .” he said, kindly ly averted his eyes. “But tt’ right now, tny boy; you've come! ‘ smiling on the other side, and mobody is more glad than I am. You canceling your berth for or I will for you. You've your whole life before you, a happy days, please Ged.” But young Briton made no answer. “He sat with his head ‘dropped in his ; bitterness in his soul. ‘Away on the other side of the they might have been happy and Rosalie — circumstances tht in time have formed a bond |_Affection, even love, between 7 but now, he shuddered at the dge of what he had done. “He felt old Fergerson’s hand again Som his shoulders, heard his kind He "EN leave you now, Roderick; be better alone. Cheer up, my d yet er yout RS, WAGNER > OF PAM BEACH = ae ants Voge land I was cured, After Twas mar- I had the ouble farmingandheavy the young man’s, He consid: | and) a happy future in store) Shall I wire to the) No? Very well, see to, 2 Reserved +@ eee it yourself, tomorrow,” Me walke@ across the room, but j With his fingers on the doorhandle, looked back at Rodertck | By the way, there's one condition attached to your father’s will, Rod erick. I suppose it's hardly neces sary to mention it, but one never knows. He makes you his heir abso lutely on condition that you are un married, But there's no need to ask such a question, I suppose—eh?" } There was a moment of «llence— then Rorte rose slowly to hty feet staring across at Mr. Fergerson's confidently amiling face: he echoed his last words mechanically yn condition that I am | rieat” Mr "An I'l come down again unmar Fergerson laughed unnecessary condition, you think?" he asked, jocundly, “Well, | well, my boy—all's well that ends| well, you know, ‘The best of luck to you. If you want me you know | where Iam to be found,” He opened and closed quietly behind him. The little sound seemed to rouse} Roderick from the dazed stupor into | which he had fallen. He took a step forward “Mr. Pergerson.” He thought he shouted the otf | man's name aloud, but in reality the! was almost a whisper; it was un } answered save for the heavy closing of the front door. Rorie stood still in the middle of the room; he turned hie head vacant. | ly and looked out of the window Mr. Fergerson was walking rapidly down the drive; a moment, and he had turned into the road; the big | carriage gate swung slowly into its socket “Unmarried.” Young Hejton spoke the word aldid | thra the silent room; he felt in his pocket for the handful of papers had carelessty flung down for Mr. | Fergerson's inspection. He sorted jene from them, and unfolded it me | chanteally With that evidence before his eyes it was no longer possible to believe jthat the morning had been onfy a} | dream—no longer possible to hug to| his heart the fool's hope that he had only to wait and he would wake up| free and unfettered. | His own name stared at j boldly from the certificate, Rosalie’s—poor little Rosalie, the” door him and} who WAY FRECKLES brow with his handkerchief; tt was| wet with perspiration, He felt stifling. “No, thank you, Blunt. I'm not going after all.” “rm very glad to hear it, Mr Rorie. 1 could ope as you was stay ing here always, sir.” Roderick forced a laugh. “So Lam. Fergerson has turned up another will, You'd better tell the other servants. They can ali stay on if they Uke. Blunt beamed. “And delighted I am to hear it, Mr. Korte; ang delighted we shall all be air. If there's anything you're wanung, Mr. Rorie, sir?” ‘The fact | was his wife now—his wife! Young Briton's hand closed con- | vulsively over the paper so carefully | | filled in and signed and witnessed. For the moment the revulsion of | feeling nearty drove him to a frenzy jof madness; the memory of the | Omid eyes Rosalie had raised to him | jas he set her down at the crossroads | | that morning brought nothing better | than hatred now to his heart. It/ | Seemed all the worse that she was in | nocent and he the fool who had un | wittingly compassed his own ruin! He paced up and down the roony up and down, torn with conficting emotions. He had Med to olf Fergerson, tf hot actually, stil in theory. [ha ad et the oid man po away con, | Kident that everything was as it had ee week ago. , what did it matter? Nobody | knew of the wedding, save the unin- terested parson and the verger, and hac ene and she, poor child! she did not love him. What difference | could it make to her whether he ac-/ knowledged her to the world or not? | He could help her and look after her Just the same. He would be gener. ous—he would place her beyond want Tike 224 discomfért forever. Impossible plans te secure himself ran riot thru young Briton’s brain—for the mo- ment he was like a man who has - ee murder, and, terror- stricken, echemes to save his neck! He hated poverty; he had been a foot | to imagine he could ever fnce It. He} loved money, and the things It could procure; he shuddered as he thought of the tha he had booked almost two days ago. All at once he recalled the third-class quar-| “Nothing. thanks. Stop a minute. You can send « wire for m Rorte cromed to hts father’s desk and seritbied a telegram shakily “Have it sent at once.” “Yea, ai Blunt picked op the form and walked majestically to the door, “Reg pardon, sir”—-he turned “but that there hunchback has been hanging about again. I think Mr. Forie, it's a case for the police “Nongense' Rorle answered sharp: ly. The mention of the hunchback gave him an uncomfortable jar. “The chap Is an idiot, that’s all. I heard about him io the village He was with that clrous that came a werle ago. He won't do any harm; let him alone.” } “Very good, str.” Blont left the room, shutting the door behind him. Blunt was an excellent servant, but he was not above the weakness of his class. The first thing he did | when he found bimself alone was to read the message Rorie had written, | He was not a very brillant scholar and it took him some minutes to | #pell out the serfbbied words. 1 “Caneel both berths, Orient boat, wailing tomorrow.—Briton.” “Both berths.” Blunt seratehed his two chins. “Now I wonder,” he) solllog ulzed. CHAPTER VIT ‘The rest of the day passed on lead: | on feet; it seemed an eternity till evening Rorie was tossed to and fro on a) sea of emotions which he had never experienced before. Remorse, shame, and anger alternately held bim in their clutches. He hardly touched his dinner, Blunt sygeested a bottle ‘g0 I told my husband to get ‘TY 07 % biz liner he had once vie-| of champagne to celebrate the unex table Com- rT never have , Lrec-| J 's Vegeta-| pound and think every y: young! H should take it. You can publi and it may be the means ‘eome other girl ¥ M. WaGNer, Box 759, , Florida. of the Bed While no woman is entirely free! pseme periodic suffering it does not be the plan o’ nature that n should suffer so severety and n pain exists something is wron; h should be set right. rey, girl from monthly crai Vege- a Splendid Shampoo “If you Wnt to keep your hair fn 004 condition, be careful what you wash it with Most soaps and prepared shampoos contain too much alkali. This dries the scalp, makes the hair brittle, and| is yery harmful) Mulsified cocoanut off shampoo (which is pure and en tirely greastless), is much better than anything else you can use for ope this can’t possibly in the hair. imply moisten your hair with wa. Ee Gnd rub it in. One or two tea spoonfuls of Mulsified will make an gbundarme of rich, creamy lather, and cleanses the hair and scalp thor. y. The lather rinses out easily removes every particle of dust, dirt, dandruff and excessive oil. The hair dries quickly and evenly, and it leaves it fine and silky, bright, flutty and easy to manage. You can get Mulsified cocoanut oi! poo at most any drug store, It is very cheap, and a few ounces is ih to last every one in the fam. for Months. He sure your drug- gives you Mulsified —Advertise rs Recommend Dpto for the Eyes Bon-Opto as a safe home in the treatment of eye and to strengthen eye- Bold under money refund Advertisement. Milk Bread}—Advertisement. or woman.’”| mps| Iie 8 and eye specialists pre- | ited out of curiosity. He had been a saloon passenger then; the con tramt between the luxury of his own| quarters and the other had filled him} with 4 sense of positive nausea. And yet, not a couple of hours ago, he had been ready and willing to sail a« & poor man—to put up with the dis-| | comforts of a poor man | It was horrible to think of now.| |He thought of Rosalie, too; and somehow he could not remember the wistful eyes that had appealed to his pity—the bruised wrist she had vain ly tried to conceal—the soft hair and small red mouth that had reminded him of his own poor little mother could only think of the huge flapping goloshes she had worn tc cross the sodden field—the shabby | loak whieh covered her solled. | gaudy frock—the disfiguring powder | and paint on her girlish face | | What would Lilian Fane think of [her? What would Lilian Fane think of-his wife? In imagination he could see the disdain on her fnoe— the wondering scorn and pity in her beautiful eyes. His soul writhed in| |a torment of shame | | For the past week he had Ween mad. He told himself that he had| |been no more responsible for his! actions than any other man who temporarily lores his reason and con. | trol. Was It to be marked up againat | |him forever? Would he never be able to shake off the fetters he had bound about his own wrists? “Till death us do part.” The solemn words flashed suddenly j thru his mind; in imagination he was back again in the little dark church | with the stuffy old verger beside him —Rosalie’s shaking hand in his. He! [could see again the rose-window| j above the altar, the white lilies in| the vases; hear the monotonous, | slow voice of the parson. He had bound himself with fetters | | which only death could sever. He| | might hide his secret from the world | jand old Vergerson, but It would be jthere all the same. He might re pudiate this girl he had marriad, but | she would be his wife none the leas: | Lilian Fane was as far beyond his! | he himself who had bullt this second | and impassable barrier between | them Someone tapped softly on the door, Biunt entered; he looked at his young | master with concern you, Mr. Rorle, seeing as you said you was leaving us tomorrow, Me, Rorie?” Roderick thrust the certifiente back into his pocket. He wiped his | |for wondering even Rorie turned + pected good fortune }on bim with suppressed fury: hate the damned stuff.” Tut he drank half a tumbler of neat whisky. It seemed to steady his nerves: the fever of unrest qui eted; he found himself making plans almost calmly—artanging what he | should say to Rosalie when they met. Of course now there was no need to keep to thelr first arrangement, and steal out to her in the gray dawn He mut see her before then; that very night—see her, and tell her that everything was altered—differ ent: that they would not be sailing on the morrow; that he was.no long: er a poor man; that—ob! the thou-! sand and one things which seemed impossible of explanation as the moments passe. He wondered helplessty how she| uld take it; if she would cery—if would make a if she more w whe scene | would insist on being acknowledged / ag his wife-—if she would refuse to |help him keep thelr foolish marriage | a secret rie knew a man in London—a! man with a prospective title and an income of fouffigures—who in his reckless youth had married the girl| who sold him his cigarets, She had} been pretty—nothing more. And the man with the prospective title had tired of her; but she had not tired of the prospective title, and altogether she had made things un comfortably hot for him. | Rorie wondered if Rosalie was that | sort, and was ashamed of himself as he did so Her wistful, pretty eyes came back | to his memory again, and the quiet intensity of her voice ax she sald | “If ever [ thought you were sorry or ashamed of me I— myself.” | Young Briton felt mick; there had} been such sincerity in her voict— such determination in her small face. | And already he was ashamed of her—ashamed of the mad impulse that had driven him to marry her— | the selfish impulse: for it had been | loneliness and disappointment, and, the dread of the future, that had —I would kill | reach as if she were dead, and it was driven him to secure to himself one | straight man; but the awful cholce, friend while he still had the chance. If only he had waited a day—an hour! He set his teeth Well, it had got to be faced. He must either go to Fergerson and tell him the truth, and of his own ac “fe there anything I can do for| cord shut the gates of prosperity and | drove the little car again along the the happiness of luxury, or buy off | the girl A man does not know his own| strength-—or weakness—until sudden | and ewift temptation swoops down| | his OR OTHER ~ AND HIS FRIENDS | EVERE TT TRUE WHITE STUFF BE- TWEEN @QIcKS? BY CONDO GES, SVERETT, LOOK AT THS-FUNNY LITTCO CHIN WaT GUY OVGR THERE ! CF MY WAY ANO Give Me A CH4Ance to ses Him!) 472 ARD-HADE (Chapter 3) “Well!” cried David, “we never heard that one before, did we, — mid Peery, “but I don't see how the baby could be the moon and be living down on the | earth.” “ant the “that is the rest of the story. “When Tapalt reached her own land she was #o excited that she handed her baby to a blind woman, and she and Yeslamish began to break into pieces the flat cakes of deer meat and give them to the people. “They broke and they broke and they broke the cakes and these also were magic cakes for there was a great plenty for everybody, tho there had been only three tiny cakes to begin with, “And while they were all eat ing, Skully, a monster, changed himself into a strange woman, slipped thru the crowd and stole the baby Ard-Hade away from the blind woman and fled with bim to an unknown land, “Then, Instead of Joy, there was Indian answered, upon him, By nature Roderick Briton was & so unexpectedly thrust upon him, swept him off his feet and distorted vision, If he had had time to think—-but this he would not allow himself It was nearly 9 o'clock when he Alperton road He knew that by the time he} ole & great mourning and a searching for the lost baby, but he couldn't be found. “So they summoned all the best prophets and the guessers and told them to tell, if they could, in what direction the baby had gone. “Now Bow-Kllsh, the bumble bee, was the best guesser, and Mat his back wriggling his toes, first one way he finally lying on and and sald: “It ts that way they have taken the child. Get your boards and make a gr®at noise of beat- ing.’ “So an the people made a great noise of wailing and of beating upon boards and Sky-ky, the blue jny, grandfather of the boy, was decided upon as the bravest and swiftest to follow after the mon- ster and the baby. “After many dangers and hard. ships, Sky-ky reached the place about which Bow-Klish had spoken. But there he found a new and greater danger.” (To Be Continued then another, Rehahes leaving the tent in her old drab cloak and the huge flapping goloshes, opening in the great canvas theatre. She saw him instantly, and stood still, with an Indrawn breath and a sudden roseflush in her face. But she spoke no word till they were beyond the crowd gathered about the tent—till they were in the Then she clasped both reached the circus Rosalie would be at the end of her turn, Ho judged rightly. She was just wae TTA ER CPL her hands around his arm, and laid her cheek to his aleeve. (Continued Tomorrow) EDEN .]| Phitip Ames home when he crossed the mendow to the| shadows outside the ring of yellow) WHAT You “THINK OF IT = Ou- HOLO HOW WouLD You LIKE TO SEE Your: BEST Gi “THIS FOR 45. WHY ‘To TH’ BRICKS BUT vod TOGETHER, Practice UP ON “THE FINE POINTS OF “TACKLING © Peat Wome’ cHese LEADER I) JUMPING + WHEN A WOMAN TELLS (Copyright, 1921, By RUTH AGNES ABELING by Seattle Star.) IRL IN 52? Look! tr DOESNT THEM TOGETHER = “No—I'm going—I've got to go— and won't you go with me? There's no use trying to ide It—you know —you know how it's been between }us—and that I've been fond—I've Ke HAPTER XXXIX—PHILIP AMES REFUSES TO TALK cared for him?" “I've never felt just as I do this morning-—Miss Sorensen," Lila was; sipping her coffee, “and there are some things which I tnink should be jdone—some changes. “I wonder if you—" she was hes |tating where heretofore she would jhave given an order. “Would you—" she started again, N Philip for me—please—anf® tell | jhimy to come—that I want to see him?’ When I called Philip Ames* I was told that he was not in “But he must be there—there tsan't anywhere else he could be at this | tir Lila said nervously. lease tell them to have him call me.” “I wish I could get out of the party—but_ {t's too late to reeall any jinvitations’* She was thmking aloud en to me, uu must for. give me if I seem to be not myself | today—I'm not." | The next 30 minutes we spent talk ling of the party. | “Won't you try to get Philtp again } |.—1 know that girl must have forgot |ten to tell him?” Lia finally broke j out, I called, but was told again that Mr. Ames was not there. “Call his home,” said Mrs. Ames at length, “I must talk to him—and {have him here.” The well-modulated contralto |which answered my ring at the startied me. 1) | wondered that its magnetism hadn't | kept Philip Ames to his own hearth stone, | 1 was told by that voice, which said it belonged to Mrs, Ames, that |Mr. Ames was not at home, but ‘could be reached at his office, for |she had talked to him just a second before, Lila's nervousness increased. “Call his office again,” she com. | manded T had just given the number of his | office when Mrs, Ames asked for the | teleghone herself, “He must be there—you'll have to let me talk to him!’ I heard her |say to the girl, “Tell him it is Mrs. Lila Ames and that it ts important,” |xhe went on | “But I must talk to him,” | sisted. The next minute she turned from the telephone with a half hysterical | ery | “She said he didn’t want to talk! to mef’ she half sobbed. “Do you! think he could have meant it? Do you—oh—" Tila was erying, nervou “I'm going down ther office she per. she was |the little che drying her eyes. The words came in fierce, jerky sentence. “I'l go down and see—see if he really doesn't want to talk-to me! (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1921, by N. E. A)~ eight seed potatos, an From She was tearing off the dressing | ignglishman grew 594 pounds of po- — |gown and pulling on some tailored clothes over the sheerest, of French | undergarments. “Don't you think it would be bet- ~ | tatoos in one year, Full course dinner, T5c, at Boldt's. Served 5 to 8 p, m.—Advertisement, Ci! ADV orTUses OF erie. wan LOPPY LOBSTER “Yes,” said one of them, opening his shell The oysters were most respectful to the Twins when they noticed their shining badges, for they recognized the badges as the same kind that Cap'n Pennywinkle wore. And every: one in the sea, from the walrus to rystone clams, was pe spectful to the fairyman policeman, “Yes,” said one of them, opening his shell wide and looking as polite as tho he were being served upon a fine china plate with shaved tee and lemon, "Yes, Loppy Lobster lives just beyond that big gray rock in the sea- weed grove. But he's away a lot of the time.” “Oh, well,” answered Nick, “we'll ring his bell and find out anyway. Cap'n Pennywinkle wants him, He's been fighting.” “He usually is,” answered the oys- ter. “And now if you'll please ex- cuse me, I'll shut my door and take a nap.” The Twins said, “Certainly,” and in a moment the oyster was closed as tight as the candy store on Sun- day. No one answered when Nick press sed the button at Loppy Lobster’s front door, “Oh,” said Nancy impatiently. “You'd think his mother would he here, or somebody, I hate empty houses.” Then suddenly she caught | Nick's sleeve. “Look, Nick, some- |body is at home and he's peeping!’ | Nick looked where Nancy was {pointing and out of a side doorway |be saw two poppy eyes looking bow ly at them—eyes that stared stead- ily without so much as a blink. “It Loppy himself" whispered Nick, “Look at his Lig green claws ae his fan-shaped tail and his feelers! What will he say when he knows that Cap'n Pennywinkle has sent us for him?" “1 don’t know,” answered Nancy, eyeing Loppy’s sharp claws uneasily, “but don’t let us go too close.” (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1921, by Seatule Star